#please don’t argue in the tags I am just curious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foone · 2 years

Note

Please don’t feel obligated to reply because this might be a touchy issue, but i see on one of your posts that you hate Hacker News. I just discovered HN a few months ago and have been enjoying it, but as a fellow trans person i’m curious if they’ve been transphobic or the like (based on the context of your comment) and if i should stay away

OKAY SO here's thing thing: as a reader, HN is... fine. They're not great. They have a history of sexism in what posts get boosted and a history of various shades of transphobia in the comments, but that's not particularly unusual as far as internet forums go. Reddit is much the same, for example.

My problems with HN are related to getting posted there. The way the site works when you're reading it and when you're getting posted there are very different. More explanation under the readmore since this got long. (warning: some talk of transphobia and doxxing)

The site is not avoidable. Back when I was still on twitter, getting posted on HN meant your notifications were useless for a week, because they are scraped by endless bots trying to farm for likes and reblogs, and every single one of them ends up tagging you. And even now when I'm off twitter, getting posted there means you still get informed that you've been posted there, by well-meaning people who know you hate it, or are just innocently commentating on how it's neat to see you on HN. Or hey, in the latest iteration, you find out because your askbox is now full of slurs (and not just the ones you'd expect!). Basically, it is impossible to be submitted to HN and not know about it.

And then it gets worse because it's now a known fact that I don't like being on HN. Meaning every time I AM on HN, it turns into a big debate in the comments about why I don't like HN, why I post the way I do, and people arguing with the explanation of my opinion. I'm not even there, and people are mad at the phantom of me for not doing things in the way they like.

Because how I post is part of what they always get mad at me about. I have severe ADHD: This is a well known fact about me, I post about it a lot. It means that I used to post on twitter a lot, because twitter was (at the time) one of the only sites I could post on at all: The way it makes you chop up your line of thinking into small chunks, each of which is small enough that I can focus on it. I've since managed to handle tumblr-posting, and I occasionally post on mastodon now, but for most of the time that I was posted on HN, I was posting this way, only on twitter, in long threads where I don't think much ahead or do editing/revisions BECAUSE I CAN'T.

And here's the thing about people who prefer more "traditional" geek news sites like HN: A lot of them are there because they hate the bite-size nature of sites like twitter and tiktok. And they are Not Happy with people submitting twitter threads to HN: They hate that kind of formatting of content, and announce that fact, loudly.

And then people in the comments point out that I have ADHD and can't post in the style they'd prefer (long well-edited blog posts), and then it turns into an argument there, often with people happily brining up their opinions on whether ADHD is "real" or things like that. Again, I'm getting argued about without being there to defend myself.

And this is where it gets transphobic, through the indirect route of sexism: Someone says something innocent but vaguely dickish like "well he should just hire someone to rewrite all his twitter posts as blog posts!" (like they think I am doing this as a job and can afford to pay an editor, rather than just some weirdo who rants because that's what they do). They assume I'm a man, because most of the people who get posted on HN (and especially the ones who get upvoted) are. They just assume everyone without an Obviously Female Name and a profile picture that's a photo of a smiling woman is male, and honestly they're probably right most of the time, because that's just how the gender balance on HN ends up working.

And then someone points out I use they/them pronouns, and it just goes to shit. You get people yelling that it's not their job to figure out the pronouns of everyone they're talking about, like it's a perfectly normal thing to just assume everyone is male, you get people arguing about how "he" used to be the gender neutral pronoun, you get people arguing that singular-they is ungrammatical, you get people taking offense at the very idea of they/them pronouns because "you can't force everyone to follow your religion" (as apparently either trans or non-binary is a religion now (well, I am a pope)), and then a bunch of "[post flagged]" and you can only speculate about how bad THOSE posts were, if so much other transphobia is still sitting in the comments, untouched by the supposed moderators who are supposed to delete it.

