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straightlightyagami · 2 years ago

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uhh poasting first chapter of the death note fic here I guess? (next chapter)

I have never written fanfiction before, but I wrote this by popular demand (aka 2 mutuals). I have basically not written any fiction in years, and I’ve never shared any of my fiction writing. Most of my writing experience is mathematical proofs, tumblr posts, and academic essays. I have no idea what I am doing, especially in terms of writing style. kind of scared of poasting it. Please be niceys but also I am open to feedback.

This fic is basically just "Light is a leftist au." It will obviously contain political content. it's a "modern au" (as in, set in the 2020s) for technology reasons. Also somewhat ooc but on purpose (Light is a bit more… compassionate and social justice-oriented. But he is still his murder-y self). Light is trans bc trans rights and wrongs and it makes sense for some things but I'm not sure how major it will be in the story (lmk if you have a preference for how you want it to be treated). If I continue this, I am planning to focus more on all of the murder and politics and such, there will most likely be no ships or romantic content. I have a rough idea of where I want it to go, but please share any ideas you have, or what sort of stuff you'd be interested to see, etc.

Light Yagami was more than just what one would call a straight-A student. A better description would perhaps be a precocious child, a genius, a prodigy, any number of synonyms. He had been told as much ever since he could remember, reinforcing what he had always known to be true, that him being different from others was simply a matter of superiority. Any way he was different, then, must have been simply confirmation of the fact.

Bored out of his mind in classes he could have aced five years earlier, most of the contents of which he could recite if shaken awake at three in the morning, he often found his gaze drifting outside, to the world beyond the windows. Days blending together, seasons drifting by before his eyes, flowers blooming and wilting, a backdrop to his internal monologue. And so, on that afternoon in late November, an afternoon that could have been any other, Light tuned out the droning of the teacher and the gossiping of his classmates and absently surveyed the school courtyard, thinking about everything and also nothing in particular. Everything in the world was so wrong. There was nothing he could do about it. He was getting hungry. Class would be over in five minutes.

There was nothing to look at in the courtyard, really. All of the students were in class and it was deserted, save for the occasional bird perched on a bush. It was in this atmosphere of almost painful mundanity that a strange view caught his sight, of some kind of object falling through the boundary of the golden sunlight above and the shadow of the building and landing in the grass. Squinting, he saw it was a book. Could someone have dropped it from a window? But there was no way for it to have followed that trajectory then… Perhaps it fell from an airplane?

***

The school day was over, and he turned to head home when he noticed the book lying in the grass like a black shadow. He felt a strange relief at the fact that nobody had taken it, and headed to pick it up.

“Death Note? The human whose name is written in this note shall die…”

Like one of those chain letters that claim to foretell your death. A stupid prank, that’s all it was. Too stupid for a smart boy like him. But a free notebook is a free notebook. Besides the ominous instructions, all the pages were blank. Surely its owner saw no value in it if they threw it out. What harm could it do to take it, if no one would reclaim it anyway? He tucked it into his bag.

After saying goodbye to a few classmates, he walked unhurriedly from his school to the train station, watching cars pass below the overpass and shielding his eyes from the sunshine of late autumn, the kind that shines bright but does not warm much. He entertained himself by thinking, if such a book really was real and he could kill anyone with it, what would he do? Most people would probably judge him for even thinking about it, but they didn’t need to know. A thought experiment never hurt anyone.

Everything he had been thinking for years, how the greed of those in power leads to the deaths of thousands of innocents. War, poverty, violent crime… These problems could be eradicated if he could strike fear into the hearts of the right people. A power like that could even be used to influence government policy, to create a more just society. Perhaps the people would even take it as a signal that a higher power wants them to free themselves of their capitalist overlords, maybe then people would be brave enough to resist injustice of their own accord. It was a nice vision, but not a realistic one. There was no way to fix the world so easily.

Sighing, he opened the door of his house, greeted his mother, and grabbed a bag of potato chips before ascending the stairs to his room. He set his school bag on the floor beside his desk and stood by the window as he ate his chips. Then he sat at his desk and took the mystery notebook out, rereading the instructions once again. A name and face and the victim is dead? Clearly, it was a fake and he was the idiot to get duped into picking it up. He lay down on his bed to rest for a bit before going to evening prep classes.

But… What if it was real? A curious person by nature, Light knew he would not be able to stop thinking about it until he tested it and confirmed it could not kill anyone. It could not possibly work, so it would not hurt to try.

Feeling he had lost to whoever the prankster was, he sat down at his desk again and took out a pen. The main criteria for whoever he tested it on were that it was someone deserving of death, in case it actually worked, and that he would be able to find out right away if it worked. He turned on the news and saw that there was a live broadcast from an active hostage situation where a man who was a known criminal was holding some kids at gunpoint in a school. This was the perfect test subject. If the notebook worked, he would save eight people (of course, the suspect could have been identified incorrectly, but it was out of his control to do better than that). If it didn’t… Well, that was the expected outcome. Kurou Otoharada, read the name next to the picture of the suspect on the screen. He wrote it down, visualizing the man’s face. Then, he sat back and waited.

Forty seconds passed. Nothing happened. The notebook’s power was not real, and his boredom and dissatisfaction with the state of the world were leading him to indulge in some messed-up prank. He berated himself for allowing himself to develop such a propensity for magical thinking.

But as he stood to turn off the television and get ready to go to class, something appeared to happen on screen. The hostages were coming out. The newscaster was reporting that the criminal had collapsed dead.

He killed a person. He saved eight. It must have been a coincidence. He would have to test it again, just to be sure. With a specified cause of death this time.

***

It worked! There was certainly no doubt now. The probability that this man had been hit by a truck, as he had specified in the Death Note, by sheer coincidence was near zero. Again, he felt a strange relief. So he hadn’t made a mockery of his own intelligence by trying it (there was no harm in trying). But he was now a murderer. He leaned against the wall and threw up.

The full gravity of what he had done only hit him then. He had not killed out of malice, but that changed nothing. Intention did not matter.

The reflections of the city in the rain mixed into his tears until all he could see was shining light. Somehow, he found his way back home. He took a minute to compose himself, then entered, gave his practice test scores into his mother’s outstretched hands, and calmly excused himself, saying he was tired and wanted to sleep early.

***

He wrapped the blankets around himself and burrowed his face into the pillow to stifle his sobs. There was no doubt in his mind that what he had done was right. No doubt that continuing to do it would be the only right thing to do. Could he do it? It would be impossible to kill and remain the same. Doing the right thing would mean sacrificing parts of himself.

On the other hand, what was the other option? Doing anything else would be turning his back on pain and suffering that he was fully capable of preventing. He would be complicit in the evils he did not prevent because of his own selfish motives. Besides, who knew where the notebook came from? For all he knew, it could belong to some otherworldly creature that would appear at any moment and kill him for using a power that did not belong to him. He could not afford to waste time moping around.

#death note #orygynall poast #long post #first chapter is not very different from canon yet

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convenientalias · 2 years ago

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OT3 Thoughts

I really like OT3s and poly ships in general but after reading a fair number of OT3 fics as well as some poly original fiction (reverse harem, in particular), I've come to realize I can be kind of picky about them actually.

For me in, in the ideal OT3, the three sides of the triangle should be different from each other. There are a lot of popular OT3s that are basically three friends or three coworkers, and this doesn't tend to work well for me bc I want a variety of dynamics.

For example, Hwi/Seon-ho/Bang-won works well for me bc the three sides are very different. Hwi/Seon-ho is a ship of friends become enemies who are kind of soulmates and can't escape each other's orbit. Hwi/Bang-won is a ship of tenuous fealty with people who like each other but can't entirely trust each other. Seon-ho/Bang-won is a ship of two people with a lot of animosity who are actually very similar. None of these pairs interact in a very similar manner--even when Seon-ho and Hwi have issues, they don't act the same way as when Seon-ho argues with Bang-won, and similarly when Hwi breaks his ties with Bang-won at last, he doesn't act towards him the way he acts towards Seon-ho.

On the other hand, one of my few NOT3s is MCS/Nihuang/Jingyan and I think what it boils down to is that MCS/Nihuang and MCS/Jingyan feel too similar to me. Jingyan has a larger role in the story, yes, and MCS's relationship with him is tied up in knots of fealty and political intrigue, but still you can essentially boil down both relationships to "Nihuang/Jingyan has never gotten over Lin Shu's death, which essentially changed their life, and now in the present meets MCS and becomes attached to him. MCS, who still cares deeply about both of them, lies to them about his identity and eventually gets found out, but their relationship is still complicated bc MCS is but also is not Lin Shu. Also he's still lying about his terminal illness." Of course Nihuang finds out much earlier and has a simpler relationship with him than Jingyan, but bare bones, it's still largely the same. And even Nihuang and Jingyan's dynamic still has the basic structure of "two childhood friends who have been mostly separated due to the Chiyan case come together in the present as changed people." All these relationships are very interesting to me individually but when you put them together, I immediately become bored. I am incapable of caring about such similar relationships at the same time.

This is one reason reverse harem often doesn't work so well for me, or even mfm original romances. It's not bc I don't like V shaped relationships or one person getting together with a bunch of other ppl. (Sometimes I actually think that's better than forcing everyone in the relationship to be equally in love when it feels counterintuitive.) It's more bc often, the relationships will be too similar for me to get into. For example, I've seen a lot of romance novels that focus on one woman sandwiched between two or more alpha males. This doesn't interest me much bc I don't get much of a sense of differentiation between the relationships. On the other hand, my current favorite reverse harem novel is The Glass Princess by Lidiya Foxglove. In it, a human princess gets together with two dragons (a king and his champion) as well as her own bodyguard. (In the sequels, things get even harem-y-er, but I won't get into that.) The relationships Foxglove writes are all very different. The princess and the king are in an arranged marriage but finding each other very attractive. The princess and the bodyguard have been having a forbidden relationship for some time and are star-crossed lovers. And the king's champion... well, his relationship with the princess is not especially complex, but he has quite an interesting dynamic with the king which is all his own.

I think one of the pros of a poly romance where all the dynamics are different is that it makes it harder for one person in the relationship to be overlooked, which is one easy pitfall for an OT3. I've read a number of fics and books both where the dynamic is basically "the ship I'm interested in + someone else who is kind of around in the background." This isn't something that will turn me off a fic--I think it's pretty common when the dynamic is an established couple + an outsider with a focus on the outsider's relationship with one of the members of the established couple. But it does tend to leave me wanting more.

Anyway those are my poly-shipping thoughts of the night. As a random side note my other favorite OT3 dynamic is "two people who are in love and a third person who's unhealthily obsessed with them." Make of that what you will.

#just some musings #i may change my mind on all of this later #but you know #shipping thoughts

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aprillikesthings · 9 months ago

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OKay gotta distract myself from constantly refreshing my fic and staring at numbers, by continuing my spop rewatch

If you're new here: I'm rewatching all of She-Ra for fic writing purposes, and live-blogging it, with too many screenshots. None of this is spoiler-free. I make a lot of jokes and talk about my life and make references to other shit.

Also, I find Catra's villainy to be kinda hot (okay more than just kinda hot)

s4 ep1 the coronation

"April did you rewatch the Portal scene again"

Yes, because that's where I left it paused, mind your own business

OKAY so I remember this from the first time I watched it, like, four years ago--that of all the emotional stuff this show gets 100% correct, I'm not sure Glimmer's grief over her mother is all that accurately portrayed. She just seems to "get over it" too fast?

By which I mean: yes, it's the focus of this episode, but that's basically it.

When my dad died--and keep in mind I'd been no contact for six months, I'd already done most of my grieving for him!--I was so out of it I couldn't even read anything longer than a few paragraphs for multiple months. All my writing basically screeched to a halt. And Glimmer likes her mom!

BUT tbh I keep remembering someone pointing out that each season covers WAY more time than I originally assumed. Because the first time I watched this I assumed we were like, literally a week or two after the events at the end of s3. It's probably closer to several months. And that makes way more sense.

Also who else is confused as to what "princess" and "queen" even mean in this universe, like there are several princesses who are clearly in charge of their kingdoms? is just when their parents DIE that they become queens? if so wtf is wrong with Frosta's parents "lol you're eight now, time for you to be in charge of literally everything, and you'll never see us again"??

okay but literally did they only ask Mermista to do the flowers as a joke bc I am literally sad for her now :(

There she is!!! 😍

Also I read some (old) commentary from Nate about why her hair is flatter this season and nooooooo

oh hey remember that you tied up Adora

okay do you remember this specific time you tied up Adora lolol

"Don't talk about my ex-girlfriend!!! it's a very sensitive topic *sobs*"

Glimmer's coronation robe is so great. I wonder if, like IRL ones, it's made out some insanely hard-to-get fur and weighs approximately five tons.

The line delivery of "BOW! CALM DOWN!" made me laugh so hard I had to play it for other people and then watch it again.

"Power changes people"

Not everyone is like you!!! >:(

(if anything, responsibility is more likely to change Glimmer)

poor bb

it's Entrapta's little naked mole rat robot!! which is also somehow also a squeaky toy??

Scorpia wants SO BAD to find a way to see Catra as not a terrible person

the robot didn't deserve that

"Don't talk about my ex-girlfriend!!! it's a very sensitive topic *sobs*" (pt 2)

Scorpia is such a cinnamon roll

Adora literally only owns like three outfits. And this is her "nice dress."

Bow's dad's!!

Also this is framed so much like a wedding, even the music is wedding-ish

I'M NOT SAYING A DAMN THING ABOUT THIS

A FRIEND

okay maybe not

I'm sticking with my theory that this is several months after the end of s3 which means she's been like this (unable to teleport) for a while

Yeah, people have discussed this a great deal, re: grief: most people want to talk about the people they've lost, if you give them a safe time/place to do it. You don't have to avoid the subject.

;_;

I once again ask myself: where were you keeping the sword this whole time lolol

NICE (Glimmer put the fancy lantern into the little niche for it)

Aziraphale? Is that you?

IT'S SO CUTE

I wonder when Angella recorded this

YEAH!

where did you get the new outfit 2. isn't your other arm cold 3. she's fucking purring

She says this the exact same way she says "Hey, Adora" and I went "EUGGGH" out loud

Some people were like, "oh, her redemption arc in s5 was so rushed" and meanwhile I'm like, "I wish they'd made her deranged and mean a little longer, actually. For Reasons."

Anyway I've run out of images unless I reblog the post, SO: she yanks the little crystal thing Entrapta made out of Hordak's suit so he collapses and then taunts him with the knowledge that Horde Prime is not gonna be happy to find out he can't even subdue the Rebellion, basically puts herself in charge, end of episode

WOOOOO

#april rewatches spop #the coronation

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blackberry-gingham · 3 years ago

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Jealousy, Jealousy | Wolverine x Fem!Reader

Chpt 1 | Next...>

Sick of fighting the X-Men's constant battles, our favorite Canuck has decided to go his own way. Back to a life of casual drinking, drifting, and fucking about... Logan finds himself looking for a snag for the night in town. All hope seems lost, until he runs into you, a fresh faced stranger who has yet to learn about him and his bs.

But, when thinks don't turn out the way at all the he expected... He can only assume it means the worst. With a mind made up to investigate your reasons for showing up so suddenly in this nowhere town, it might just lead our small, emotionally constipated friend down a path of self realization he never thought he'd tread....

tag list: @samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @mickeyperkins @the-goon-tm @tolovaj (Wolverine tag list open to additions or reductions, whichever you prefer lol)

tags: slow burn, still on my bullshit with dad bod stuff, except THIS TIME we have a confident big guy, well "big" in as much as wolverine can be described as such, emotional hurt/comfort

---

God, it's good to be free.

To be home.

No more Professor. No more X-men. No more fighting endless, meaningless fights...

But above all, no more fucking "will we, won't we" between him and all the ones who can't make up their minds about him.

A blast of freezing wind catches Logan in the chest. Feels great.

He drags a fallen tree from the edge of the forest all the way back to his little cabin. It's remote and mostly isolated out here. Perfect for a man like him-

A mutant.

Despite all the X-Men have done.. Feels like mutants still have to live on the fringes of society. What a fucking waste of his time it's been.

Besides... Even apart from all that "higher ground" bullshit, he was tailing after Jean for so damn long... He can't even remember why he put up with it all.

It was damn near time he stopped.

What business did he need with the X-Men as a whole anyway? So he can fight their wars for them? So they can throw him at Sabretooth, forget about it, and breath a sigh of relief?

Fuck that.

He's fought plenty of wars in his long, long life. No more.

He makes his money here and there. Odd jobs. Working lumber. Fighting in the bar rings. And why the hell not? He can't lose. Of course, that doesn't mean he doesn't pull punches and take a planned loss now and then...

Can't and won't are two very different words, after all.

Enough wins to earn what he needs... Enough losses to keep from arousing suspicion. He's been on the run all his life. Here, there, all around the fucking world. He doesn't even know that he can die, certainly won't be anytime soon either, but... Damn, is he ready to retire from all that hero shit.

He drops the trunk of the tree with a grunt. Long walk. Don't mean he minds though.

It'll be fine here for the night, but right now he really needs some timber. A few slashes of his claws does the trick. Just a couple logs, but it's enough to suit his needs for the evening.

Toss 'em in the hearth. Slash one set of claws against the others. A couple tries, and the sparks catch. Slowly but surely the fire starts to eat at the wood. Good enough for him.

Logan peels of his soaked flannel shirt. It's been snowing all fucking day... Maybe he'll swallow his pride and bring a coat sometime, but to be honest the cold don't bother him that bad. Besides, why hide the good shit?

He's not a man for mirrors and vanity, but one of the few original furniture pieces he found in this place includes a solid, log framed standing mirror. He keeps it against the wall, right where he found it in the living room.

Logan stops to admire himself a moment. God only knows his body's been through hell and back over the decades... He's been sickly thin, shredded with lean muscle, injected with metal- He looks at himself now, and he feels just the same about himself as he always does.

Softer now, sure, but- He gives a cocky flex or two, just enough to stroke his ego. Subtle little shadows and indents lace his arms even still.

Firm.

Strong.

Yeah... He's still got it.

Logan grins with charm and runs his fingers through his tussled mane. She missed out.

He shakes the remaining snowflakes out of his hair, and walks off to grab some dinner for the night. The stove works fine, but there's something about cooking over the fireplace that just feels... right. By the time he returns there's a nice, roaring flame going.

Turn the game on in the background. Warm up by the flames as he does his cooking. Sip a little whiskey as he works. No cigar though. He's been tying to cut back on the smoking.

Being short ain't all bad you know. For example, makes this hearth fire feel like a real campfire. Warms his bones even right down through the fucking metal. Logan sighs. Sips some tea. Takes a bite of his meal.

The Flames are winning too. At this rate, maybe he'll get to collect some bets next time he's in town.

Logan lays on his back in front of the crackling fire. Feels good on his skin. Hot, but not uncomfortable. Damn near pleasant.

Tomorrow he'll chop up the rest of the tree and sell it to the yard.

Been a while since he's been in town honestly. That's as he likes it, but... Gotta admit, it's nice to talk to someone other then the TV once in a while. He rolls over to warm his chest a bit more as the flames start to die down. With a tired reach, he clicks off the TV and stretches before curling up again.

It's a good life up here.

Maybe he'll take someone home tomorrow too. Make his week just a little bit better... Gettin harder to find chicks that aren't wise to his MO lately, but hey. There's always at least one taker.

Until... There isn't, it would seem.

Damn. Looks like his usuals are nowhere to be found.

Logan climbs up onto a barstool and orders something for himself. Glass of scotch and some poutine. Can't beat the best, after all. It's been a long day of work... He's not to keen on going home and staying unsatisfied.

He can wait around for a little while yet. Why not?

Shit. He's on his fourth glass already. It's been just a couple hours, and any chance he's taken has been shot down. And that's only if one's even shown itself. He knows all these girls. Even worse, they all know him.

Logan shoots back his drink and slams the glass down. God, he wishes he could get drunk.

He takes one more look around... Same old faces. With a frustrated sigh he digs around in his pocket to pay. Guess it's not happening tonight, huh.

A couple minutes more are wasted. He pays, but he winds up getting caught in a conversation with the bartender on the way out. Nice enough guy. Easy to talk to, even for a man of few words like himself. Makes him better at selling drinks too, he laughs.

Before it gets much later, he goes to take his leave.

Nothing sadder then a handsome fella like himself walking out of a place like this alone, but what can you do? He sighs, tired and caught up making plans for tomorrow.

Suddenly, a sharp bump yanks him back to reality.

Not a thing, but a person. He whips around to defend his pride, "Hey! Watch where you're wal-"

You look back and give him a disgruntled glare and nothing more. Don't even stop.

Logan unclenches his fists...

Now there's a pretty face, eh?

Maybe he doesn't have to leave alone after all. He straightens up. Rolls his shoulders. Once you're all settled in... Yeah. He can turn this around in his favor.

He catches up to you at the bar, licks his thumb and smooths out his eyebrows. Full of charm, he clears his throat harshly to get your attention as he leans against the bar top, "Sorry about that, didn't see ya, heh"

You hardly even spare him a glance, "Mhm"

Hm, not a great start. Not to worry though, he's got lots of cards to play, "Name's Logan..."

You continue to stay silent.

"And you are....?", he prompts, just barely starting to lose patience.

This time you turn to look at him. You glance the short distance it takes to look him up and down and then, "Not interested"

He'll let that one go. The height thing is hard for most women at first, but... They always come around, "Hell of a name", he jokes, "That what your friends call you, or-"

He cuts himself off. Judging by your face, clearly this approach is going nowhere. He stops, and decides to give it one last try... "Can I... Buy you a drink at least?"

"Why don't you go buy yourself some mints, and fuck off"

Welp, so much for his patience. He grumbles, doing his best to hold it all back. "Bitch", he spits, and walks off to the other end of the bar. Maybe he'll take one more drink before he leaves...

"Back so soon?", that bartender laughs.

"The usual", Logan grunts, "one more"

As a show of good faith, he slaps down the money in preparation to just pay and leave. He's got his drink soon enough and takes a swig. He growls, "Who's that anyway..."

"Dunno, blew into town a few days ago. Think she's here to stay. Or so I've heard"

"Hmpf, great..."

"Ah, leave her be, eh Logan? Can't have em all", the bartender takes the money and walks off to take care of other guests.

Logan looks at you with a long, sideways glance. He's been rejected plenty of times before, but... Almost never by someone he's just met. Most find him attractive he thinks... Some see him as an amusing curiosity, at the very least. A pity fuck, probably.

He doesn't give a shit about any of that though, to be honest. A lay's, a lay in his book. So what's the matter? He's not good enough for you?

That, and... Ever since his X-men days.... Well-

He's a little paranoid about strangers in his town. Especially ones as guarded as you're acting. What if somethings up? Could be worth sniffing around.

Besides, he doesn't mind hanging around a pretty face.

He goes off home alone that night. A few thoughts linger about the rest of the day, but most of them revolve around that catastrophe at the bar. Rejection hurts sure, but that was straight embarrassing.

As per his usual routine, he peels off his clothes and swaps his jeans for something more comfortable. For his torso... Maybe an undershirt, since it's particularly cold.

Logan slips the fabric over his body and stretches. Sleeping on the floor was fine, but he does so enjoy his bed too. When he lowers his arms again... He can't help but wiggle around to get some room in the thin, ribbed tank.

You know, thank God for being short, really. Means he didn't have to buy any new clothes, even after... Well. You know. He looks down briefly at where his abs use to be and his new belly protrudes. Just means his shirts aren't long as shit on him anymore.

With a little leap, he jumps into bed and gets situated. The gut don't bother him... Doesn't seem to bother the ladies, neither... Unfortunately, adding width isn't a replacement for lack of height. Even that don't bother him.

Sure as hell tends to be a deal breaker for most women though, much to his dismay.

Part of the reason why he's a one night stand type of guy, anyway.

Hell, he's tried being a one woman man before... Look where that's gotten him. Heartbreak, every time. He sighs and rolls over.

He's trying not to think of Jean. Or Silverfox. Or any of the others...

Never seems to work out... Although, even if it ever did, he's quite sure he'd just wind up being reminded all to harshly that being nigh immortal is a fucking curse when everyone else lives and dies a normal life. He makes a little whine, daring to feel just a lit-

He shakes out his head.

Fuck.

He's thinking about this too damn hard....

Logan rolls over with a growl. Fuck you, and fuck whatever the reason is you turned him down so damn hard. He just needs to find out if you're with Striker, or the fucking X-Men, and after that... He doesn't give a rats ass.

Angrily, he grabs the empty pillow beside him and clutches it to his chest. Just a little something to sleep against, he tells himself. Not the best replacement in the world, but... It's nice enough for when he's unwillingly made to spend the night alone.

Now, he's just gotta figure out how he's going to find out what he needs from you...

Well, good place to start is back at the bar, he guesses. That'll work out nicely... He's got a tournament participation planned in a few days anyway. Should be enough time for you both to cool off...

And if you're there, well... Maybe he can impress you enough to get you to talk to him. If not.... No big deal.

Besides, maybe someone else will go home with him instead.

#ooooo boy here we go #fic number three bc I have no sense of focus #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader

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golden-barnes · 4 years ago

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Audacity

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Bucky has a long list of reasons to hate John Walker. But the fake Captain America deciding to flirt with you, definitely takes the cake.

Category: Smut 18+

Warning: Jealous Bucky is just soft dom! Bucky, dirty talk, penetrative sex, slight chocking, closet sex, and just John Walker being annoying

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: trying out this new format bc I liked the way it look when I did the Spencer Reid fic. A small spoiler warning for the newest FATWS episode but other than that it’s like an AU bc this really has nothing to do with yesterdays’ episode. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

There’s a lot to hate about John Walker. The fact that he is trying to replace Steve as a cheap version of Captain America. His stupid face and the way he handles the shield. Even the way he speaks comes off as pretentious and arrogant.

But what really made Bucky seethe with anger is the fact that his little beady eyes would not stop looking at you. Undressing you with his eyes. Taking in every move and gesture you made. It made Bucky’s blood boil. He kept clenching and unclenching his fist. How haven’t you noticed his insisting fucking starring?

“Can you chip your teeth? Because I’m pretty sure you might by how clenched your jaw” Sam said, patting Bucky on the back. He just rolled his eyes but decided not to say anything.

There was nothing that can be done. They made a silent pack not to anger the imposter. The government had asked Sam, Bucky and you to help out with a smuggling ring that they have discovered and low and behold, their little Captain America got his ass handed to him. They basically begged them to help. Bucky almost screamed a Fuck no into their faces but you managed to hold him off from punching the soldier that appeared at your apartment.

You turned around and bent over to pick up something. You were unaware that the fake Captain America licked his crusty lips while looking at you. He kept eying you like a piece of meat. Bucky rolled his eyes again and turned to Sam who was quietly reading the reports.

“Can I punch him?” Bucky whispered to Sam.

“Do you want your pardon to be revoked?” Sam said to him, not even looking up from the reports.

“There’s nobody here. Y/N won’t say anything. You definitely won’t mind.” Bucky whispered, glaring at the blond man that kept staring at you. You clearly didn’t give a shit about him. Therefore, why was he still looking at you?

Sam rolled his eyes at his ex-assassin friend. “Yeah, and later we can steal the shield.” Sam looked up from the reports and pushed them to the side.

“Exactly! Yeah, now that’s a plan.” Bucky said excitedly, standing up from his chair trying to make his way to John before being stopped by Sam, who grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him back into his chair. Before Bucky could protest, he heard you whistle at them.

“Hey, guys! I think I have something.” You said. The three men surrounded you, while you were explaining how you found out the new base location for the smuggling ring.

Bucky tried his best to focus on what you were saying and your explanation, but he couldn’t help but notice that the Kmart version of Captain America was inching closer and closer to you. Didn’t this man have a wife? Bucky swore he read that somewhere. Why does he keep staring and getting closer to you?

“Oh! Sorry, ma’am.” The jackass said, when he “accidentally” bumped into you, he grabbed your waist and forearm to stabilize you.

“It’s okay.“ You told him, and let out a soft chuckle. Bucky felt his pen explode in his hand. The three of you turned to the pouty super soldier who just rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the schematics.

You knew something was up with Bucky. He didn’t say anything. Not after the pen exploding incident. Not even when you were joking around with Sam. He loved making witty comebacks to your jokes. It was your thing.

But maybe it was John Walker’s presence that made it uncomfortable for him. You knew Bucky hated the guy, mostly cause he took Steve’s spot without earning it. But there was something more to this. Bucky has always had a staring problem, but the number of sharp glares he has been sending to Walker has been enough to alert anyone. You couldn’t comfort him, not without making it super apparent that you are dating. And Bucky had already expressed that he doesn’t want to publicize it unless it’s only Sam that’s around.

“Agent Y/L/N, I think I found something,” Torres said, signaling to you to go follow him upstairs. You took one last look at Bucky, who was still glaring at the oblivious John Walker.

“Damn, I don’t know how you guys get any work done with that around you all the time,” John said, staring at you walking up the stairs. More specifically, staring at your ass.

Bucky looked at Sam, almost begging him to let him punch the douchebag that is this man. But Sam gripped his forearm. Bucky will not lose his pardon like this.

“How about we focus on the damn mission?” Bucky almost growled. John Walker put his hands up.

“I’m sorry man. It’s just- look at her.” John sat back and leaned into his chair. From the distance, he could see you talking to Torres.

“C’mon man. You asked us for our help but we aren’t here to do all the work.” Sam said trying to be the peacemaker between the super-soldier with a murderous gaze and the soldier with the wondering eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah sorry.” John said trying to go back to the records. You were descending from the stairs and walking over to them. John brought his attention back to you. The way your hips would sway when you walked. The confidence in every step. Everything Bucky loved, and apparently fucking John did too.

“Guys, I think we need to rest for today. I am a little bit burned out. I think we all are.” You said, with your hands on your hips. Bucky felt his heart clench, you did look tired. Especially because you were almost doing all the work and piecing all of the clues.

“That’s an incredible idea.” Sam said stretching in his chair. He also looked tired. It made Bucky feel bad that he has been focusing all his energy on glaring and not helping out. He almost felt guilty.

Almost because a surge of rage flows through him again. John “Can’t take a hint” Walker smirked at you while you were grabbing the files that were on the table.

Bucky didn’t even give you a chance to say goodbye. To Sam or the annoying motherfucker that made Bucky want to break rule number 2.

“Woah, Buck. what are you doing?” You said while the brunet dragged you around the base. His grip on your forearm was hard but not enough for it to hurt. Bucky wouldn’t hurt you, not in any way you wouldn’t like it.

There was something about how Bucky was walking, the silence, the way he was searching for something but never letting go of you.

Bucky opened up a closet door.

“Get in, doll.” He whispered in your ear, in a low deep voice. You let out a gasp, feeling goosebumps all over your body. You looked at Bucky in the eyes, and you knew he wasn’t in the mood for a fight. You entered the closet space without protesting.

It was a small storage closet. It barely had anything in it so you felt cramped. You turned to Bucky, while he closed the door. The man stalked towards you and you walked backward till your back hit the wall. Bucky had you cornered, and you didn’t mind it.

“Did you have fun, doll?” Bucky said, getting close to your face. His hands went to your hips, pulling you towards him.

“Buck, what are you talking about?” You whispered to him. Bucky rolled his eyes and took one of his hands off your hips. Placing it on your neck, lightly applying some pressure to it. You gasped at his touch, he chuckled a bit at your reaction.

“C’mon darling. Did you have fun playing around with the imposter Captain America? I mean he had fun looking at you. So I’m assuming that you had fun being looked at.” He said, with his hand still on your neck and his face inches away from your face. You looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Oh, you didn’t notice that. Well, I did. Maybe I should teach you who do you belong to. Would you like that sweetheart?” He said, his breath tickling your lip. You nodded, breathless. Bucky smiled at you.

The hand that was around your neck, went to your chin. Grabbing it and pulling you closer so that your lips would meet. His hands started to wander across your body, while yours looped around his neck.

Your kisses started to grow hungrier, more desperate. As if Bucky spotted kissing you, you would fade away. His hands reached the zipper of your pants and pulled it down. Not even breaking from your kiss, Bucky managed to push your pants down. You break from your kiss to get out of them, while Bucky took off his pants and underwear.

He didn’t wait. He pushed you softly back on the wall and started to leave kisses and soft bites all over your neck.

“Jump, baby girl,” He said softly against your skin, patting your butt.

And you did just so. Wrapping your legs around his waist, with one of his hands on your ass and another moving your panties to the side.

“Hold that there, baby. Let me make you feel so good.” Holding his neck with one hand, you moved another hand to hold your panties to the side, to make it easy for him.

“Good girl.”And with one thrust, he was inside you, hitting all the spot. You moaned and gripped the back of his neck tightly.

“Like that doll? Can anyone else do this to you uhn? C’mon doll give me everything you got.” With every word that came out of his mouth, he would thrust hard and deep into you. You felt lightheaded. Your legs tightening around his waist but his thrust wouldn’t stop.

“Fuck, Buck. Don’t stop.” You gasped. Bucky kept kissing your neck. Overloading your senses. You were close, you knew it. Bucky knew it. You could feel him grin against your skin.

“Who makes you feel this good, doll?” He asked. You gasped at his sudden change in pace. He started to thrust more desperately, less controlled. He was close too.

“You. Fuck, only you.Shit, Bucky. I’m going to cum.” Bucky smirked at you.

“Then cum, doll.” Bucky silenced your cries with his lips. Still thrusting into you, letting you ride your high and getting to his. And that wouldn’t be long.

With one final thrust, Bucky came. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and let you down.

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.” You said, putting on your pants.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He smiled at you. You slapped his chest lightly, which made him laugh.

“I hope you realize that I would never go with discount Captain America over there.” You joked which made Bucky laugh even harder. You both were dressed and tried to look as decent as you could to leave the closet and the base.

“Let’s hope that fucking in an army base won’t be the reason you lose your pardon.” You said, grabbing Bucky’s hand, to give him reassurance. He gave you a smirk.

“Maybe if we let them watch, they won’t take it away,” Bucky replied to you, giving you a wink.

“Yeah and get John Walker to join would also help your case.” Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked at you.

“Oh, you are gonna get it when we get home.” Now it was your turn to wink at your boyfriend.

“I’m hoping I do.” Bucky shook his head but pulled you closer to him. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, walking towards the exit of the base. Confident that John Walker couldn’t take you away from him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader smut #winter soldier x reader

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missgeniality · 4 years ago

Text

A Work Of Art (m)

“In our life there is a single color, as on an artist’s palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.” - Marc Chagall

➺ Banner: The lovely @dee-ehn 💕

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Genre: PWP, Smut, Slightest Angst

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 7.3k

➺ Summary: You surprise Jimin with his Filter outfit; and then some.

➺ Warnings: tongues get tired in this fic, dom!jimin, we talk about spit, some biting, jimin loves praise, lingerie n stuff, nipple play, oral sex (m&f receiving), we talk more about spit, some bondage is involved, degrading names, blindfolds, spanking (maybe too much, don’t look @ me), light choking, light face-fucking, cum eating, we talk even more about spit, hickeys galore, some edging?, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids, not even for Jimin)

➺ Author’s Note: (repost bc tags, you know how it is) huge s/o to @ilikemesometaetaes for making time to beta read this monstrosity 💜 thank youuuu! Also thanks to @honeiibeehobi, @kithtaehyung for helping me with the many many details & @ppersonnafor hyping up this idea or else it would have never seen the light of day ;_; lol i will come back to edit this cuz this didnt let me focus on my paper due tonight so if you see a spelling mistake or tense error umm no you didnt 👀

do let me know your thoughts!! the smallest feedback goes a long way! 💛💛

This is the first part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

Y/N: soooooo, I did a thing. JM: is the dishwasher flooding our kitchen again? Y/N: -_- i’ll give you two more guesses. JM: oh no. you picked up a dog from the street again. Y/N: come onn!! JM: y/n, last time you picked one up, HE HAD AN OWNER Y/N: you’re down to your last try, or else i’m taking this off. JM: … JM: so its something you have on? 😏 Y/N: pic_210124.jpg JM: holy shit JM: wait wait fuck JM: keep the door unlocked.

“You like?”

The bob in his Adam’s apple wordlessly conveys the answer you’re looking for.

A crisp, white, button down shirt, tucked into black trousers, topped off with a panama hat that matches your top half is the view Jimin comes home to. Your dress pays homage to Jimin’s Filter outfit - actually, the exact one - the one that showcased his immaculate dance moves, the one that exposes his delicious collarbones, the one that brings the irresistible urge to bite your way up his neck - the one he eventually rids.