You get people calling you mentally ill, and then getting in arguments about how they mean YOU SPECIFICALLY for the crime of "wanting to not be posted on HN", and not all trans people. Because apparently the HN rules are fine with you saying "this specific trans person is mentally ill and should be locked up" as long as you don't imply that your statements also apply to trans people in general.

And then you get hate in your contact forms for days because people realize you're not active on the HN comments and need to bring the "fight" to you directly.

And frankly, this whole mess is made worse by the site's userbase treating it as a joke or something easily fixable. Like, aside from making my pronouns "obvious" (I'm not sure how, exactly? it's already in all my profiles) which wouldn't help, they want me to just move to a different site, one where I can easily block incoming links by their referrer? They always point to JWZ's blog as an example of this, but he's hosting his posts on his own site. He fundamentally is doing something very different than I am, and I really shouldn't have to CHANGE WHAT SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS I USE just because they're being a butt.

And treating it like a joke? oy vey! I once posted a rant on tumblr about WHY EXACTLY I don't like getting posted on HN, and guess what happened next? SOMEONE POSTED THAT THREAD ON HN.

They also have a history of getting mad at me for not wanting to be posted on HN, like it's prima-dona behavior or "egotistical". Like I should be just happy that my stuff got posted there, something that has only ever brought negative attention. I think maybe they assume I'm doing this as a job, and every time they link to my stuff, I make a bunch of money? That's not the case. I don't make any money from them. I don't have ads. This isn't my job. (Fun fact: I know at least one person who has their blog set up to show ads only when HN links to their content, and not otherwise)

I really don't know why they think it's egotistical of me to not want to get harassed, dismissed, and spammed by their site and their users. It's almost like they think it's me posting my content on HN myself, which I would never do because it doesn't aid me in any way. If I was making content for them, I would make sure it gets posted there. I'm not, so I don't. I post for the sites I post on. I could blog in a way they'd like and then post it to HN if I wanted to. I don't. I choose to tweet (in the past) or post on tumblr or post on mastodon, because I'm posting for those specific communities.

And the thing about it is that all these points are, to some extent, obvious. And people know them. Maybe not the people posting the most unthinking takes on HN, but others will point them out. So this just contributes to any HN thread on my posts turning into a big argument.

And there's always people going "WELL JUST DON'T READ THE POSTS ABOUT YOU" as if that's a reasonable option. first of all, I can't be ignorant about them, as mentioned before they kick down my door and go HEY FOONE YOU'RE ON HACKERNEWS. But more importantly, I'm trans. Do you know what happens if enough people get mad at you online? They start posting your home address, phone number, and pictures of your face and relatives. I have to stay at least SLIGHTLY aware of how the discussion on me is going, or I'll be completely surprised when someone shows up at my house with a gun. (This isn't hyperbole: I have gotten doxxed before because I made a twitter thread that got the wrong people a little too mad at me)

Anyway I've talked to the admins of the site and they have basically refused to do anything about it. They admit that they can block my posts from showing up on the site, but they don't want to because people enjoy my content. My wishes don't matter.

And anyway the epilogue is that this has mostly worked out by now. I stopped posting on twitter, not because HN was pushing me to a site where I could better control my post's reach, but because Elon destroyed it. I'm posting longer-form content now, not because my ADHD got better, but because years of training myself to write this way has made it so that I can handle writing as if I was on twitter-like sites, without the enforced restrictions of them.

And I have countermeasures against HN now. Offensive and defensive ones. I'm a little less likely to be posting Cool Tech Stuff here on tumblr now (because every time this happens it severely dampens my enthusiasm for the subject), but I'm a lot less worried that something I post will end up on HN now, as I have options. (I don't want to go into them because HN being HN, they might take preemptive counter-countermeasures to try to disarm them).

Anyway, tl;dr: it's okay if you like reading the site. my problems with it are with getting submitted there, not with reading it. As long as you don't submit my content there, that's 100% okay with me.