If you had to pick a color, he is a flustered orange, bright and blushing, turned on by the indecent implication of your very decent outfit.

You’re on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the swell of your ass. Landing on the pads of your feet, you take a few steps towards the man with the unhinged jaw.

“Babe.” a mellow croak - Jimin can’t get a whole sentence out without saliva pooling and obstructing his speech. “You, in my clothes… fuck.”

Chuckling at his very obvious loss of words, you give him a twirl, allowing him to fully soak in your outfit.

“Was waiting for you.”

Three long strides and you were in his arms, a pair of lips desperate to invade your space and claim you. An Angel on your shoulder tells you to give in; after all, this is the end result - what you both want.

However, the Devil on the other side, no no no. It wants you to make him suffer. To get revenge for all the times you were taken control of. It remembers all the days he turned you on with shoot photographs and all the nights he brought you to the brink only to stop you from tipping over with a cocky smirk and a cheeky wink.

The Devil was created from the moments when you thought you would actually erupt, begging for release, only to be shoved aside with a single growl of ‘don’t you fucking dare.’

Your desire to please him effectively silenced the Devil and kept it at bay. But no more. All those times built up and gave your Devil the power to force its way against your will to restrain it, causing it to rise to the surface.

You will have the upper hand.

So you push him away, keeping him at an arm’s length for your safety to have him on his toes. Forlorn eyes meet your steely ones, and you physically stop yourself from giving in to his puppy gaze - those eyes can turn icy and sultry when nailing you into the bed like his rent depended on it.

“Sit there. I have a-” You turn to switch on some music, “-small present for you.”

“If the small present isn’t me folding you in half and fucking you till sunrise,” He sits with visible reluctance, irises slowly transforming into magma orbs, “I don’t want it.”

“Well, we’ll see… Depends on how you behave.”

On a normal day, this comment would have lit your ass on fire, pronto.

Today isn’t a normal day at all.

You stride on, every noiseless step you take leaving a wreckage of nerves behind, ignoring the smoldering gaze he has locked on you- you are unsure whether he is deciding your punishment or simply admiring how his clothes fit on your body.

You stand on the side, drinking him in.

From your viewpoint, this is ridiculous. Those cursed jeans, vacuumed onto his thighs, ensure your eyes don’t miss a single ridge. His legs are spread out, beckoning you to have a seat, and the Angel once again begs for some reprieve. He knows what he’s doing; knows you inside and out- knows you couldn’t miss a chance to ride him like this. The wicked smirk flashing back at you is confirmation.

But you stymy that thought at its root. Walking behind, you wrap your arms around him to faintly buss his cheek.

“Sooo I was watching Filter…”

Jimin hums against your feeble touch. He wants more. The soft wind of your breath routing through his jeweled ear sends a wave of goosebumps down his spine. From behind, you run your hands over his sinewy biceps, taut in restraint - holding themselves back against the suffering you are putting him through.

“You do know how fucking hot you looked, right?” You playfully let your tongue toy with the hanging ornament, the briefest of flicks causing Jimin’s shoulders to push back, trying to connect with your bosom.

With a crooked finger under his jaw, you bring him to meet your eyes- eyes that are adorned with layered shadows of deep maroons, a variety of colors blending into your skin tone, eyelashes piqued up and ready to reach the clouds.

“So pretty…” He whispers out as you place your hat on its rightful throne - Jimin’s head.

A lone digit traces the lines of art you etched for him, appreciating every single stroke you put in to make a memorable time. Warm merigold rays bloom in your chest in response to his gaze, with him looking at you like you invented the sky. Pupils are dilated, and the only reason you can see each other is because of the practically nonexistent distance between you.

His eyes pick up on your tapering resolve to keep him in line. A light quiver of need passing your lips as you hopelessly vie for dominance is what most likely gives you away.

Grabbing you by the neck, he pulls you into a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into you with reckless abandon like he was a nomad all this while and your mouth has finally claimed him home. Your neck strains at the awkward angle and surely even his is hurting, but the pressure of his hand is unrelenting.

His tongue searches and searches, desperately looking for a part in you he has not yet explored. You’d think the years of togetherness would have diminished this fiery attraction but no, he comes onto you like he has a mission to prove - to validate his love for you, to plead you to be his. You would happily accept this shower of affection, returning it with due interest.

With great difficulty you part, a string of spit still connecting your lips because he has not let you move far enough. “Uh-uh. Be good.” You pout a little, breaking character.

“You’re here. In my clothes. A walking dream. How the fuck am I to be good?” He pulls you back in to continue what you cut short but you break the line of spit and his intention with a hand wedged between your faces.

“I asked you a question, Mister.” Back on your cocky nature, you graze your lips against oh-so-lightly, barely giving him anything to feel, but the tingling on his skin shows he can feel it all.

The adoration moves into a competition, “You tell me, sweetness - how did I look?”

It’s always the praise. He loves it when you struggle to tell him his dick was crafted by the heavens when you’re choking on it, but he still makes you do it. You stutter and stumble your words when his lips smack against your cunt, devouvering and digging for the treasure of your cum, but he forces you to tell him. When you sit on his dick, your brain has no sense of diction or direction, only chasing the high at his mercy, but he makes you scream it out loud, letting everyone beyond the pearly gates know, between moans and wails, that only he can break you down this way.

“This shirt, sweetie.” Your nose trails the path between his collar and the ends of his hair, basking in the sweet vanilla scent, “You’re all covered. Why, pray tell,” You dig your teeth into the point where his shoulder meets his neck, “does this sole patch of skin turn me on so bad?”

He sucks in an inhale through his clenched teeth, his stunning visage devoid of any virtue. His head is thrown back, hat toppling over in the movement and giving you a larger canvas to mark, an opportunity you happily grasp. The mellifluous tones he is producing is recorded in your mind for lonelier nights to come.

“And the red suit? Fuck, your corseted waist?” At the corner of your eye you see his fingers clenching into a fist, your lush voice making it harder and harder for him to breathe.

You slowly stride forward, painfully slow, letting him notice every single muscle of your body curving to his unspoken command, undoing one button at a time until your torso is revealed- and shows the true purpose of your scarlet eye makeup.

A deep burgundy camisole, ribbed at the waist to accentuate the way your hips flow has Jimin salivating to no end. The strappy number, with carmine ribbons flowing into your yet to be removed bottom half- a deed Jimin intends on rectifying very, very soon- calls to him sinfully. The lingerie twists and ties in incomprehensible ways, but the amount of cleavage it gives you is ungodly.

If they weren’t already, Jimin’s eyes are now wide open.

Time comes to a standstill as he checks out your whole figure, taking in every embroidered pattern on the lingerie and every embellishment on your breasts. Before, you were already a five-star meal, but now? An emperor’s feast.

The little flower right on top of your nipple has Jimin’s attention. His thumb comes up to trace the bedecked rose, following the stitched line of stem that takes him to the peak, then drawing over petal by petal. Each time he reaches close to your hardened nub, he abstains from crossing over it, making your nipple hardens imperceptibly under the presentiment of any relief and the disappointment when nothing arrives. His other hand, sitting on your waist, coaxes you to straddle him while he plays gardner on your bust.

“Jimin…” Your nipple, finally finding solace under his thumb, is not faring too well under the attention. Your plan of teasing him is slipping through your fingers like sand.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” His finger is now tracing the seams of your lingerie cups, admiring the way they frame your ample bosom. Things are progressing too slow for your liking, and you come clean with your ignoble intentions.

“Please, I just want to suck you off.”

A wad of spit lands directly into your cleavage, followed by two thick fingers penetrating the lubed entrance.

“Nope.” His fingers continue to shallowly fuck your cleavage. Neither of you are being touched in the erogenous zone, but why does it feel so good? Your valley is inundated with his dribble, coating your ensemble and shifting shades to a deep cerise. Every pump of his nimble fingers between your breasts is like a promise of what your pussy is going to go through. Will he fuck you hard and fast with your voice echoing across the room, making every neighbor privy of your sexual escapedes? Will he be slow and gentle, penetrate you with utmost care, soft gasps and whines only sounded to the two of you? You can never guess.

In the aphrodisiac moment, you forgot that you were supposed to take charge.

“Please, please, please! I did so much,” You take the guilt route. If Jimin was anything, he was a just and fair man. “Can’t I get that much?”

Jimin’s gaze has not left your wet cleavage. A flit of his eye makes contact with yours and goes back to the fucking - that is enough language for you to understand his needs. You bend low, and spit out a fat glob onto your chest to add to the mess he has already made. The groan that leaves him is ungodly, and he licks the spit you unloaded onto yourself, spreading it all over your expensive wear. He slurps like you released sweetened water to a parched traveller, your bosom holding all the sweetness to itself.

Gathering your thoughts is more difficult than you could ever imagine. The cloth over your nipples is completely soaked, bitten into and sticking to your skin thanks to the vacuum Jimin pulled on them. Your back has had a workout, every vertebrae bent to its maximum possibility. Chiropractors are so last year, you just have your boyfriend ravish your breasts.

“Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want.”

All of your five brain cells had to be put in action to form that sentence. The moment the words left your lips, the pressure your breasts were on had been released, but you could still feel lips against you, stretching into a snarky smirk.

“Whatever?” His grip on your waist tightens, seating you more firmly onto his taut thighs.

Whatever. That stupidly amazing word.

“Saying ‘whatever’ always lands you in trouble. Have you forgotten?” His damp lips are tracing your collarbones, nibbles whenever he felt appropriate. How does he expect you to form a damned sentence like this, the Devil on your shoulder indignantly asks. The Angel on the other has gone back in time to fetch memories filed under the term ‘whatever’, strictly saved for your quality alone-time.

The first time you told him to do ‘whatever he wants’ was fairly early into your relationship. Sex was as vanilla as the ice cream tastebud-less people liked, and none of you ever pushed it too far. A happy, drunken night with a loose-lipped confession from him.

“God, the things I want to do to you…” he had muffled into your hair, maybe not even intended for your ears to pick up.

A cheeky giggle had bubbled out of your tipsy self. “Like what, tie me up?”

If Jimin then were a color, he was a pantone pink. Blushed cheeks from the alcohol and the realization that you had caught him, airbrushed with a depth you weren’t able to put in place that early in the relationship. Wide-eyed horror was shown in its place, possibly exaggerated to add to the denial he had landed himself in.

“No no, of course, I don’t mean it like that, what ar-”

“Why not?”

The animal that awoke after confirming with you fifteen times was a force to be reckoned with. Your bra had turned into rope, wrists bound behind as he roughly squished your helpless cheeks.

“You will tell me when to stop, right?” His tongue peeked lightly, brushing your top lip, taking the perspiration away.

“Uhmf-yufh!”

“God, you’re gonna regret this baby.”

But it was exactly the opposite. You got the railing of a lifetime, heard the filthiest words that could leave the lips of such a courteous man - a side you had not expected at all. You couldn’t possibly recollect every single move he made, but what you can recollect with excruciating detail is every feeling you felt that night. It was filled with lust, with revelations of the new ways your body could bend, a night of puppetry where Jimin played you like the master your body craved. The following day was Jimin taking care of you, big puppy eyes wondering whether he took it too far. In his daze of letting go of control, he couldn’t take in your lidded stare, heaving with satisfaction - so you made sure he could witness them when he took you the next time that morning.

The other time the wretched word was mentioned was during an argument. You’re not jealous of Jimin on stage - it’s his career and you were one of the girls offering one of their kidneys to be able to catch a glimpse of him.

But your workspace? That’s where you draw the line.

She was a random worker. Some third-floor low-lying soul. You were eighth-floor premium material (the floors didn’t decide shit, but no one can tell you what skyscraper semantics you can craft in your brain). A lifeless party that even Jimin’s colorful locks couldn’t color up.

This random worker was very enamored by Jimin (as she should, the man is a whole nine-course meal). Supportive fans are not what get you jealous either.

But the limit is when placed her scrawny fingers on Jimin’s hand, drawing the glass in his grip to her lips and took a sip from it. If her lashes were fanned they could blow a man away (which is probably more than what her puny mouth could possibly do). The fume exiting your ears could have been in bright red for all you care, because every office member had been rightfully annoyed.

The whole car ride back was filled with your drunken blabbers about the different ways you could skin her. The actual victim beside you was not making a nearly big enough deal out of it, intending to let you get rid of your temper.

“She fucking knew!” Your normally clean disposition had taken its leave after the fuming temper took real estate in your brain, and you aimlessly threw your heel at some corner of the house - hungover self shall have to deal with this angry mess you’ve made. Wait, you’re an angry mess too.. “The gall she had, I should jus-”

You march towards the door, in hopes of what, you don’t know. But if you didn’t take action you’ll probably explode. Any action, just anything. You never find out though, because a strong arm slithered around your waist and halted your expedition.

“Calm down, feisty. Where are you going now?” His soothing voice, punctuated with a mocking chuckle almost quelled the fire in you. Almost.

But you’re not done being an idiot.

“To go find her for you. You’d fuck the living daylights out of her, right?”

The loudest silence you have ever encountered. Jimin’s grip on your waist tightened to the point where it could have hurt. Like he was trying to push every iota of that thought out of your body. From behind, you can hear a deep breath dragging, and somewhere in your irate head you knew you had struck a nerve, a bad one. Jimin is forced to expel any anger bubbling in him, trying to use reason with an unreasonable recipient.

“Princess, you don’t actually think I’d do that right?”

“I don’t know!” Your misplaced anger had reached the rooftops. Jimin had done nothing wrong here except try to calm an increasingly livid girlfriend. “Maybe you’d love that. Her itty-bitty waist, that whore’s outfit she had on. You call me a whore right? Maybe she’s more worthy of you!”

“Y/N.”

The timbre of his voice had completely changed. The breathy, airy aura had completely departed from your name he had just called. The lack of nicknames raised some hair at the nape of your neck, but you’re a stubborn one.

“Ugh, I don’t care.”

You tried to walk back to your room, head still reeling in a palace of inferno, burning everything that dares to intrude your path - but somehow, you had been pushed to a wall, and the eyes of the man you loved had turned feral.

If Jimin was a color, he was green - igniting with fury, anger repressed in dark shadows that never made the light of the day until pushed - but you pushed all right. And now released from its shackles, it has surrounded you and slammed you against the wall - and you have nowhere to go.

“You’re my whore. Is that a complaint from my stupid, stupid whore?”

The only joint you’re free to move is your neck, and your gratuitous self decided to rebel with whatever degree of freedom you have. Turning your face away to not meet his seething eyes, you continue your rebel-without-a-cause tantrum.

“Whatever.” you carped out.

Again, with that stupid word, you had signed your fate for the night.

Usually, you can express your feelings. Be it pain or pleasure (sometimes the two packed in one), you could wail it out to the heavens and respite would follow.

Usually, you can see the torments laid out on you. Jimin’s lithe body performing every obscene spell he invoked is a treat for your eyes. He treats your body like an artisan, using any medium to paint his art on you.

But that day, you were stripped of them both, and made to realize what a privilege they were.

Mouth stuffed with your bunched up panties, eyes blinded by his tie of the evening, you could only rely on the sensors on your skin to somehow predict what was going to be done to you. And you failed. Every single time. Every thwack fell on a new area. Every teasing touch tickled you at a new place. Nothing could begin to prepare you for his next move and you couldn’t keep up with his tameless pace.

He made you beg through the makeshift gag, beg to let you come, then beg to stop coming, beg for every orifice of yours to be filled by his seed and then beg to get cleaned by him. With the first rays of morning sunlight, language was an illusion, time was an out-of-reach concept, and all you knew was the worshipping of last night.

Whatever is a word. Whatever is mean. Whatever is filthy. Whatever is nailing you into the bed and rendering you immobile for the entire day. Whatever may just be a word to anyone, but to you it is what has you losing sense of reality, giving in to a phantasm of your wildest dreams.

A wet tap on your cheek brings you back from you imagining the past - the fingers that were fucking your cleavage are squishing your cheeks, bringing your attention back from all your dirty memories to the present - to create another memory to add to your folder.

If Jimin is a color, he is the darkest of all blacks. This is where everything pious comes to meet its sordid end. His sultry gaze is reading your eyes, searching for where you got lost, which shared memories of passed time made you melt into the puddle that you are right now.

“I said, don’t you remember? ‘Whatever’?”

Let’s see. You don’t have work tomorrow. You don’t have any commitments. You don’t have to meet anyone.

So there is no reason for you to be able to move.

“Hmmmmn, I don’t seem to recall - you could remind me.”

Dark, dark chuckles from such a cherubic face. You flounder off his lap to shuck your (his) pants away, revealing the matching maroon garter belt set. The whole outfit is an ode to Jimin’s mid performance transformation, the one that made many people’s hearts skip a quick beat. His slim, cinched waist, the flared pants flowing down his frame were one for the books, and you’d like to think your rendition has its place too.

Giving him a quick spin, you attempt to get down to business - but Jimin pulls you back on his lap. Without the pants, you can feel it - his hard, thick cock straining against the tough jean fabric and still making its presence known.

“Tell me more, baby. What did you like?”

The man was a sucker for your praise.

You were a sucker for the whole man.

But the sucking will probably have to wait.

“I loved your expressions. You’re so sexy on stage, fuck. Going around and giving bedroom eyes to the world.”

His hand gripping you ass gives it a quick pinch, but voice just let out a lazy hum to get you to continue.

“The choreography,”, your whisper is strained, “you dance like you fuck baby. So sensual, so sexy.”

You lick a stripe up his neck, from his artistic collarbones to the back of his ear, the sensitive spot that makes him hiss is arousal. You stay there, wanting to whisper the next few lines. The world didn’t need to know your thirst for this.

“You know my favorite part?”

“Oh, tell me.” His voice is hitting lower and lower in pitch, much like it’s hitting you lower and lower in your body.

You place the hand framing his face on his neck - the same one you want to cover in blooms of purple and red, lightly squeezing, letting him preen under the pressure. The tightness has Jimin’s head falling back on the headrest, and you can feel his pulse hastening to accommodate for the lacking oxygen in his stream.

Letting go of his throat, and pleased to see the lightest indentation on his beautiful pale skin, you snake your hands downward.

“Na, na, na,” Inching slowly towards your end goal, you whisper the tune into his ear, “na na na, na, na na”, covering every part with an indulgent languish, “pick your filter”.

Your hand finally reaches its destination - you grab his bulge and squeeze the hardness, making Jimin buck his hips against your palm.

“Namaneul damabwa.”

It’s a low whisper from his lips, but even in the gravelly sound you can hear how melodious he is, how the song rolls off of his tongue and was made for his vocal color. The whisper is laced with lust, with want, with desire, all the feelings you portrayed for him in his performance.

That, and in life in general.

You shuffle and sit to the side, simultaneously unbuttoning his jeans to get him some relief for the ache he had going on. Finally, you acquiesce and free his dick from its cages.

Every time you see him is a wonder to you. Hard, ridged, the right amount of veins to stimulate the walls of your cunt. Head leaking from the eons of teasing you’ve been doing, right from the text you sent to seconds ago. You bend down to clean him up, tasting the saltiness of his seed that has coated the head. Jimin’s lips are facing the brunt of your deeds - his teeth have found near permanent residence in its plushness, digging deep to keep from moaning too early, from giving you the pleasure. He is going to make you work.

Well, you must get to work.

Slowly, slowly, you dip your head in further, sucking lightly with each move, tongue tracing every vein on his dick. As you move your head back up, Jimin’s hand pushes into your back, making it arch further, and then you go down on his dick. His finger lightly follows the curve of your back, from your upper back all the way to the band of your lace panties.

Hooking a finger underneath the lace fabric of your panty that had disappeared in between your mounds of flesh, he pulls at it - hard. Your throat revolts against the intrusion as you gag, and the fabric presses into your clit. The concentrated abrasion turns into pleasure - he uses it to arch your back further, and bring your ass closer so that he can-

Smack!

The spank sends you forward and you choke on his dick further, throat giving in to his hardness.

“So good for me baby. Look at that ass.” He grabs one cheek, bubbled with the way your panties are now, squeezing and testing the firmness of your glutes.

Your plans of torturing him are shot; the Devil on your shoulder is strangely mute. Awakening the brat, you slip a hand under and toy with his balls, pulling back to provide your throat some recess. Your saliva mixed with his precum is an gushing mess, glistening on his balls and now coating your palms as you play with light squeezes - the existing stiffness caused by your teasing arousal mixed with your playful fingers make Jimin buck into your mouth, releasing a delicious groan in the process.

A second spank is a warning, either you increase your pace or reap some serious consequences. You consider the consequences; they are very compelling. You could end with delicious marks of ownership from this delicious man. But he deserves the best suck of his life, and you’re going to do just that.

Hollowing your mouth, you go further down, till his head is poking an uninvaded point in your throat, and Jimin lets out a surprising note. A groan, no, a roar, but a tinge of whine mixed in it, like the pleasure is too much for him.

You continue to swallow around, hand pumping the length you couldn’t take in, interlarded with swipes on his tight balls, leaving Jimin to be a heaving mess. Your ass is not faring better, bearing the brunt of his replies. You’re positive his fingerprints are imprinted on your asscheek, and one sit on his phone can unlock it. The line of your panties is drenched with your sopping wetness and lodged between the lips.

“God, I’m so close baby, just a little more.”

You would fervently nod in acceptance to whatever demand he places; in this position, he could ask you for the world and you would have it at his disposal. But what stops you are his ringed fingers lodged in your hair, pushing you in further, determined to spill deep in your throat, to the point where you don’t even have to swallow to get everything down.

“Fuck, such a good girl for me.” Jimin appraises how deep he is going, how your throat is accommodating him and quivering around his length. Bunching your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, he stops them from obstructing his vision - the view of you struggling to take him in, toiling to keep the need to breathe at bay while you tend to his needs, worshipping his dick like its the last meal you’ll ever get - your desperate adulation takes him over the brink.

Jimin erupts into your mouth; an ungodly amount at that. It is the hardest he’s come in a while, and given your lifestyle, that’s saying something. Even a cum-hungry whore like you can’t possibly swallow that much in one go, and you are forced to let the globs dribble down his now-softening member. The two of you are heaving, catching a breath - completely different circumstances but the same result.

The way you’re looking at him right now; his dick is already twitching to go for a second lap. Dilated pupils staring back, like you were at the receiving end of the orgasm - you are staring at him like he hung every star in the sky. Strings of cum are leaking out of the corners of your lips, ones he really wants to lap up with his tongue. Instead, you daintily dab it away - as innocent as pecking stray drops of ice cream off your mouth.

You look at him with teasing eyes. “Want a taste baby?”

Running your tongue along the mess you (or he) made, you gather the remnant cum that didn’t go into you, and instead flooded his groin. Straddling back onto his lap, you go in for a kiss but stop halfway.

Jimin is looking, waiting with lust hungry eyes. Slightly pained by the pause, he whines.

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

From a height, you let his cum and your spit drop into his mouth, a groan of satisfaction emanating as Jimin’s tongue accepts it with great delight. He tastes his juices, they somehow feel sweeter coming from your mouth. He pushes the glob you dropped on his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting every taste bud bathe in relish. When he’s sucked all flavor out of the globule he swallows it. On opening his eyes and landing back from heaven to earth, he sees you admiring his adam’s apple, the way it bobbed when he swallowed your offering.

Jimin’s eyes trace your current state; you look beautiful. The strappy red lingerie wet from Jimin’s treatment perfectly showcases your peaked nipples, ready for another round of torture. His shirt, through all this has managed to stay hanging on your shoulders. The curves of your sinful waist accentuated by the ribbons of the wear, like roads down a windy path, every ribbon vanishing into their destination, between your curvaceous thighs.

Slipping his fingers under the band, he decides he has not played with the lingerie enough, tugging it up once again - a sharp inhale and you’re moving along with it, upward to balance between the point of pain and pleasure. Jimin makes sure you don’t tip in favor of one. Grabbing you by the neck, Jimin harshly pulls you down into a deep kiss.

He’s done waiting, done watching you take the reins. His tongue tells you that you now can only react to his doings. Deepening the kiss, you let your mind walk places. Back to his performance, his stage presence, the aura he exudes when he is in his element. His sinful body melding to the flow of the beat, like the music was made to his movement - his piercing gaze that could leave an insentient camera with blushed cheeks - but a sharp bite pulls you right back to the present to remind you that this is also Jimin in his complete element. Pillowy lips, incandescent with every brush, sucked and nipped with fervor. But it still didn’t satisfy. It wasn’t nearly enough. Starved, you wanted to scream at every imperceptible air pocket between the two of you - as if you knew in your soul they were guilty of keeping you away.

Jimin pulls away, and his words shut you down before the whine leaves you.

“About that ‘whatever’…” his sinister eyes are a window to his brain churning something unimaginable to close the night - sinister in uppercase. Make it bold. Underline that shit. That’s him.

In the bat of an eye, you are face down on the sofa - Jimin’s rock hard thighs are straddling you, making sure you can handle his weight. In all the coarseness, he takes care of the smallest of things. An untimely smile creeps up on your face at the thought, the tender show of affection amidst the rough push and pull affecting your immersion, but you can’t say you don’t like it.

Feeling a rough jerk on your shoulder, you try to look back, just in time to receive Jimin’s ravenous gaze; he looks at you like he will eat you alive, and by the end of the night you plan on having just that. Pulling back your now-unbuttoned shirt and bunching its ends, he anchors you to the position of his choice by tying your hands behind.

Smelling a line up your neck all the way up to your hair, he briefly pauses to ask “Okay?”

Your tiny nod is enough for Jimin to carry on with whatever godless plan he has chalked out for you.

“I hope you had your fun. Because I’m not going easy on you.”

Light banter could cause no trouble. Atleast, not more than you already have. “When have you ever?”

Flashbacks of the blossoming days of your relationship flicker in Jimin’s mind, their fugacious presence a telling sign of how long it has been. Looking downward, he can only thank his alcohol-induced blabbering of that night as that is the reason he can enjoy the view he has right now.

“Maybe I should take it easy?” His tongue flits across your neck, too soft for your liking, torturous like his liking.

His fingers are playing with the straps and your now exposed upper back. It’s always been a favorite place of his. The whole expanse looks resplendent when he is done tasting you. Maroon and purple florets on your beautiful, glowing skin. And then you purposely wear dresses to show it all off, to show who your heart belongs to. He loves that about you.

You gyrate lightly, snapping him out of his daze, begging him to take you hard and fast. “Jimin, please.” a low drawl leaves you as you try to not slobber all over the cushion.

Jimin shifts lower to straddle your thighs. Snaking his hand between your legs, he finds your clit and plays with it, every press releasing a different sound from different depths of your throat. A particularly low grunt appears when he slips two fingers into your channel with smooth ease, and pushes you up from the inside.

“Ass up for me.”

His fingers stay lodged inside as you raise your hips to obey him, pulling you up further and further till he is satisfied with your position. God, your pussy looks wrecked. With every pump of his fingers you gush our more liquid, and Jimin gathers the escaping drops on this tongue.

“So perfect for me, this hole.” You can feel the cold metal of his rings drawing circles inside you as he prepares you to take his cock. His tongue, drawing completely different characters is too slow for your liking - he seems to be more satisfied in drinking your cum dripping from his fingers instead of paying attention to your throbbing clit. Seconds go by, several hinting moans of dissatisfaction go by, but the Devil on your shoulder seems to have returned and is asking for more. A hip raise, that’s all. His tongue will be right where you want.

What you got instead was a sharp bite on your already battered ass - Devil, hey, where did you go? “Behave.” He grunts against your pussy, and a fresh wave of arousal escapes you with a third finger making its way in. “Don’t like it? Too,” Smack! “Fucking.” Smack! “Bad.”

The last spank hit you hard, leaving your cunt soaked to the core. He is trying to get a rise out of you, and you are falling for it. Your smarting skin is at its breaking point, but let’s not pretend like you don’t want this either.

“Baby please, I’m so close.” You’re close to tears with how long you’ve been this turned on. Maybe Jimin will have a change of heart seeing you like this.

“Don’t.”

Well maybe not.

He’s using your hole like playdough - for his fancy, with no end goal in sight. He doesn’t seem to want you to come anytime soon and it is bothering you to no end. The tightening coil in your belly is almost painful at this point - but he doesn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon.

“You taste so sweet baby, almost don’t want to let you come, so you keep dripping like this.”

His fingers curl into you to hit that spot, and God, you’re seeing stars right now. Curling up your fists into a ball and trying to keep the threatening tsunami at bay, you jerk into his mouth and continue to sway to the tune his fingers play inside you. If desperation had a poster girl, they could take your photo right now.

“If you let me come I -ohhh- I will- I will give you more.” Your words are broken, every push into your cunt halting your flow of speech.

A split second later you are empty. He’s pulled away from you, and you think the finger-fucking torture you were going through was almost better than this. Your walls flutter in empty anguish.

“Better keep your promise then.” Finally, you hear Jimin shuffling behind, but your muscles feel too alive and too dead at the same time. At crossroads, you are unable to get yourself to move, to twist or turn and witness the glory of him, the scrunch of his features, the grit of his pronounced jaw, his lips heaving a sigh as he pushes his girthy self into your leaking hole.

Jimin’s forehead is lined with sweat, jaws hurting from the tight clench he had trying to not nut into you too soon. Now they revolt in pain, ready to pass on their trouble to his dick and release into you the moment he fits himself in. But he held off; he had plans for you - long plans.

As he slowly pulls himself out, you can’t help but mewl at the pleasure your walls are feeling, with every ridge of his cock pressing all the right spots inside you, the snug fit when he’s pulled out all the way only leaving the head inside you. Then, you can’t help but yell, expressing a mixture of anguish and pleasure when his hips snap to push into you in one swoop, hitting deep inside you. With your ass high up in the air, his balls smack your engorged bud, sending shockwaves throughout your body and clenching the hold you have on his dick.

“Fuck baby, you feel fucking tight. You’re so close?” Jimin’s voice is strained as well; the lack of mocking in his tone tells you he is close as well.

“Ki-Kiss me, please.” The voice that leaves you is so foreign, so unknown. The fucked out woman speaking in your stance has no spatial or temporal comprehension. You don’t even realize how you are put on your back, now a lucky witness to Jimin’s nimble figure pushing back into you as he leaned over to slot his lips on yours.

The kiss was explicit, it was rough, it would put to any kiss you’ve shared before to shame. Deep in throes of pleasure, his mouth is chasing yours. Your hands are still bound; a light fight against the restrain tells you you don’t have a chance. Instead, you suck his plush lip in, swiping your tongue across his cherry petals that are rushing with blood because of you. Dormant volcanoes across the world could erupt with the blaze of your merging lips, it is scorching hot.

If Jimin is a color, he is a rich wine - deep and passionate. He puts his one hundred percent into whatever he does, be it skilled singing, adept dancing or simply fervent kissing. He gives it his all.

Jimin’s skillful hips move in every way he wishes - and your pussy is thankful for that. Rolling in deep, he tests the stretch of your walls, before pistoning into you with zeroed-in precision, sole focus to get you to come with him. The effort he was putting in could be seen in his abs - they have tightened with exertion, and with a light sheen on sweat, look absolutely delectable.

Letting your hands roam, you bring Jimin’s face into your neck where you can hear every single breath, every hiss, every groan - that you could record and keep in your memory. With one hand tugging his tresses, and the other hand drawing paths on his back with your nails, you hear the sounds you want to. Jimin sharply bites your ear, and the shockwaves of pleasure send you tipping.

There’s layers to the pleasure you are experiencing right now, your orgasm hitting you in ebbs and flows. Right when you think you can finally return back to ground, the high tide pulls you back into the water for another stream of pleasure. It feels like eternity when you finally hit the land, and even then the loose sand makes you falter, threatens to send you back into the ocean.

Jimin’s pace is faltering, and he spills soon after. Hot, heavy breaths tickle under your ear, as both of you feel the sheer intensity of the orgasm. Him on you, your hearts are aligned, and you can feel the beats fighting each other for dominance until they soften down.

Ripples of energy flow out of the both of you, elevating the temperature around the two of you. If you didn’t have your eyes closed you’d say literal rolls of steam are emanating from the way you both are heaving. You slowly regain your senses, twitching hands trying to remember what it is that hands even do.

A shiver runs through your spine when you hear a grunt so close to your ear, only to realize Jimin is in the same position as you are in. Even without looking, you can guess what his expression is. Void of any edge, the softness of his facial features must have made their return, with crinkled eyes and a light frown on his beautiful pouty lips, he probably looks like an innocent caricature of the man that stood behind you moments ago. Letting your palm rest on his head, you beckon him to get up.

If Jimin is a color, he is the pinkness best portrayed by his puffy cheeks at this moment. A childlike glow, a guileless visage. He looks at you with such adoration, like you are the only desire in his world, and everything else can be damned.

You don’t want to break this silence but you cheekily add, “You didn’t even get me naked. Like this a bit too much eh?”

Dark clouds mar the pink and turn it into a deep, sultry carmine - the shift in his color noticeably brings your temperature down by a few degrees.

“Cute. You think I’m done with you.”

He is the whole palette, and you can pick your filter.

Thank you for making it to the end! Let me know what you think! And you can find more of my writing at my masterlist here!

#bangtansorciere #bangtanhq #bangtancentralstation #ficswithluv #bangtaninn #bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #bangtanuniversity

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heathercubedfic · 2 years ago

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odd numbers x

thank you heatherrr btw everyone shut up and read recurrence. heather wrote that. it's fab. sound of the summer

1. give short descriptions of all your current WIPs.

atla - sokka is suspicious of zuko when he first joins their group, idiots to lovers ensues. 1400 out of an estimated 3000-5000 words.

thg - longform piece following johanna mason from her games through to the end of mockingjay. in very early planning stages

h*rry p*tter - an old drarry soulmates au, 1400 words, shelved permanently. might try to rework the soulmate concept for another fandom and pairing.

yugioh - gen ghost hunting au, in which yami bakura is ryou's demon bodyguard, yugi is a psychic, and atem is his guardian angel. 8300 words, needs heavy revision

ouran - tamakyo zombie au. 5900 out of an estimated 12,000+ words, needs heavy revision

ouran - tamakyo, what i have jokingly titled "why does tamaki call you babygirl". 800 words of fragmented scenes, needs work

ouran - kyoya and renge bitching at each other. 300 words, more of a scene than a fic, needs work

3. what makes you love writing?

i think i write because it's an elaborate version of playing pretend, but instead of stuffed animals i play with blorbo from my shows.

5. what do you think is the most important part of writing?

i think i've answered this question before with "research", but now i would say intention. like, being intentional about what you say and how you are saying it, to what effect, etc.

7. what books have shaped the way you think about writing the most? why?

the hunger games trilogy and the ballad of songbirds and snakes, because it only gets better when i come back to it as an adult, now that i can adequately understand the rhetorical and narrative devices at play.

the works of vladimir nabokov and ernest hemingway have also influenced the way i look at writing. nabokov is meticulous and hemingway is succinct, so both of them measure their words heavily in order to give the right effect. reading them has made me more deliberate about my creative choices.

9. what are you best and worst at when writing?

i think i'm consistently strong at dialogue, but pacing is my achilles heel. that was always the number one critique i got in workshop, i never know intuitively where to pick up or slow down.

11. give three songs or images that fit [WIP].

we're gonna go with the johanna fic bc i have a playlist that has fueled so much of my obsession

good lie by sammy copley

fire by kimya dawson

that unwanted animal by the amazing devil (!!!!!!!)

13. describe your writing style.

the characteristics that get brought up the most are my sense of humor, voice, and character work, which are obviously what i focus on, but i'm not sure how i would go about describing those any further without sounding like i'm totally up my own ass about it.

15. what do drafting and revision look like for you?

i don't usually do drafts for fanfiction. revision usually consists of me coming back to a project repeatedly to tweak things and rework ideas that i've grown sour on.

17. how do you determine what mood each project has?

basically whatever i feel like writing at the time. the mood and vibes come with the initial idea far more than any plan for a plot does. heather cubed was primarily comedic because i wrote it for fun, but progressed to be (even if only slightly) more mature and heartfelt as i got more sentimental about the project, despite the absurd plot.

19. do you plan out your projects? if yes, to what level? how well do you stick to your plans?

i plan bigger projects like heather cubed, but my shorter pieces are played pretty much entirely by ear. it's easy for me to get stuck in the planning stage though, so that's why heather cubed is my only multichapter story.

my plan for heather cubed was mostly a list of plot beats to incorporate, but i strayed from that sometimes if it felt more organic to go a different route. i also had a running list of jokes i'd try to incorporate, if i saw or overheard something funny and didn't want to forget, like the mattress store phone call.