#hacker news #cw transphobia #cw doxxing

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fangbangerghoul · 8 months

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Header originally made by @thatsgoodsquishy0

Hello everyone! I am pleased to share a great event we had in our Comrade Coe's Spouses discord server for Valetine's Day!

This server is full of wonderful creatives who all share one thing in common, our love for Starfield. Okay...maybe two and our love for the bisexual single dad space cowboy! We love to support each other in our creative endeavors and to showcase this this post is going to have all the pieces from our Valetine's Day Art Trade!

Each person who signed up was randomly paired with another. We had a channel to fill out a small form of what they preferred, what they were willing to create, and their do's and don'ts in receiving other creations! We allowed about 8 weeks for people to discuss, plan, and create their own masterpieces!

Our server is always open for incoming members and there are only a few things that you need to know before requesting to join.

You must be over 21

You must love or at least appreciate Starfield

And you are joining for a good time, some creative vibes, and with an open mind!

Just tap or click on the link embedded in the server's name above for more information on how to join!

banner made by @bearlytolerant

Everything you will see below is crafted by a member of our server! There will be links to their Tumblr and ao3 links to check more of their work out!

Please feel free to show their blogs some love and their fics on ao3 as well! You can also check out their other works under the tag The Coemancer Crew. One of the core values of our community is supporting each other's creative pieces and we hope you all would love to participate in doing the same!

@atonalginger's

Anton x Sam Astral Haze

@thatsgoodsquishy0's

From Death; A Life

You almost died. Sam's grateful you're alive.

“Wait until Constellation hears about this,” you say, accompanied by a shaky laugh. “I wonder if they’ll even believe us.” He shakes his head. “They should, they don’t have to. We were there. We survived. You survived. That’s all that matters in my book.” His realism brings your gaze to the table, though a swirl of gratitude rises in the back of your mouth, coming out in a weak smile. This was nice. Peaceful, but not enough. There was still untouched territory to discuss. You lift your head, eyes soft and sincere. Unsure. “I wouldn’t be here without your help, Sam.” A pink flush spreads across his cheeks as he smiles. Averting his gaze, his pupils dart across the wall, and you notice they focus on nothing in particular. He shuts his eyes, and you suspected he was replaying the evening. You cock your head, curious. If you could pry open the contents of Sam Coe’s brain, you would, and you would soak up everything about that man, a fact you hadn’t truly believed until tonight.

@fangbangerghoul's

Crimson Slut

@bearlytolerant's

Paint It Crimson

Delgado is tired of Ghoul not resting so he takes matters into his own hands. His attempt means trying to teach her a new hobby.

She chuckles and he chooses not to engage any longer. He’s been toyed with enough. Even if that’s what they do. Argue and bicker. Pull their claws and bare their fangs until eventually he walks away with enough of his pride beaten down, dragging his ego behind him a little broken and worse for wear. It happens often enough that he can’t say he always comes out the winner. But he is weary of the game today. He wants to be nice. Try to be nice. He is determined to be nice. Another step and he reaches around her head and tugs at the blindfold. The knot unravels. Unfurls. He removes it in one smooth motion, tossing it to the floor. Then he thumbs her chin, tilting her head up to get a good glimpse of her. He gazes into her citrine eyes. The warm glow from his hanging lamp, hovering over the tall snake tongued leaves of the sansevieria in the corner of the room, reflects off her irises and they glimmer and shine just like a gemstone. Thoughts waxing poetic, he blinks them away before he speaks them aloud. “I wanted to surprise you.” He releases her chin.

@silurisanguine's

So coy

@eridanidreams's

Twisted Towards the Light

Seren and Sam run into a little bit more excitement than they expected when taking down Tawny Adams...