21. what are the most important facets of creating a character, to you?

voice is always number one on my list, but i've been trying to get better at zeroing in on character motivations. without a plot, your story is driven by your characters, and i do a Lot of character studies. so it needs to sound like them, and the psychology needs to track.

#h^3 author blab

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angeltrapz · 3 years ago

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i just read your latest fic and i really enjoyed it! i was curious, where did you get the idea for daniel/Tracy/alison?

Thank you so much!! <33

As for where I got the idea for Alison/the Riggs, at first it was just Alison/Tracy bc it always struck me how similar their stories are in some ways - absent husbands (though Daniel is absent via trying to solve Eric's disappearance & rescue him) who throw themselves into their work to kind of... not have to think abt things? If that makes sense? And husbands who don't realize how much their actions are impacting their family - it's not that they don't care, but it's truly that they're so immersed in what they're doing that they just... don't realize that the things they're dealing with + how they're dealing with them are affecting the ones they love.

Lawrence and Daniel are also very similar in my mind too, bc the reason they throw themselves into their work is that they have trouble with the thought of confronting things - Lawrence is afraid to admit that anything is wrong/that he's unhappy w the life he currently lives, whereas Daniel doesn't want to entertain the thought that he's hurting himself by overworking (he just wants to get Eric back - and after Kerry's death as well, of course he holds onto that hope. I HC that the three of them were pretty close until... you know. Eric & Kerry's Thing - then it was rlly only Eric & Daniel who remained close. And I've always HCed that Daniel & Eric were always close, too - I think of Daniel Rigg being Eric's son's godfather + the man he was named after).

And then as for why I changed it to include Daniel (other than Mr. Daniel Rigg being one of my fave characters in this entire franchise, I love him so much), that's because I couldn't rlly bear to separate him and Tracy,,, since Adam is alive in this AU as well, that means Daniel (and by extension quite a few others, but this isn't abt them fkjdhskjfds maybe sometime I can explain this whole AU?) also survived his test + I just... it's very apparent to me that he loves Tracy so much. Watching SAW IV for the first time and seeing him in the motel being afraid to open that chest bc he's afraid Tracy's been hurt/killed? It broke my heart!! He truly does love her so much (and I think she loves him just as much) and it didn't feel right to like. Disrupt that. When I could have them both here!! Tracy Rigg has two hands!!

So she and Daniel are still married, but Tracy is also dating Alison! Some brief basics are that Tracy & Daniel are both poly, both bi, and have an open relationship (though after IV I Def think they need to have a serious talk abt how Daniel's involvement w the Jigsaw case affected them and their relationship).

I like to think that the way Alison and Tracy met was actually through like... a Jigsaw survivors’ group meeting (separate from Bobby Dagen's)? One that was created in mind to both help direct Jigsaw victims and their family members cope with what they've been thru and learn abt ways to help, since there's a greater number of Jigsaw victims out there than just the ones the movies focus on. Alison's been attending regularly since the first movie, whereas Tracy (and probably Daniel a few times, ngl) starts attending after IV, and that's how they met; Alison is a good deal more experienced with how the group works/what they do, so she's one of the first people to talk w new members & kinda help them acclimate to a group setting if that makes sense.

They get to talking after that and realize they have quite a bit in common - not just the whole husband situation - and it blossoms from there. Tracy is obviously upfront abt her & Daniel's open relationship before they even get together, and while it takes some getting used to (Ali is poly as well, she's just not as used to like. Actually being in relationships like that while she was married to Lawrence), it turns out the two of them are very good for each other and help each other heal - and Alison & Daniel get along great when they're introduced!!! Basically this ship was solely based on the fact that I wanted these three to be happy and it kind of became its own thing! ;v;

#asks #I hope this makes sense djkhfjksd it's such a complex thing in my head #and despite giving it a whole lot of thought I hardly talk abt it so!! ty for the opportunity!!#saw #alison #tracy #rigg #(it is SO confusing in my head to refer to daniel as daniel bc my brain. just goes 'oh that's rigg')#(and daniel in my brain is also daniel matthews?? so djfhkjs that's why I use rigg's first name here. for clarification)#anyway. I'm not certain whether or not lawrence is also poly but adam is! (part of tht might be bc my poly ass is projecting but. whatever!)#IF I go w the idea tht lar is also poly: eric & art might make an appearance!#also off-topic but not really: also been considering alison/jill?#probably in an au where she just ignores john's will and doesn't do shit lmao bc the minute ali found out she was enacting that will?#ihhh she wld Not be down. it'd be over pretty quick #anyway. SRRY for the tag rant <3 I have so many thoughts sdkjfhasjk

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fonulyn · 4 years ago

Text

fonulyn’s 2020 in fics

this is kind of exciting since in 2020 I did get a lot writing done, and it marks the second year in a row that I’m able to actually make one of these posts after that horrible not good at all terrible disastrous three and a half years when I wrote absolutely nothing. so it’s a triumph to get another one of these up! personal victory haha.

in total, in 2020 I wrote 148 fics, ranging from like 200 words to 34k (idk if those short things can be called fics but i just did). by pairing, there’s

13 of Joe/Nicky

58 of Piers/Leon

56 of Chris/Leon

(1 with Piers/Leon and Chris/Leon)

5 of the ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

11 of Krauser/Leon

3 of Wesker/Chris (lmao still can’t believe this)

1 of Chris/Leon/Krauser

so. in retrospect, i did okay.

it’s over 300 thousand words and I am kind of. surprised. and that is not counting the approximately 50k of wips i’m ignoring :’D

I’d also like to take a second to thank everyone who has ever sent me nice messages, commented on the fics, left reblogs or kudos, and the like. you’re what kept me going, I wouldn’t have gotten even half as much done otherwise.

without further ado, links to all of the fics under the cut! they’re organized by pairing, and the links take you to tumblr posts (bc I’m lazy) and a lot of them have a link in the post that takes you to ao3. (also can you see I put ~~so much~~ effort into naming the tumblr ficlets :’D feel free to laugh at me)

Joe/Nicky

a dog by any other name | 1,5k | The one wherein they end up owning a dog.

within the heart a flame of desires | 5,0k | Nicolo watches Yusuf have sex with others, desperately wishing he was with him instead. Until things change. He much prefers having Yusuf all for himself.

the world will wait | 2,4k | The one wherein Joe takes a lot of naps and the whole team gets to relax.

catch this | 650w | Every time Joe gets distracted (by Nicky), Andy tries to take him by surprise.

nobody’s perfect | 1,9k | Even immortal warriors have their weaknesses, Nile learns. Those just aren’t what she expected.

only in these arms | 780w | Nicky has trouble sleeping alone. Andy is a decent substitute, but only when Joe returns so does Nicky’s ability to get a decent night’s rest.

(please don’t explain) that time in Malta | 580w | Nile doesn’t think at first it would even be possible for Joe to be embarrassed. By anything. Until one evening, they talk about Malta.

cool it down boys | 400w | Andy gets no sleep. She gets revenge, though.

cowboy, baby | 340w | Nicky has the fashion sense of a sack of flour, and he is fine with that.

that day is not today | 4,9k | They struggle through the whole lab-experience. It isn’t the time yet to forgive Booker.

tea, soup and tlc | 2k | The one wherein Joe is not sick. At all. Nope. He isn't.

two drinks too many | 770w | Nicky is a little drunk. Joe loves him anyway.

safe haven | 3,9k | The one wherein everyone gets quality cuddles from Joe.

Piers/Leon

it was you that I found | 23,4k | Leon doesn’t really do relationships. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he always seems to be so bad at them. Of course entirely by accident he manages to build one without even realizing it.

unexpected visitor | 690w | Piers is forced on bed-rest. At least Leon stops by.

got me all tied up (never let me go) | 4,0k | Piers doesn’t like suits. Leon loves Piers in a suit.

not so subtle | 210w | “Soo, were you checking me out all night, or was that just my imagination?” Leon asks suddenly, Piers chokes on his drink in surprise.

nighttime fools | 4,8k | Piers and Leon get arrested for public indecency. It’s not their fault, honest.

piers isn’t sick, really, he isn’t (he is) | 670w | “Oh, hi,” Piers said immediately, a goofy smile slipping onto his face. Man, he was happy to see Leon. So happy to see him.

so you’ve met Xena | 620w | “Xena?” Leon turned to look at Piers, decidedly unimpressed. “You named your dog after the Warrior Princess?“

you’re cute, you know | 680w | Piers took the opportunity the second their gazes met. He grinned, as charmingly as he possibly managed, and said “You’re cute, you know that?“

kiss the nightmares away | 470w | Sleepily Piers blinked, trying to make his eyes work properly. He squinted at the digital clock on the bedside, and its harsh red numbers that told him it was 3:30, and confusedly he turned to frown at Leon. “Why aren’t you sleeping?“

smooth talking, Nivans, very smooth | 1,4k | Piers can not control what comes out of his mouth.

dream a little (dirty) dream of me | 1,3k | Piers wakes Leon up. That's it.

your shirt is my shirt | 950w | With a sigh Piers grabbed the only shirt available that wasn’t battery operated and obnoxious. It was Leon’s, so old that the print had faded completely, leaving only faint outlines behind. And when Piers pulled it on he grumbled again, realizing how tight it was.

here for you | 620w | Leon can’t sleep, but somehow Piers makes his anxieties bleed away.

grand plans | 260w | “Are you seriously going to wear that?”

new puppy | 430w | “Hey there little guy.” Leon bent down to pick up the little puppy, straightening again to hold it against his chest. His hands looked almost comically large as the dog was so tiny, and carefully he cradled it close.

a little bit funny | 850w | So maybe Piers hadn’t slept properly in days, and the sleep deprivation was making him a little hysterical, but he didn’t even remember when a stupid comedy would’ve made him laugh so much.

for now our time is here | 4,4k | When Chris had told them to wait up and left them alone for a while, this probably wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but the second he’d closed the door behind himself the tension that had been brewing between Leon and Piers had snapped like a cord.

wanting too much | 1,1k | “Fucking hell, never do that to me again,“ Leon huffed out, clearly relieved beyond anything.

the prettiest agent with the prettiest hair | 1,2k | Piers stress-braids. Leon doesn't mind. And besides, Piers always undoes the braids whenever he's done with them. Until one night he forgets.

you can be the air that i breathe | 1,0k | It wasn’t the first time Piers got punched in the face by a gigantic BOW so hard that the hit sent him flying. It was, however, the first time he was sent careening off a bridge and into the river below. And it was, definitely, the first time Leon saved his life.

before I found you | 890w | The second Piers realized that the spikes covering the monster actually came off, and it was able to shoot them towards its attackers, it was already too late for him to react.

you don’t need to stay | 950w | Piers did his best to take care of Leon. And as much as Leon appreciated it, he didn’t want to be a goddamn nuisance.

need me, baby, just a little stronger tonight | 2,1k | Leon really has to practice perfecting his poker face. At least he gets what he wants in the end.

be my valentine | 920w | “Are you sure?“ Piers asked for the tenth time, frowning down at the bar of Fazer blue chocolate. “I still think it’s… not a lot?”

you're the world that I wanna discover | 7,5k | The one wherein they buy a house, fall even more in love, and Leon reaches a breaking point.

call me (tell me what you feel) | 1,7k | Leon is stuck at the airport. At least he gets a nice phone call with Piers.

incentive to stay alive | 1,0k | "Hey, Nivans, wake up,” he tried, but there was no answer, and he couldn’t help but let the worry in his voice. “Piers. Don’t you dare die on me. Chris would kill me if I let anything happen to his best sniper.”

blanket hog Leon | 880w | Grumbling, Piers turned around, and as he’d expected Leon was cozily wrapped in at least four blankets, leaving nothing for Piers, who was currently freezing his ass off.

I give you all I am | 2,0k | “Leon?” Piers approached in quick steps, watching recognition flicker in Leon’s eyes as he lowered his own weapon too. Leon was slumped against the wall, hunched over and holding his side, and there was something feverish about his eyes. Yet as soon as he realized it was Piers he gave a shaky grin, even if that was all he managed.

why are the gorgeous ones always taken | 810w | Piers blinked his eyes open slowly, expression scrunched up, and it took a long moment before he managed to actually focus his gaze on Leon’s face. When he did, a smile immediately bloomed on his face, and he even tilted his head a little. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” he croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use.

still intact | 1,1k | It took a week before the level of painkillers was correct and Piers woke up with a gasp instead of a scream. And the first thing he asked was for someone to kill him.

of guns and ...guns | 270w | Leon likes the way Piers handles his rifle. There’s drool involved.

always fashionable | 540w | Apparently having a crush on the well-dressed, professional Leon translated into being absolutely fucking in love with the sleep-mussed and squinty Leon.

misplaced phones and revelations | 660w | Chris finds Piers’ phone. Which turns out to be Leon’s phone. The two turn out to be dating. Chris feels kind of blind.

yee-haw! | 1,0k | Leon rides Piers. Wearing a cowboy hat.

you’re cute when you’re angry | 620w | When he’s stressed, Piers washes the dishes. Angrily.

want to drink (with) you | 1,1k | Piers is an embarrassing drunk. Leon loves him anyway.

and each one of us is a path somewhere | 22,2k | Piers gets thrown twenty years back in time. Into Raccoon City, 1998. He’d heard about what Leon went through that night, but he never thought he’d have to actually experience it himself. Together with bright eyed rookie Leon.

hold me close | 560w | Leon falls asleep against Piers’ shoulder.

goatee man | 890w | Piers thinks growing a beard might make him look more manly.

promises kept | 2,9k | Leon finds out Piers isn't dead after all. He's just locked up in a BSAA research facility with no one allowed in to visit.

stay with me tonight (stay until the end of life) | 2,2k | Leon doesn’t know I’m contacting you, but a fair warning, because I’m worried. He was found unconscious on the bathroom floor at 10AM. They took him to the hospital, but he checked himself out. Look after him, okay?

4am | 760w | “What can I say,” Piers grinned against Leon’s neck, “I was dreaming of you.” He had no reservations about moving his hips, letting Leon feel just how nice the dream had been.

caffeinated | 550w | Someone gives Piers coffee. Leon knows what to do with that excess energy.

and i'm you and you're me | 7,0k | The one wherein Leon and Piers accidentally swap bodies.

girls’ day in bed | 780w | Piers and Leon wake up one morning with boobs and other assorted lady parts. It’s a fun day. (Spoiler alert: they have a lot of sex.)

worlds apart | 3,2k | Krauser kidnaps Piers to lure Leon to him. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

not again | 530w | Watching Piers’ mutation brings Leon some very unfortunate flashbacks. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

gorgeous | 300w | Piers calls Leon gorgeous.

the most comfortable pillow | 350w | Leon falls asleep with his head on Piers’ lap.

beautiful | 840w | Even after losing an arm and ruining half of his face, Piers is the most beautiful thing to Leon.

as seen in adult films | 580w | Piers doesn’t know one damn thing about dishwashers. He volunteers to fix one anyway.

never letting go | 260w | Leon is goddamn comfortable right here. He isn’t going to move a single inch.

nose kisses | 390w | Piers is cute when he’s cranky. Just ask Leon.

no other half could ever make me whole | 6,3k | The one wherein they get a scare and there's a proposal.

the luxury of being held | 690w | The fabric of Piers’ hoodie is the perfect place to hide. (feat. Theo’s amazing art)

just one step from heaven, one step from paradise | 2,7k | The one wherein Piers makes sure Leon doesn’t freeze, and they enjoy their vacation.

all is fair in war, love and Mario Kart | 600w | Piers sucks at Mario Kart.

Chris/Leon

if i never see all my dreams come true, the one that mattered the most was you | 5,9k | Chris enlists Leon’s help on a mission as a clever ruse to make the man take a break he so obviously needs.

and I don't want to know how slow the time must flow | 11,1k | Chris and Leon try to fight their way out of a castle and feelings take over.

you are my heart, you are my home | 3,2k | Chris is sick, and he’s being extra dramatic about it.

from the gates of longing | 5,5k | Chris volunteers to take Leon home, but ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.

how to accidentally get adopted - a guide by Piers Nivans | 2,3k | Piers accidentally keeps calling Chris dad, and Chris and Leon sort of unofficially adopt him.

right here by your side | 1,9k | When Chris shows up to check up on Leon, four days into his self-imposed flu-exile, at first Leon wants to just throw him out. But then it turns into a relationship-building moment and suddenly he can’t mind all that much.

about time | 1,8k | Leon is freezing. Chris warms him up.

yet you'll lose yourself in me | 3,3k | The one wherein Chris is generously proportioned and Leon kind of loves it. (whispers: size kink)

beyond tomorrow | 1,7k | Leon ends up in the hospital after a mission, Chris hurries to see if he’s okay. Claire is already there.

look at those heart-eyes | 180w | Quickly Chris shook his head, reluctantly pulling his attention away from Leon.

there’s a cat in the sink | 220w | “There’s a cat in the sink, and we don’t own a cat.”

from the future | 300w | It’s 1998 and Leon comes face to face with himself, from 2017.

surprise redfield | 250w | “Don’t worry,“ Chris says, nonchalantly as if it’s an everyday occurrence that he’s standing in Leon’s kitchen.

need this feeling to last (there's no denying) | 2,4k | “Why don’t you fuck me yourself, you coward!“

something solid, something good | 520w | Chris was so warm, and that together with all the glorious skin-on-skin contact made Leon happily sink back into the embrace.

come closer | 520w | Leon is done with Chris being so careful around him.

your arms around me | 690w | Chris woke up cold and alone.

a needed break | 440w | Sometimes Chris got so single-mindedly stuck on a task that he forgot everything around himself.

the iron maiden | 820w | Suddenly it was hard to breathe, like he couldn’t fill his lungs with oxygen no matter how much he tried, to the point that his vision started to get blurry.

robin hood: chris in tights | 480w | Chris’ face was twisted into a theatrical grimace as he tugged a little on the green tights we was wearing. They were like painted on and although he didn’t really have body issues in general, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about it.

luckless romance | 4,0k | Leon and Chris turn a drunken argument into something better. (Please note: The link takes you to the last part of six.)

take my hand | 920w | The worst part, by far, is not seeing anything. There are sounds, people talking like he isn’t even in the room, machines beeping and doors opening, quick busy steps against the floor.

let me take you to the edge of the stars and back again | 3,0k | Chris takes his sweet, sweet time before he gives Leon what he wants.