Sam leaned against the wall. "We having fun yet?" He was breathing a little harder than usual; she gave him a quick once-over, but his suit seemed intact. He caught her look and gave her the grin she'd come to love. "I know you like what you see," he purred, "but maybe look a little less like you want to rip my suit right off until we're done? Mercs might get the wrong idea." Seren couldn't help but laugh. "Arse," she growled. "And a fine one," he agreed. "Though yours," he eyed her up and down, "might be even finer. Pity that your suit hides it, or we could do a real close comparison. Hands-on, even." "Focus, Sam," she reminded him, hitting the 'cycle' button. "Bad guys that way." "I am focused," he said, sounding innocent as the day was long. (In the case of this misbegotten little moon, that was only 4.5 UT hours, so… not all that innocent.) "I'm just a busy man. I have to work in all that quality time of thinking about me and you."

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babycharmander · 2 years

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This is a thought I've had for a long while, and I'm finally getting around to writing it now. That thought is, to put it simply, this:

You are hurting more people by "calling out" properly warned-for art/writing (especially if it's not posted to major tags) that you find morally reprehensible, than would wind up getting hurt if that thing were just left alone.

This is not a “pro” or “anti” thing. I'm not here to argue what is or isn't morally reprehensible, or what should or shouldn't be allowed in fiction. That's not what this is about. (And if you bring up ANY of that in the replies or notes, I am removing those, because I do NOT want this post derailed.)

What this is about is how these attempts at helping people can very often wind up hurting those same people you are trying to protect.

Do you want to keep people away from violent art who don't want to see it? Cool, so do I. Do you want to make sure minors don't see smut? Great! We're in the same boat. Do you want to make sure trauma survivors aren't exposed to content that would potentially trigger them? Awesome! Same here!

So then please, please, please, if you encounter a fanwork that is labeled for something you find disgusting, something you want people protected from... do not take that content directly to those people who would be hurt by it.

Most people who don’t want to see these things already have them blocked. By making a post warning about this thing that was already tagged for, already warned for, screenshotting the content, sometimes posting the thing in its entirety, and then saying "this person posted this Bad Thing! You should avoid it, and tell everyone else to avoid it too!" you are, ironically, bringing it to the attention of people who would have already otherwise been able to avoid it, or who would have otherwise not even seen it at all. You are triggering people by showing them this thing you don't want them to see, or telling people where to find this thing that is harmful to them, and then encouraging them to tell everyone else.

You're discovering a well-labeled book about something repulsive, and then setting up a big, flashing sign pointing directly to that book (and sometimes opening the book to the gross part for all to see), and screaming over a megaphone, "HEY!! THIS BOOK HAS GROSS STUFF IN IT! YOU SHOULD AVOID IT! YOU SHOULD TELL ALL YOUR FRIENDS EXACTLY WHERE IT IS AND HOW GROSS IT IS AND HOW THEY SHOULD AVOID IT, TOO!"

Do you see the problem here?

I want to tell you a story: I'm old, and I've been on the internet for a long time, back when fics (other than ones on FFN) were harder to find. And I remember sometimes... you'd hear about certain Fics. You had to be looking for them to find them, and they were usually spoken of with horror and disgust. "Hey, have you seen that Fic? It's messed up."

I, a teenager at the time, heard about them once by pure chance. What actually happened in them was never described, but the sheer amount of weight put on them made me curious. So I looked one of them up. There were warnings on the page. I went past them and decided to see if this fic was really as bad as they said. It was worse. So, so much worse--I couldn't get far into the fic before I started feeling sick. It was not triggering for me, fortunately, but it wasn't good for me, either.

That was just from a fic being mentioned. It wasn't being broadcast to everyone or being asked to be spread around--it was just mentioned in a place where only a handful of people would see it.

Now, though, it's not just fics being whispered in forums and chatrooms with horror. Now these warnings are posted in big, bold letters and demanded to be spread around social media, to get as much of an audience as possible.