I’m going to seduce you | 1,1k | Jesus Christ, they’d had sex. Leon groaned again, this time less because of the headache and more because he felt so unbearably dumb. He’d probably had the best sex of his life, and he couldn’t remember it.

a little help | 430w | Those fucking idiots, Claire thought for the millionth time, as she watched her brother give the biggest dumbest heart eyes at Leon, who was blissfully oblivious about everything going on around him.

the way to anyone’s heart (the answer is food, good food) | 2,4k | Chris asks Leon to teach him how to cook. (Spoiler: Leon doesn't know how.)

oh the horror | 270w | “I seriously don’t understand why you want to watch this shit,” Leon groaned, pressing his face into Chris’ chest.

jealousy | 670w | Chris swallowed hard, downed the last of his beer, and took the leap. “I’m jealous okay.”

twist me up | 510w | Sure Chris had always known that Leon was flexible. Sure he had seen him even do these weird-ass yoga poses more than once. There was nothing new to it.

meet the parents | 600w | Leon brings Chris home for Christmas.

precious cargo | 930w | Chris lugs Leon around like luggage.

it's always been you | 870w | The hardest thing for Leon was when someone he cared about was in danger but there was nothing he could do about it. And then Chris fell into a ravine.

come away with me (to another world) | 2,0k | Leon finally gets a vacation.

first time sucker | 930w | “I don’t know, because it’s fun?” Leon said. “I promise you, you’re missing out.”

read my scars | 1,9k | Chris learns about Leon's scars.

battered and bruised | 650w | Ignoring the bruises and scrapes he had, Chris turned around and sprinted towards Leon, gritting his teeth against the strain moving put on his side.

a different kind of proposal | 500w | “If you keep fucking me this good,“ he breathed out, unsure if Chris even heard the words, “I’ll have to marry you.“

welcome home | 370w | The door had barely fallen shut behind Chris when Leon was in his personal space, grabbing him by the lapels of the trench coat he was wearing so he could pull him in close for a kiss.

I’d always choose you | 280w | Ada was something they didn’t talk about. When someone, anyone, brought her up Leon clammed up and changed the subject. And Chris had tried to be understanding, had tried to be patient, had tried his very best to respect Leon’s boundaries with this. But Chris was only human.

fuck or die | 1,7k | Chris gets hit by a weird plant, and his hard-on just will not go down. Until Leon takes matters into his hands.

i need a hug | 470w | “I think,“ Leon sighed, but then it was like all fight bled from him and he slumped a little forward. “I need a hug.“

oh no there’s only one bed | 990w | “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just one night. I’m sure you’ve slept with worse persons than me.”

the butt that became a pillow | 420w | Chris falls asleep on Leon.

like father like son | 2,8k | Leon finds out he has a son.

monster magnet | 1,1k | Leon didn’t know when it had become something he recognized so easily. When had it become so normal for mutated creatures to look at him with such unadulterated lust.

please be okay | 620w | Leon faints from sheer exhaustion.

like father like... grandson? | 4,1k | Liam proposes to a girl but ends up with Piers anyway. Chris and Leon are the friendly neighborhood grandpas. Their grandson is adorable, and Leon thinks he takes after him. Obviously. (feat. Piers/OMC)

black lace | 790w | Chris gets to come home to Leon in thigh high black lacy stockings and matching lingerie, instantly sending Chris’ brains into an overdrive.

at least let me help | 790w | Leon opens the door an inch, Chris uses the given opportunity to slam it wide open. Metaphorically speaking.

bridal style | 200w | Leon refuses the medical check up. So Chris carries him.

dance with me | 1,0k | Wedding planning with two schmoopy idiots in love.

drunken cravings | 480w | Chris and Leon are drunk, hungry, and incapable of cooking.

blow me | 650w | Chris gets his brains sucked out through his dick.

Claire knows best | 610w | Chris tries to set Leon up with Claire. Then Claire does set Leon up with Chris.

chase the demons away | 940w | Chris struggles with nightmares, Leon is there to hold him through them.

dance me to the end of love | 550w | Leon struggles to learn to dance.

Piers/Leon, Chris/Leon

fate changed (we keep loving as if the story isn't over yet) | 34,3k | In hindsight, Leon knew the second he opened the door and saw Chris standing there, dressed in his service uniform, mouth pinched to a grim line and unable to meet Leon’s gaze straight. There was only one logical reason for it, only one way to explain why he was standing there like he would rather be anywhere else, and Leon almost slammed the door right in his face. -- Or the one wherein no one really knows how to handle their grief, but somehow life goes on anyway. (I’m still so proud of this one negl)

Chris/Leon/Krauser

hearts beating fast (let's make this moment last) | 5,7k | Chris gets invited in for a threesome. The clever thing would’ve been to refuse, knowing his unrequited, helpless feelings. But then again, he’s just a man.

OT3

double the fun | 3,1k | Truthfully, Leon hadn’t thought his day could get this much better. Everything had gone wrong from the second he’d woken up and he’d already written the day off entirely, until the moment Chris had looked him dead in the eye and asked “How do you feel about two at once?”

of cuddles and blanket forts | 620w | Piers and Leon build a blanket fort. Chris would think they’re idiots, but they might actually be kind of brilliant.

hair straightener or waffle iron? | 310w | Chris and Piers break Leon’s hair straightener.

the last piece of the puzzle | 2,7k | The one wherein two becomes three.

not alone | 2,3k | Completely on accident, Piers and Chris happen to be there to save Leon from a tight spot. Cuddles ensue.

Krauser/Leon

drive me crazy (your eyes made me crave for this) | 2,3k | It was the best sex Krauser had ever had in his life. That’s why he kept coming back to Leon, kept saying ‘yes’ every single time the man as much as hinted that he might be up for meeting. He was getting off, and he was enjoying every second of it, and that was the extent of it. There certainly weren’t any feelings involved. None. None at all.

enjoying the view | 200w | Krauser likes ass-watching.

carry me to bed | 440w | Slowly Leon was coming back to his senses. Sweat was cooling on his skin, the hard surface of the table underneath him starting to feel uncomfortable.

and I lied that we would be fine | 1,1k | Leon knows he isn’t supposed to be doing this. There’s a vague recollection of something more important, something he should be focusing on, but the vast majority of his world has narrowed down onto the slick slide of their bodies, on the cheap scratchy sheets on his skin, on the sound of Krauser’s voice in his ear, and he can’t bring himself to care.

yet never enough | 1,9k | Krauser likes mirrors.

of wanting | 400w | Leon’s laughter echoed in the room as Krauser pinned him against the wall, before shutting him up with a ravenous kiss.

better with you | 590w | Despite knowing Krauser had his back, Leon was genuinely surprised when the man sat down right next to him instead of telling him to suck it up and get moving.

breakfast | 530w | Lately things had slowly begun to shift. And Leon wasn’t sure yet what was going on. Or how he felt about it.

kill me now | 900w | It was more than clear how much Krauser enjoyed their frantic attempts to kill one another, and Leon’s traitorous body shivered in response, the memory of times long gone returning like no time had passed at all.

lust that I've already spilled | 1,4k | “C’mon, Leon,” Krauser taunted, grinning as widened his stance. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

will you just look at me | 650w | Krauser refuses to do feelings.

Wesker/Chris

I am the light that shall lead you to darkness | 1,8k | In all honesty, Chris wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here: a panting mess, bent over a massive wooden table with Wesker holding him down laughably easily.

the light to drown in darkness | 2,0k | Wesker craves Chris. So Wesker takes Chris.

love-hate-(obsession?) | 470w | Wesker is a lovesick fool. If he wasn’t also a homicidal maniac, Jill would almost feel sorry for him.

#the old guard #resident evil #kaysanova #chreon #metaltango #nivannedy #chrisker #kreon #idk what i'm forgetting it's 2 am and i've spent seven hours on this #have pity on me :'D #my fics #2020 #this was so much work #i am praying for the links to work properly #so i don't need to touch this again nnhhh

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fictoromanticism · 3 years ago

Note

Hey guys I love your blog so much, I hope you're doing great!

There's something that's been happening to me since forever and I'm curious whether I'm the only one.

I personally like reading headcanons and fics of my f/os. It validates how I see my f/o so much whenever they write them similarly to how I think of them. I obviously don't mind when that's not the case with harmless aspects of the character. However, when I come across a VERY upsetting, triggering interpretation of them (e.g. abusive) it's hard for me not to have my day ruined.

People are free to write their own interpretation of the character but I have yet to find a way for me to stay completely unaffected whenever that interpretation is the complete opposite of how I see my f/o.

I try to always look at the warnings and not interact with the ones that will upset me, I have blocked accounts but no matter how careful I am it always seems like these stuff will find me as long as I browse the tags (some people don't even tag their stuff correctly 😑)

A good example of this is when my main f/o was Risotto from JJBA and a huge amount of stuff about him were fics with really weird, repulsive explicit stuff and abusive behaviors. There was one fic that didn't have the appropriate warnings, started out fine but the last three paragraphs...that terrible trope happened where the character feels like they should tell their love interest the most vile, worst thing possible for their lover to hate them and leave them. And I remember how I wanted to bang my head into a wall💞 It was bad because I had started to get invested and let my guard down. Long story short, all the Risotto fics kind of distorted my image of him bc in my head at the time it felt like "if they write him like that then maybe this is how he is..."

Do you happen to have any advice on how to stay unaffected when this happens and separate my image of my f/o from the other interpretations? Is this something that happens to other people too as far as you know?

I'm really sorry if this was too long or tmi, feel free to ignore if you don't have the time or energy, thank you for everything that you do!💞💞💞💞💞

hi, anon! first of all, i want to tell you that you're not at all alone. during my time online, i've unfortunately come across things like this very often for a number of f/os, and it really is very upsetting and difficult to deal with. like you, i try to stay clear of it, but depending on the character and fanon interpretations that can sometimes be difficult. this is something my friends have had to deal with, too, unfortunately.

first of all, if you're experiencing a posttraumatic trigger, it's a great idea to immediately try to ground yourself before worrying about refuting the content of the post. count five things you can see, four you can hear, three you can feel, two you can smell, and one you can taste - or simply start naming things you can attribute to those senses in your environment. this can reduce the alarm and sense of being displaced or "back" that comes with a flashback, and allow you to deal with the situation a bit better. (you may already know this, but i feel it's important to state.)

after that, you can focus on how to refute the content of the post. having a personal collection of content you do like of your F/O, that feels IC to you, is a great idea, because you can browse through that to be affirmed. i also like to talk to my close friends about what i've read, usually in the vein of "this is so ridiculous! how could they think this about my f/o?!". usually my friends agree completely, and discussing our shared interpretation of the "real" character can be helpful in shaking it off.

i hope this helps you out, anon! it's very frustrating to see these upsetting things, especially when people don't use the tagging system conscientiously.

- mod moon

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pagingevilspawn · 4 years ago

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Would you please write a fic about alex and jo help their daughter with her homework, they would be kinds cute help them study

cross my heart, hope to die, please stick this pencil in my eye

there’s a reason this took me forever. reason number one, two, and three; proofs. i was unable to write this because of proofs. i got this ask and LIKE A CHILD decided that i wanted to make my fictional characters suffer as much as i did. so once i was done with proofs, i had to write something about proofs, which made me exhausted because i hate even talking about proofs

that made no sense, but here’s this thing that i made. lots of it was my real life monologue, screaming at my computer bc of fucking proofs. enjoy. (also, let’s appreciate the fact that i updated three whole days in a row)

(also, another installment of the “payton loves evan peters too much” series, where i name jolex babies after his AHS characters)

Alex Karev sat in the drivers side of his SUV, making a right onto the upcoming street as he listened to the song playing on the radio. He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel absentmindedly, pulling up to the curbside of James Madison Middle School, waiting patiently in his seat until he heard the five minute warning bell ring.

When the loud bell goes off, he exits the car and makes his way to the other side, learning against the door so his kids would know it was him. Too many parent’s owned black range rovers, and the last thing Alex needed was for either one of his kids to climb into the back seat of some stranger's car.

He didn’t need to wait long for children to start piling out of the school in large crowds. Middle school was so different from elementary, for his kids at least. He remembers when they would come sprinting out of the building as if their lives depended on it, but now they just casually strolled, no matter how much they liked or disliked school.

A few minutes later he catches sight of his daughter, who’s eyes light up when she sees him. He wasn’t supposed to pick them up today, the nanny was. But he had gotten off of work early and had insisted with Jo that he be the one to pick up the kids. It was a task he wished he got to do more often.

“Hey.” his daughter greets him with a smile on her face. He steps aside and lets her enter the side door, where she flops her black backpack on the floor and settles into the seat, pulling out her phone and begins to start scrolling through it.

“Dad!” he hears another voice exclaim, quickly tracing it to his son, who was currently running to the car, backpack bouncing up and down behind him. The sixth grader moved across the property quickly, greeting his dad with a fist bump before sliding into the back seat.

He closes both of his kids doors before making his way into the driver's side, revving up the car’s engine before he drives down the long block, whatever music his daughter decided on playing through the radio.

Alex winces when the music begins to blare through the car, “Brynn, turn that crap down would you?”

Brynn’s face looks scandalized. “It’s not crap. It’s art.” she emphasizes, turning it up even louder and screaming the words. (Poor Brynn couldn’t sing, and she knew it)

“I came in like a wreeckingggg ballll I never hit so harddd in loveeee all i wanted was to break your walls all you ever did wre-e-e-ck meee.” she yells, using her phone as a microphone, hair flying around wildly as she moved up and down, side to side in her seat.

Alex rolls his eyes, unable to hide the smile on his lips. His wife and daughter were too much alike sometimes. He turns the knob himself, sending his daughter a look, silently telling her not to do it again.

“I think it’s crap. Just like how I think you sound like a dying cat whenever you sing.” his son pipes in from the back, a signature Karev smirk plastered on his lips as he keeps his gaze locked on his phone.

“Shut up Rory,” she sneers, “Nobody likes you.”

Rory fakes a laugh, looking back to his phone, and then to the scenery outside his window. They passed house after house until they finally reached their destination, John Quincy Adams Elementary School.

“Wait here,” Alex instructs the two kids, who murmurs their we know’s, more focused on the devices in their hand to the words coming out of his mouth.

He makes his way to the ‘log cabin’ that sat at the front of the school, giving a friendly smile to the woman sitting at the sign out table, a crappy fold out plastic table that had definitely seen better days. “Faye and Bridgette Karev.”

The woman slides the forms across the table, handing him a pen. “Sign here and here. I’ll go get them right now.” She stands up from her seat and heads inside to tell the two girls that their father had arrived.

Alex sprawls his messy signature onto the page, huffing before leaning up against the gate. His girls could take anywhere from thirty seconds to five minutes to pack up their things. Luckily today didn’t seem to be the latter, because before he knew it, the two youngest Karev’s came bouncing towards him.

“Daddy!” “Daddy!”

The seven year olds gave him a large hug, showing him matching toothless smiles. When Jo and him found out that she was pregnant for a third time, they were overjoyed. They had always wanted more than two kids, but hadn’t really been actively trying. They were excited to expand their family of four into a family of five. When they discovered that she was not carrying not one, but two babies, they were shocked. Jo wasn’t expecting to get pregnant at thirty-nine, much less with twins. Brynn was seven at the time, and Rory was five, so they were worried about how their kids would react when they found out two new babies would be joining the Karev household.

Rory --surprisingly-- took the news really well. He was excited with the fact that he could have baby brothers. (Oh well. Alex Karev only seemed to make girls, Rory being the one exception.)

Brynn was a bit more reluctant. She had heard from her friends at school how much babies cried and stole all the attention. She loved both her parent’s equally, but she was a Daddy’s girl through and through. The thought of losing both of her parent’s focus was terrifying. What if her Daddy called her new siblings names like Bug or Princess? Those were her names, and her names only. She couldn’t let the new babies steal her names.

It took a while, but after multiple long talks and countless acts of reassurance, but Brynn eventually came around to the idea. Before they knew it, Brynn was just as excited for the upcoming babies as they were. Jo was worried throughout her whole pregnancy. Since she was almost forty, she was now considered to have a geriatric pregnancy. Just the word ‘geriatric’ did nothing to soothe any woman’s nerves, but add that to the fact that Jo was a surgeon and knew all the risks of pregnancy, and she was practically a mess the first few months. As it turned out, the twins ended up being her easiest pregnancy, since Brynn decided to make her entrance into the world four weeks early and while she was carrying Rory she had the occasional spotting that terrified her to her core every time, worried that she was miscarrying.

The twins ended up being born at thirty-five weeks, perfectly healthy. The only thing that gave Jo any trouble at all was the severe morning sickness, which turned out to be all day sickness.

But in the end it was way more than worth it. Faye was pretty much Jo reincarnated, just like Brynn. Every aspect about her was exactly like her mom. Her hair, her eyes, her face shape, chin. The only thing that she inherited was the Karev crooked grin, which all of their children had. (She didn’t even have a big Karev head when she was born!)

Bridgette on the other hand, was all Alex, except for the eye color. Between her potty mouth, sassy attitude, and overall appearance, she was the female mini evil-spawn.

The Evil Spawn Jr, title belonged to Rory, who was basically the male version of Bridgette. Same spunk, same mischievous smirk. Jo was always telling him that she didn’t know what she did to deserve three devil’s in her house. Alex always found that one really funny.

“You guys got everything?” he questions the two, who nod their heads up and down enthusiastically, skipping to the car and greeting their siblings.

He drives the twenty-five minutes back to his house, the twins chattering about in the back seat.

“And then Julie showed her her math problems, and I tried to tell her they were wrong, but she just wouldn’t listen!”

“Tommy was sooo annoying. I kept telling him to stop making noises with his pencil, but he just rolled it back and forth so many times!”

Alex laughs under his breath, listening partially to the twins’s conversation. They sounded exactly like how Cristina and Mer used to rant about completely different things to each other, so it never failed to make him think back to the ‘olden days’ as he and Meredith liked to call them.

If someone were to tell cocky, intern Alex that he would be happily married to the love of his life for (legally) fifteen years, father of four kids, and lived in a house that literally had a white picket fence on the outside of it, he would’ve sent them to a long term psychiatric care facility, because there was no way he would ever have that life. (A life he always secretly wanted, tucked into the very tiniest corner of his brain so it could never venture farther than a fleeting thought here or there).