And now it's not just "this fanwork is messed up." Now it's "this fanwork is morally wrong!" Whether it is or is not morally wrong is not the point. The point is that the weight of morality causes a feeling of responsibility, which creates a desire to take action. The result of this is people feeling like they need to spread this to everyone, or even to go further, to view the content (and possibly more of its kind) themselves to verify just how bad it is... and in doing so, hurt themselves.

(As a side note, this can turn into a self-harm practice, with a person exposing themselves to content that hurts them, over and over again, and telling themselves that they’re doing it to help others. It’s a trap I’ve fallen into myself, albeit not with fandom, and it’s not something I would want anyone to go through.)

A lot of the people who wind up doing this are minors or trauma survivors--the ones that the probably-well-meaning people who made the original warning set out to protect in the first place. And they're the ones diving in and hurting themselves by viewing content they should not be exposed to, by viewing content that triggers flashbacks and panic attacks and worse, because they feel like they have to--they feel like they have a responsibility to do this to protect other people.

As a result, no one is protected.

Look... if you run across a fic or art that's not-SFW and/or has possibly triggering or harmful subject matter, and is NOT properly warned or tagged for those things, and it is posted in a place where people who should not see it would be exposed to it, then by all means, do something about it. Tell the person to properly tag the content. Report it if you can. Warn people that, "hey, there's something that's been posted to the tags that could hurt you, please block this tag or block this person to avoid it."

But if that content that you view as morally reprehensible or potentially harmful was already tagged, if it already has every needed warning, if it was posted to a private blog or personal website or some place out of the way where it wouldn't be stumbled across... how are you helping anyone by dragging it out for everyone to see?

If a pit of acid already has caution tape around it, warning signs, and everything else, then leave it alone, and stop surrounding it with blinking lights and arrows and putting up billboards and handing out fliers showing where the thing is.

Someone who otherwise wouldn't go anywhere near it is going to wind up jumping in to see if it's real.

#negative nonsense #(if this needs any other tags please let me know)#cw self harm mention #i'm sorry i had to get this off my chest #please please PLEASE do not expose yourself or other people to content that you think is harmful!!!#it is extremely upsetting to see people hurting themselves in this way #please don't do this #and please don't turn this into pro/anti discourse in the notes that is NOT THE POINT

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autisticempathydaemon · 4 months

Text

[A4A] Your Mafia Boss [Friend?] Visits You at Work

Tags: [Librarian Listener] [Talking Stage]

Type: SFW

Tone: Curious, light, ambiguously flirty or friendly

Setting and SFX: Library so maybe light conversation or pages turning

WC: 979, ~8 - 10 minutes

Author's Notes: This is a sequel; please refer to its predecessor for the full context and story!

[Library ambience, light footsteps, pause] (Light, joking) I wasn’t aware shelving books required so much standing and reading. Is this how my tax dollars are being used?

[Laugh] I’m sorry; I really didn’t mean to startle you while you were busy, but I thought it’d look worse if I stood here any longer without saying anything. I have to say, it’s no surprise we nabbed you at work if that’s how intense you get when you read. I could have opened fire and you wouldn’t have bat a pretty eye… not that I’d ever, of course.

Yes, no illegal activities, Giacomo, or yelling, or I’m out; understood. Speaking of, G has asked me to mention he’d like to come by and apologize for himself sometime if you’d allow. He’s embarrassed and would like to show you his new glasses and bring you some sort of restitution. (Conspiratorial, whispered) He’s been considering something like flowers or an edible arrangement, but I think you could really leverage a generous donation to the library out of him if you make him wait for it.

That’s not the only reason I’m here; maybe I want to see my favorite librarian. Maybe I want to partake in normal, upstanding citizen activities like paying overdue book fees, reading.

Sure, I am. In fact, maybe I’ve been looking for the book you’re about to shelve; may I? I’ve been wanting something to really jump into on a relaxing day with a blanket and coffee, and what better chance to start reading… (Resigned) “Knotted by the Alpha”.