“--We’re here,” he calls out, shutting off the engine as he parks in the driveway, the kids unbuckling their seatbelts and scrambling out of the car, eager to escape the confines of the vehicle and enjoy the peace of their rooms.

Once all five were inside, he watched as the four children parted ways. “Faye, Bridge, you have thirty minutes of reading down here. Ror, you have that history test you need to study for, and Brynn, you know what you need to do.” he says, his two oldest tromping up the stairs as the twins take their place in the living room on separate seats, already engrossed in the books they needed to read as part of their daily homework assignments.

Alex lets out a tired sigh as he flops onto the couch, more than tempted to grab the remote from the side table and flick on ESPN, but knew that he couldn’t. As much as the girls loved reading, they got distracted from books really easily. Loud horns, cheers, and buzzers wouldn’t be the way to go if he wanted any work to get done. Instead, he plucks the iPad from the coffee table, picking up where he left off that morning with an online medical article.

Before he knew it, Faye and Bridgette’s timer had rung out and they started on their math homework on the kitchen island, something that they finished with ease. Another trait Alex was grateful the children inherited from Jo, her smarts. (Specifically in math)

“Ugh!” he hears a loud exclaim from upstairs, causing him to look up from the device in his hands and glance towards the steps, half expecting an angry looking Brynn to come storming out at any moment. He huffs, focusing his attention back to the iPad in hand when no mini Jo comes down.

“No! There are no other ways!”

Another loud groan of frustration.

“Son of a butthead! There are NO more ways! None! I don't know how the frick to prove that the freakin angle is congruent!”

Alex debates ignoring it and letting his daughter figure it out on his own, that is until he hears something hit a wall. He quickly makes his way up the stairs and to Brynn’s bedroom, standing in the doorway for a few seconds, trying to observe the scene.

Brynn’s normally pristine room had books scattered on the ground, blankets thrown to the side, and an open notebooks posed at an awkward angle on the floor.

Well, at least he knew what hit the wall.

Brynn sat on her bed, literally glaring at her computer screen, partially debating whether or not to throw the expensive device across the room. She didn’t break eye contact, as if she was in a staring contest. Alex wanted to laugh, but he knew a deathly glare would be sent his way if he did.

He knocks on the wood door, sending a questioning glance Brynn’s way as she finally breaks her stare with the inanimate object. “Everything okay?”

The brunette huffs loudly, bouncing back onto the bed as she lets out a groan.

“I hate proofs.” she turns her head to look at her dad, Jo’s signature puppy dog face plastered on her features. He couldn’t help but chuckle. It was crazy how much Brynn looked like Jo. Add that onto the fact that she too shared a love for flannels and jeans, she was pretty much what he imagined a fourteen year old Jo to look like. When he first found out that Brynn was going to be a girl, he said to Jo, ‘I’m gonna need a gun.’

Luckily, that never happened, partially because of the fact that Alex hated guns and Brynn had yet to have a boyfriend. He was more than thankful for that. Especially since he’d seen couples at Brynn’s school canoodling in what they thought was private, even though they were in full view of everyone. He’d be fine with his not-so-little little girl dating when she was twenty-five, no earlier. Any man before that would not be very fortunate.

“I’ll help,” Alex says, taking a spot next to her and Brynn begins to show he dad the problems on her screen, going on about how she was struggling to figure it out.

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

____

Jo Karev was thrilled when Bailey offered to take over her service for the rest of the day. Her husband had gotten off early, and Bailey knew how much of a struggle it was to spend quality time with family as a surgeon.

She thanked Bailey so many times she lost count, all while boasting a large smile. She couldn’t remember the last time both she and Alex had been home before five o’clock. All she wanted was to go home, snuggle with her babies, and spend time with her husband. Well, her babies weren’t technically babies anymore, Brynn was fourteen, Rory was nearly twelve, and the twins were seven, but nevertheless, they would always be her babies. (Who cared if Rory was five foot three and already almost as tall as her? He was still such a mommy’s boy.)

She drove home with a smile on her face, humming along to the songs on the radio. She was so happy. She wanted to take her kids in her arms, and watch action movies on the couch while they pigged out on pizza together.

When she pulls up in the drive she practically bounces up the steps to the house, swinging open the door and dropping her coat carelessly onto the rack. She hadn’t texted Alex to let him know she was coming home early, in hopes to make it a joyful surprise.

Her heart stopped momentarily at the sound of yelling coming from upstairs. Arguments between Brynn and Alex were few and far between, but when they did happen, they were nasty. Alex always felt like crap for days afterward and Brynn stayed quiet, both at home and at school.

“Do the reflexive property again!”

“Dad we already did that!”

“Well do it again!”

“Why?!”

“Do you see any other way to do it?”

“How is that going to help!”

“It just is!”

“Dad, we've done the reflexive property five times now!”

“You think I don’t know that!”

“Say that segment DA is congruent to AD.”

“But-”

“There are literally no other fucking ways to do it! It’s fucking shit! Thats what it is!”

“You act as if I didn’t already freakin know that!”

A loud groan.

“What the fuck even is this one! We’ve managed to do three of them already. Try proving the triangles congruent now. Push random ones, like Side-Angle-Side.”

“This is crap! ‘You don’t have enough proof to show that the blah blah blah.’ Stupid freaking thing! Freaking worthless!”

Jo is unable to suppress her giggle, clasping a hand over her mouth, trying not to make too much noise. It was a relief to know that the current screaming match going on wasn’t an argument.

“They’ve been at that for an hour and a half now.” she hears her son pipe in, drawing her attention to where he sat on the couch.

Jo sets her bag down on the table, greeting her son with a large hug, “Hi bubs.” she mumbles into his hair, feeling his arms wrap back around her. In private, Rory was the biggest cuddler, touchy-feely person you’d ever met, but in front of his friends he tried way too hard to show he was ‘too cool’ for hugging his mom, so Jo took in these moments and held them close to her heart.

“An hour and a half huh?” she chuckles, running a hand through her son’s gelled hair.

Rory snickers, hazel eyes shining with mischief, “Yeah, dad won’t stop cursing and Tissy just keeps screaming alongside him,” he sits back onto the couch. “I’m surprised neither one of them had lost their voice yet.” he smirks his crooked Karev smirk, focusing his attention on the TV where he had opened up netflix, where he was currently binging Bates Motel. The name ‘Tissy’ came from when he was younger and couldn’t for the life of him say either Brynn nor Sissy. It seemed to have stuck all these years, and he was the only one who ever called his older sister that, even ten years later.

She sees him cringe, “I never called you mother right?” he asks, eyes not leaving the screen, where a certain Norman Bates is practically spooning his own mother in the bed, claiming that he couldn’t sleep.

Jo snorts, ruffling his hair fondly, “Definitely not. And if you ever do, you’re dead Ror, hear me?”

Rory rolls his eyes playfully, giving his mom a grin. “I won’t. Promise.”

Jo heads up the stairs, the loud yells continuing to echo through the halls, which she chooses to ignore.

“Dad for the fiftieth freaking time-”

“--What’s going on here?” Jo questions, causing both her husband and daughter to break away their concentration from the computer screen.

Brynn’s face lights up at the sight of her mom standing in the doorway, more than thankful to have someone who actually knew stuff help her with her math. “Mom!” she exclaims, getting up from her place on the bed to give her mother a hug.

“Hey baby. Care to explain to me why the second I walk through the door I'm greeted with screaming?” She questions, eyebrows raised as she sees Alex sheepishly avoid eye contact, suddenly finding the pictures that hung on the wall very interesting.

Brynn smirks, “Well, Dad sucks at math so-”

“--Hey!” Alex interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest. “I haven’t done this crap in like thirty years!” He defends himself.

Jo rolls her eyes and smiles of her own gracing her lips as she reaches the bed and takes a look at the problems on the computer. “Proofs?” she asks from confirmation, earning a nod from her husband and daughter.

She hums, “Given: segment CA bisects angle BAD and segment CA bisects BCD. Prove: triangle ABC is congruent to triangle ADC.” she murmurs to herself.

The brunette laughs when she sees the fact that the pair had put down some form of the ‘reflexive property’ not one, not two, but seven times.

She grins triumphantly as she remembers how to do the problem, the skills seemingly coming back to her after years of them being dormant. “Next statement is angle BCA is congruent to DCA because…” she scrolls through the possible options the box provided, smirking when she found the right one. “An angle bisector divides an angle into two congruent angles.”

She watches as an angle pops up on the screen, only encouraging her to continue, “Then… angle DAC is congruent to angle BAC because an angle bisector divides an angle into two congruent angles.”

Another angle comes up.

“Finally,” she smirks, glancing to the side of for a brief second to take in the draw dropped stares of the two behind her. Brynn was a whiz at math like her mom, but proofs was something she’d been struggling with since they’d started learning them yesterday. Geometry was no joke. Her and her dad had already gotten almost all of the problems done, but it had taken so long to do a few measly problems that they’d lost track of just how long they'd been sitting in the room, arguing back and forth over different possibilities to try.

“Triangle ABC is congruent to triangle ADC, reason being Angle-Side-Angle.”

She grins, wiping her hands together as she hits the submit button, a large green check with a correct! floating on the screen, going over the ways to solve the problem.

Alex glares at her. He’d been working on these fucking proofs for so long now, and Jo just comes in and completes it in less than a minute?

“I hate you.” he gruffs, still glaring at both his wife and the computer.

Jo giggles, leaning over and pecking her husband’s lips. “Love you too.”

She begins to walk out of the room, stopping and calling out over her shoulder as she reaches the doorway, “Now you just need to make sure the twins did their homework!”

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mallowstep · 3 years ago

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I wanna hear about the PO3 au's the anon left out! skyclan, loner, po5. Im guessing loner is Crow/Leaf raising the 3 outside of the clans. I love hearing you talk about your au's!

aww thanks! okay, same plan as before, details below the cut.

skyclan po3: it's, uh, pretty on the nose. crow and leaf run to skyclan with their kits.

loner po3: this is a catch-all term for three aus with similar premises, but i don't have a clear/short title to differentiate them. one is leafcrow, one is mothpool, and one is just leafpool. i'll talk about each of them.

po5: this is my internal name for the jaywing au. this, if you don't remember (and why would you), is a bit of a parallel to the dovefeather/med cat dovewing au where jaykit and dovekit are siblings.

skyclan po3: "they move on tracks of never-ending light" (title song)

the au title for this in my notes was "whitewater," but i think i'm going to save something else for that. (if you're confused why i have two titles for all of the aus: when i make a big au, it usually gets a temporary title that's short and easy to search, but i replace it with a permanent title later. sometimes they stay the same, like ashes, but usually i change it.)

so my only notes on this is

crowfeather and leafpool make it all the way to skyclan with a trio of newborn kits.

and like yeah, that's basically all i've figured out.

uhhh i know skyclan will come to the lake sooner, obviously, and i know that jay's character arc plays out really differently because there's less ableism.

(even in the windclan au, jay is intertwined with ableism: in that case, it's "either you're the same, or you're not capable." but leafstar is a sensible leader who doesn't have that problem.)

otherwise, yeah, i don't really know where i'm going with this, other than i think it'll be fun to explore, since leafpool is firestar's daughter and named after leafstar.

loner po3: the common thread in all of these is what happens to thunderclan's medicine cat after leafpool leaves?

(tbf, that's a common question in quite a few aus. but it makes itself a central conflict in these three.)

loner po3 I: leafcrow. "on and on we run in loops"

uh, yeah. they run away, and stay away. this one isn't supposed to focus on the kits that much, but rather, leafpool's struggle with duty and desire.

i've got this:

“There’s a loner,” the kittypet said, her voice languid, claws extended, but with an air of ease, “named Leaf. She’s been helping out loners for, oh, a season or two.”

as a quote from it. it's my least favorite of the loner po3 aus.

loner po3 II: single mom leafpool. "between us, i'd trade you for them every time"

i've talked about this one actually quite a bit, but it's probably going to take me a while to write it. it's inspired by "butterflies and hurricanes," but instead of leafpool dying, crowfeather dies.

also, the chapter titles come from "marjorie" which is basically 90% of why it's going to take me a while to work on it, that song makes me cry a lot and uh, things are a lil Much right now.

i've got a few scenes sketched out, from holly running away, and leafpool panicking, to leafpool worrying about bringing her kits to thunderclan.

loner po3 III: mothpool. "to make a choice in all this mess"

this is the au competing with divided po3 for next po3 au to write, and i'm...i love it. (as a note, i won't write two aus for the same time period at the same time. that's why i was waiting to finish wfmisus before i got back on doahins. now it's all messy. but i get confused lmao.)

anyway, i have the least written for this, but i'm very excited. in my first warriors fic ever, "if you love me any, let me know it now", leafpool thinks this:

(Leafpool should have left. She should have found Mothwing and told her and left. Maybe pause to say goodbye to Squirrelflight. Mothwing would have gone with her, and things would be alright. Not like they are now, all tangled and impossible.)

and well. i'm weak.

i don't have a ton of concrete stuff to say about it, especially considering it's so high on the list, but i mean, i'm excited.

po5: "wing and feather"

alright, this is an old one. since it's also high on my list, i want to explain where it came from rather than what it's about, because that will cover what it's about in a broad sense, without tempting me to give away the details.

(also, w&f is a working title. much like "feather take flight," i may change my mind.)

anyway. i started getting into warriors with "cloudtail's daughter," an au where dovewing and ivypool are brightheart's kits.

in a post so old i had to go to my main blog to find it, i said this:

i also want him to be dovewing’s brother. but the au where brightheart gives birth to dovekit, anxiety child, and jaykit, blind, and feels like a failure despite the fact that its not like her half-blindness is genetic, is not this au. that is another au.

and the seeds were planted.

so right, i'm writing up ctd around when i'm first reading "flightless dove, poison ivy," which will go on to inspire dovefeather (med cat dovewing au, but as you'll see, dovefeather is the assigned working au name. after i decided i didn't like feather take flight, i reverted back to its initial working title, dovefeather.)

so i've got these two things rolling around in my brain.

dovefeather comes first, because i reread fdpi so many times and i just. i want dovepaw to stay in riverclan. i don't want her to leave. i want her to be happy. (also please! i'm still finishing ch 2 of fdpi no spoilers it's taking me embarassingly long to finish.)

but anyway, consider this a bonus au talk because explaining what po5 is, imo, requires me explaining what dovefeather is. like, in an au talk scenario. they're unrelated aus, from a reader perspective.

so i come up with this list of "things i want to be different in oots":

dovewing should be cloudtail's daughter

dovewing and jayfeather should be siblings

dovewing should be a medicine cat

dovewing should go to riverclan

ivypool should be the fourth cat (but i'm not revealing which aus this applies to bc big time spoilers)

and this creates a bit of an au matrix. pick and choose, you know? ctd is (1).

dovefeather is (3) and (4).

but i still wanted (2), and so it seemed pretty natural to make a (1), (2), and (3) au.

but that's a retrospective analysis, what really happens is, i get like fourteen "what ifs" deep, until i'm writing fic for my fic for someone else's fic. kind of.

dovefeather diverges pretty sharply from fdpi, especially based on what i've read of ch2. it takes the same core idea, and because my idea of riverclan was inspired by fdpi, there are plenty of similarities, but i think it's functionally very different, and superficially similar.

(also, hollowflight ends up in a completely different trio lmao dovepaw hangs out with rushpaw, troutpaw, and mossypaw.)

but anyway, i'm trying not to write another au of the same time period, but i just finished writing out the full outline for ashes, and the next chapter (i.e., ch 12, which i'm hopefully posting today if all goes well) gets me thinking, and i can't let it go: i want (2) to happen.

so i look at my outline for dovefeather, because the rule is, it has to be very different from this.

since dovefeather is like 70% drafted (altho that number seems low, because i suspect i'm going to end up adding a lot into the fourth chapter), i now know that was never going to be an issue, but at the time, i was very worried.

so i was like! well, that means i'm going to fuck with every part of po3, and we're going to get ivypaw and hollypaw roped in, and jaypaw is always going to be a warrior, and i think i made squilf his mentor? or maybe sandstorm lmao.

either way, it ended up being defined by jaypaw, which i didn't initially plan on. but that's po5: squilf's litter lionkit, hollykit, ivykit & brightheart's litter dovekit and jaykit grow up together.

it's got a similar vibe to ashes IMO.

okay wow that ended up being a lot i've been hyperfocusing on dovefeather all weekend, and in my head, it's inextricably linked to ashes, ctd, and jaywing/po5, so uh. yeah.

hope this was what you were looking for?

#ask #anon #talk #au talk #mine #txt #dovefeather #jaywing #po5 #au drop

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igarbagecannoteven · 3 years ago

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I'm just gonna throw in random numbers, so: 2, 3, 9, 13, 16, 20? 🧡

thank you so much for the ask aria! :)))

2. Do you focus on attention to detail when you read fics? Are you more or less attention to detail focused when you write fics? When i'm reading fic i think that kinda depends on the fic in question, like if it's something that's longer that i've reread multiple times than i'm more detail focused than on shorter, lighter works, but even then i would say not really? i tend to be extremely detail oriented when writing fics and when i do critique groups, but i try to turn off that part of my brain when reading fic bc i'm doing it to enjoy myself not pick the work apart if that makes sense.

3. Do you have any WIPs? How far along are you with them? do i have any wips? uhhh *peeks into my fic folder that has over 20 wips* you could say that lol, altho most of them will probably never see the light of day. i've been working a long fic since february but that probably isn't going to be ready until at least 2022 if it ever gets finished in the first place, but there are two oneshots that i'm hoping will be ready by the end of this summer, altho it's kinda hard to tell. i rewrite every fic at least three times before i feel like it's ready so i never know how long something is going to take me. maybe they'll be done this month, maybe they'll never be done who tf knows.

9. Are there any fics you'd love to see but don't want to write yourself? What are they? i LOVE long songfics that touch on every lyric an unhealthy amount but am also pretty bad at long fics so there are many ideas that i'd love to read but would never be able to write. i've always thought that a getaway car fic with conmen and/or spies could be sooo good but i have no idea how it would be plotted. if anyone knows how they would write it,,, 👀

13. Do you prefer writing multi-chapter fics or single-part fics? Do you prefer reading multichapter or single-part fics? i think my strength lies more in one-shots, altho i love plotting and coming up with ideas for longer works. i have yet to finish anything longer than 4k so there really isn't a payoff with longer fics bc they just end up decomposing in draft form on my hard drive lol. i much prefer reading longer/multichapter works just bc it tends to serve the kinds of stories i like more, altho that's not to say i don't enjoy a good oneshot!

16. Do you stick to canon when you write characters and fics? with 5sos fic i much prefer writing in au bc it offers an extra layer of seperation btwn the characters and the actual band members, altho i am not apposed to writing non-au fics. when i tried writing hp fic i did stick to canon, insofar as i never contradicted what was directly in the text. (i happily contradicted 'word of god' and cursed child, but that's different lol)

20. Which fic have you put the most work into? Which fic have you put the least work into? I definitely put the least amount of work into my mashton driving drabble as i basically posted the first draft, but i think for the most work it's between superhero au or canoeing malum. it took me a long time to figure out how calum would react to seeing someone die for the first time in the superhero au and i went through many drafts to get the tone right. canoeing malum was originally in the reverse order (they started with the snails at the dock and then went to the beach by the river) but i ended up having to switch it to get the ending right. that also took me a long time to figure out what the plot was as i'd never written a story without a clear conflict before!

#i am once again incapable of answering anything concisely #ksjflkdjs #tbh i don't think i really understood question 2 so i just answered it the way i interpreted it so uh sorry if it doesn't make sense #answering mail #ask games #aria

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cuppasunu · 3 years ago

Text

fic writer tag

thank you for the tag @bbangsoonie <33

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

nct and the boyz

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

the boyz

3. how long have you been writing?

since 2018

4. on which platforms do you post your stories

ao3 and tumblr

5. what is your favorite genre to write?

angst/exes to lovers

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

planner definitely! i stay with my wips for a long time.. that way i can really focus on the backstory and the details of each story (and how it makes sense within its own world and how it connects with other fics).

7. one-shot or multi-chapter?

multi-chapter. even if it’s a oneshot, i still connect it to other oneshots !! i feel like when i write oneshots.. i end up making up a whole universe around it or it often feels too short, too unfinished for me. so even if it takes me four months (cough by fate cough) i will see it till the end of time :)

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

when it comes to chapters that i write for my series, i feel like when i hit the 1-2k word count, it’s a complete chapter. these days i love adding details and descriptions so .. it reaches 4-5k 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

9. what is your longest published story?

by fate (27k words + not counting my outlines and unpublished drafts)

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

i always talk about my series (once more, by fate, and an upcoming one, see me in a crown) and ofc those are my babies bc i spend months with them.. but my favorite is come to you like spring. it’s my comfort fic. always a rr for me. ❤️

11. favorite request you’ve written and why?

i rarely have requests because i have not opened them in like a half a year </3 BUT my favorite one is definitely fall for you. it’s a short and sweet jeno fic!

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

exchanging handwritten notes, misunderstandings, talking over coffee, drunken confessions

13. current number of wips?

one active wip, at least 15 wip ideas

14. three things you have noticed about your writing?

i have subconsciously connected my stories somehow—that means in every story, the other members you see also has a story of their own and more often than not, i take that as a fic idea :)

whenever i rr my stories, i remember what i was doing during the time i was writing it because of the influences i had while crafting the plot

i take your guys’ feedback to heart a lot. and i think it’s a good thing (esp bc i don’t really get hate—if i did i would delete them anyway lol) but what i meant is that, you guys kind of write these stories with me. the different interpretations you have in my stories influence the way i write the endings and climaxes. seeing your reactions after that is so satisfying so i love doing it.

15. a quote you like from a published story?

i have two because i can’t choose :)

“perhaps, the same attribute that made it so beautiful is the same reason that made it so fragile.”

“Love me, anyway. A thousand times, a million times—love me,” you repeated, “Stop giving me a taste of what we could be if you’re just going to leave me all over again-”

16. a quote from an unpublished story?

“For once, all the attention was not on him, and sometimes, that’s all that he asks for.”

17. space for you to say something to your readers~

i will never get tired of letting you know how much i love you all. thank you for making this blog, making my dream come true. ❤️ (also pls join my taglist and rb my fics coming up mwahh)

tagging: @experimentalwrites @sunamayo @jonghos-left-airpod

#tag games #just writer things #kyu speaks

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anotherkpopvictim · 4 years ago

Text

Heated Love - NamJinGi A/B/O Drabble

(Pic edit by me)

A/N: Soooo, I was trying to figure out what pairing or relationship to write about next, and I thought, why not make a kind of companion fic (to The Scents Of Us - Hoseok X Jungkook X Jimin X Taehyung) with the other three members? You don’t have to have read that one for this one to make sense, though.

This one does not have littlespace like the last one. I just felt like writing something a bit different, so here ya go!

And a very Happy Birthday to Mr. Kim Namjoon AKA our leader AKA our president <3

Relationship: Omega!Seokjin X Beta!Yoongi X Alpha!Namjoon

Rating: M

Words: 2641

Smut, fluff bc I’m me okay

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“No, no, stop!” Yoongi ordered, reaching over to press a button to cut the track. The group of four boys all looked up at him through the window in the recording booth with fear in their eyes. “These harmonies are what’s going to take this song to the next level. Minhyun, you need to focus more on your part, you keep getting distracted by the others. Yejun, I know that you’re not as comfortable singing as you are rapping, but I need you to be a little bit louder, a bit more confident. Siwoo and Sungjin, I need you two to sing just a tad bit quieter so I can really hear the balance in the harmonies.”

The kids - teenagers - nodded swiftly in understanding, anxiety swimming in their eyes. Whether that was because of the pressure of singing perfectly or the unforgiving bluntness known of their producer was up for debate, but it was probably a mixture of both.

Yoongi knew he could come off as harsh and cold sometimes, but it was just that he took his job seriously and didn’t have any time for pointless goofing off or complaining.

The beta took a deep breath and gave the group still standing frightened in the booth a small smile, hoping to ease their obvious nerves. “Hey, you guys are doing a great job,” he said, voice softer than before. “Take ten minutes to yourselves and practice what I’ve just told you, then we’ll regroup and try recording again, alright? You guys are so close to finishing the song.”

The four boys all nodded once more, looking infinitely more relieved thanks to Yoongi’s kind words. Siwoo, the group’s leader smiled back and said, “Thank you, Yoongi-ssi. We’ll work hard!”

Just as the beta left them to their own devices, sitting back in his own chair and taking a sip of his now lukewarm coffee, there was a hasty knock on his studio door.

Yoongi’s eyebrow rose in surprise. Everyone at the company knew not to bother him with anything while he was in session with a group, not unless it was important.

The beta hurried to open the door and was greeted immediately by his alpha boyfriend and the familiar scent of sandalwood. The sight of him at his studio when he should have been working caused Yoongi’s heart to sink to his stomach in fear.

“Joonie,” Yoongi began, “Is everything okay? Why are you here?”

Before his thoughts could start running wild about what could be going on, Namjoon cut him off. “Hyung, everything’s fine,” he reassured with a smile, “Jin-hyung’s just started his heat early.”

Yoongi let out a breath of relief. “Oh...oh!” he blinked, “But I thought he wasn’t supposed to have one for another few weeks yet?”

Namjoon nodded, but didn’t appear worried, “I think it’s the stress of the workload he’s had at the bakery lately that caused it to come so soon.”

“I told him to take it easy,” Yoongi grumbled, running his hands through his dark locks anxiously. “Taking on catering for five big events in two weeks is insane. Especially with the number of staff he has at the moment.”

The alpha hummed in agreement, “Well, you can tell him all about how right you were later. Right now, we have an omega at home who is on his way to being very angry at us for not being there.”

“Right.”

Yoongi told the four idols still waiting in the recording booth that they would have to pick up where they left off in a few days and gave them a couple more tips to improve their vocals in the meantime. After they’d all left, Yoongi slipped on his leather jacket, mask, and hat - all black, of course - and hurriedly followed Namjoon out of the company building.

“Jungkook and Hoseok-hyung are with Jin-hyung now,” Namjoon explained as he began driving through the city and towards their apartment. “Jin-hyung was feeling kind of strange and called them over to talk, thinking that it was an omega thing he’d never experienced before. When his heat hit, Hoseok-hyung called me to tell me what happened.”

“It usually takes a few days of preheat before his actual heat hits,” Yoongi frowned, “No wonder he was confused.”

Namjoon reached over and settled his hand easily on the beta’s thigh. “Hey, I looked it up already. I promise this is all common in early stress heats.”

Yoongi nodded, placing his hand over the alpha’s to give it a squeeze. “I know, I’m not doubting you. My head just...”

The alpha lifted Yoongi’s hand up to his lips to give it a quick kiss before settling their hands back on the beta’s thigh. “I know.”

Yoongi hated that his anxiety made him feel so crazy sometimes, so jumpy and filled his thoughts with the worst-case scenarios, but his boyfriends understood and never complained about it. He could always see the genuine honesty in their eyes when they told him that they loved him for him and everything that included.

The beta allowed his boyfriend’s familiar, calming scent of sandalwood to ease his worries and keep him grounded as they drove home.

When they arrived, they were greeted at the door by a slightly flushed and disheveled Jungkook who gave them a knowing smile. “He just started nesting a little while ago, Hobi-hyungie’s with him in the bedroom.”

Sure enough, when they entered the bedroom, they found their Seokjin working away at perfecting the nest he was building, adjusting the pile of blankets, pillows, and clothing to his liking. He had the most adorable concentrated pout on his face that his two boyfriends couldn’t help but sigh fondly at.

Hoseok was the first to see them, and he greeted them with a smile just like Jungkook had.

“How bad has it been?” Yoongi asked.

“Not too bad,” Hoseok replied with a shrug. “He was starting to get angry earlier when he remembered you guys weren’t here, but Jungkookie suggested that he start building a nest and it’s kept him busy ever since.”

Namjoon gave his friend a hug, “Thank you for looking after him. You guys are awesome.”

Hoseok grinned that infamous heart-shaped grin of his. “No problem Joon-ah, Yoongi-hyung. We love you guys, we’d do anything for you.”

“You guys, too,” Namjoon replied. “Say ‘hello’ to Jimin and Tae for us, alright? And dinner’s still on for next Friday so don’t forget it.”

“Aye aye, captain!” Hoseok saluted dramatically with a grin. “Don’t have too much fun, yeah?” The omega waggled his eyebrows teasingly before giving both Namjoon and Yoongi pats on the shoulders and departing from the room.

“There you two are!”

The alpha and beta both looked up with wide eyes at the familiar, angry tone. Seokjin had spotted them, it seemed, as he was glaring in their direction with his hands on his hips. His slightly overgrown chocolate locks fell into his eyes and he pushed it out of the way with a huff.

“I’ve been waiting for you for weeks!” the omega pouted. “Thanks for finally showing up, I guess.”

Namjoon went right towards him, arms outstretched. “Don’t be so dramatic, hyung. It’s only been a few hours.”

“Weeks!” the omega insisted stubbornly, whilst simultaneously throwing himself into Namjoon’s arms.

Yoongi sighed fondly and joined them at the bedside. “How are you feeling, hyung? Do you need a cool bath or anything yet?”

The omega’s demeanor changed in an instant as he turned in the alpha’s arms to bring Yoongi into a tight embrace. He wasted no time in nuzzling into the beta’s neck, making sure to leave his scent of strawberries and cream all over him and inhaling his soft scent of a rainy forest in turn.

“I’m okay right now,” Seokjin finally answered, remembering that he’d been asked a question. “Just want my mates.”

Namjoon curled around the omega from behind and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “We’re here now, hyung. And we’re not going anywhere.”

Seokjin nearly purred in contentment at being squished in a Namjoon-Yoongi sandwich. The feeling of being surrounded completely by his mates, in his own house, his own nest, it made his wolf feel utterly safe.

“You know what I do need?” the omega asked, a teasing smile on his face as he glanced at his mates.

“Hm, what?” Namjoon inquired.

“A good fuck.”

Yoongi groaned at the blunt words, his cock already tenting in his pants. “I think that can be arranged.”

The beta lifted both hands to cup the omega’s face and brought him in for a passionate kiss. Seokjin sighed happily and bit teasingly at Yoongi’s lower lip.

Namjoon watched as they continued to make out languidly, their tongues and lips tangling together lovingly. The alpha’s eyes flashed red with desire as his large hands began running up and down Seokjin’s sides. His fingers brushed the soft skin under the omega’s t-shirt (which Namjoon belatedly realized was actually his t-shirt) and felt pride bubble up inside him when Seokjin let out little breathy whines at the feeling. He pulled the shirt off completely, but apparently it wasn’t quite enough for the omega.

“Mm, get in my nest.” Seokjin pouted, “This is taking too long.”

The alpha huffed out a laugh, “We’ll get in, but after that, you’re not going to be making any more demands, sweetheart.”

Seokjin shivered at Namjoon’s deep voice in his ear and smirked. “Make me, alpha.”

There was a sudden flurry of movement and the omega found himself laid out in the center of his nest. Someone was on top of him, between his legs. He expected it to be Namjoon but was mildly surprised when he saw Yoongi looking down at him with a dark, lustful gaze.

Seokjin didn’t fight it when the beta grabbed his hands and lifted them above his head. “Keep them there,” Yoongi ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Namjoon sidled up beside the two of them, running his hands all over Jin’s torso, from the waistband of his sweatpants to his collarbones. “You’re in a bratty mood today,” he commented, sounding amused.

Yoongi was busy pulling down the omega’s pants and boxers that were getting close to becoming drenched in Seokjin’s slick. The beta tossed the garments over his shoulder nonchalantly, unable to care where they ended up.

“‘M always bratty,” Seokjin remarked with a prominent pout on his plush, pink lips.

The beta snorted, “Can’t argue with that.”

Seokjin opened his mouth once more, probably to make another sassy comeback, but his words turned into a loud moan as Yoongi plunged two fingers into his asshole without warning. It didn’t hurt, of course, because of the copious amounts of slick leaking out of him, but the sudden feeling of being filled with something caught the omega off guard. Not to mention that Yoongi easily found his prostate (thanks to years of getting to know Seokjin’s body) and thrust his long fingers mercilessly against it.

Taking advantage of the older’s opened mouth, Namjoon locked their lips together and growled at the arousal growing in his gut.

“Oh, fuck...” Jin groaned.

The beta looked up at his mates once the omega was thoroughly prepared and took in the delicious sight of them making out. He also noticed that Seokjin’s hands had stayed above his head the entire time, just as he’d asked.

“He’s ready for you, Joon-ah.” Yoongi announced, ignoring the displeased whine Seokjin let out when he removed his fingers from inside of him. “And he’s obviously desperate since he’s actually listening to us now. Give him a good knot to calm him down.”

“Yes, fuck!” the omega all but whimpered, “Give me your knot!”

Namjoon looked over at Yoongi, “You sure I can go first?”

The beta nodded, “I’ll get my turn with him later.”

So, Namjoon and Yoongi switched places, the beta pressing kisses to Seokjin’s lips and the alpha running his hands admiringly over the omega’s legs he now knelt between.

Belatedly realizing that they were still fully dressed, Namjoon nudged Yoongi and the two of them began to strip out of their clothing hastily. Seokjin enjoyed the show until the two of them were completely naked and Yoongi claimed his mouth once more.

Namjoon’s cock always stretched the omega so good and this time was no different. The alpha’s large, thick dick sliding into him gave him slight discomfort - despite the thorough fingering he’d received from Yoongi earlier - but it also felt oh so good.

Seokjin let out little whiny mewls into the beta’s mouth as he waited for his body to adjust. It only took half a minute, and once he felt he was ready, the omega wasted no time in circling his hips to get the alpha deeper.

“’M good, Joonie.” Seokjin assured. “Give me all you have.”

And, really, Namjoon didn’t need to hear it twice. He grabbed the omega’s hips in his hands and pulled back until just the tip of his cock was still inside of him, and then he thrust back in harshly.

The pace didn’t take long to pick up, Seokjin’s body rocking up and down with the force of the movements. “Oh, yeah, that’s it! Right there!” The omega nearly squealed when Namjoon moved his hands to his thighs and lifted him slightly off the bed, the new angle causing the alpha to thrust straight into Seokjin’s prostate.

Yoongi reveled in the heady smell of sandalwood and strawberries and rainy forest, the scent of safety and love. As the omega got closer to his orgasm and became more out of breath, Yoongi shifted his attention from Seokjin’s lips to his neck, where two mating bites sat proudly. He kissed and licked at Namjoon’s bite mark lovingly before moving slightly upwards to his own. His teeth found the healed-over mark and bit gently, just enough to cause the omega to lose it completely.

“Fuck,” Namjoon moaned, “Made him get so tight around me, Yoongi-hyung. Getting so close.”

The beta grinned and turned back to Seokjin, who looked stunning laid back in his nest, naked and sweaty, mouth parted and eyebrows pulled together in pleasure. “He’s almost there, Joon-ah.”

And he was right because within ten more thrusts directly to his prostate and the gentle sting over his bite mark, Seokjin came. He came loudly and all over himself, but he kept his hands held above his head, determined.

“Oh, shit!” the alpha hissed, his sandy blond hair wet with sweat and falling in his face. “Seokjin-hyung, that’s-”

Still riding on the wave of his high, Seokjin whimpered when he felt the alpha’s knot expanding inside of him until the two of them were locked together completely as Namjoon came.

Yoongi pushed the alpha’s hair off of his forehead with one hand and used the other to touch gently over his bite mark on Seokjin. The omega mewled and leaned into the touch easily as he came down from his high.

A few minutes passed in silence as they caught their breath and Yoongi gave them water.

“Love you guys,” Seokjin mumbled with a dazed grin. “Always make me feel so good.”

Yoongi leaned down to kiss him, this time more softly than earlier. Namjoon followed suit before flopping down on the other side of the omega. “Love you, too.”

“Love you,” Yoongi repeated with a gentle smile. “Now let’s cuddle while your heat is sated for a bit.”

Seokjin eagerly pulled Yoongi into his chest, allowing Namjoon access to give the beta a much-needed kiss on the lips.

“I want Yoongi-ah to fuck me next,” Seokjin announced, blunt as always.

The beta snorted as Namjoon huffed out a tired laugh, “I see you’re back to being bratty again.”

Seokjin shrugged, “I want what I want and I have no problem asking for it.”

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A/N: Well damn, that was a ride. I thought it would be interesting to write Seokjin as a bratty omega and I have to say I’m pretty happy with the result, but let me know what you think!

Also, I was planning on ending it here but if you want a second part where Yoongi fucks Seokjin then let me know!

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