[Pause, laughter] You can’t tell me to quiet down; you’re laughing too! Don’t shush me, you hypocrite!

(Catching breath) I walked right into that, I’ll admit. Here, take your smut back; I won’t be checking that out today. The library is so much less stuffy and uptight than I had imagined. I thought you might be shushing people constantly to maintain the peace and sanctity of the space but it’s actually so we can focus on the Omegaverse.

[Laugh] Yes, you are- Doll, you literally just shushed me!

I’m not sure I believe you, honestly. What would you do all day if not shushing people and being the object of schoolboy fantasies… and getting hauled into cars without your permission. Sorry about that, again, by the way.

Hey now- I’m not keeping you from doing your job, I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m fairly sure if I did anything of the sort, you’d go after me and my ankles with your book cart, and I’m not confident that’s a fight I’d win. I’m just curious, observing, making conversation, watching a master at work.

(Facetious) Hmm, you know what? You’re right; I should be working. In fact, I should check in with my manager and give them a call. Excuse me a second. (Sotto voce) Hey, boss? Do I have anything pressing on the agenda? (In a silly tone) No; in fact, take the whole day for yourself, my beloved and perfect employee. You’ve earned it. (Back to normal tone) Well, if you say so, who am I to argue? I’ll see you tomorrow by the watercooler then!

[Pause] (Smug) It would seem I’m free for the day.

When you’re as good as I am, you get to be the boss young. Also, my mom wanted to retire young alongside my Auntie Nina. Who was I to deny the woman who raised me?

(Surprised, pleased) She’s doing good, thank you for asking. I won’t say what we may or may not have done to cheer her up, but I’m pleased to say it’s worked and raised her spirits. I will let you know it involved sending her and my mom on a girl’s trip to Vegas. I’ll let her know you asked after her when they get back; she’ll be so charmed.

Oh, it’s Caesars Entertainment that should worry about not making their bottom line, not me. Despite her terrible instincts with men, my auntie is a monster at roulette, and my mom can count cards better than a machine. Granted, they’ll probably spend all their winnings on Processo and scantily clad men, but at the very worst they’ll break even.

If not, I’ll figure it out, I’ll pivot. Maybe I’ll consider a career change and become a librarian. Would you put in a good word for me, Doll?

(Playful, prodding) What? I love books and giving back to my community; isn’t that what’s important? What else could I need?

Okay, I hear what you’re saying about a Master’s Degree in library science, but what if, instead, I brought my winning smile? I could be your personality hire.

You don’t sound convinced. Maybe you could tell me more about these job requirements later over lunch?

Because Giacomo’s not the only one who’d like to apologize, and in my opinion, there’s no gesture quite as appropriate, heartfelt, and sincere as a home-cooked meal.

[Laugh] Doll, if I wanted to keep you quiet or take you out on anything but a date, this is not how I’d go about it. Why would I escort you home and meet you publically at your place of work if I wanted you to disappear?

Mhm. Not to mention, poison? Really? It’s an ineffectual, unreliable weapon, so slow-acting and difficult to dose properly. Besides, most poisons are horribly bitter and would ruin what I cooked. I would never disrespect food that way.

I’d say it is, given I’m the one who made it, but you’ll have to find out for yourself. When’s your lunch break?

(Sarcastic) Oh nooo, I’ll have to wait an hour? What will I do to keep myself entertained amongst this vast collection of all human knowledge and imagination?

[Laugh] Do what you’ve got to do. I’ve got a cooler, patience, and a fictional Alpha to get intimately acquainted with; I can wait.

Performances~!

youtube

(Performed by the much beloved @mr-laveau~)

youtube

#boyfriend asmr #girlfriend asmr #asmr #asmr roleplay #audio roleplay #Written by SunnyScripts #Youtube

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saltandskeletrons · 10 months

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Hi! I saw your tags on my post about AI and I was wondering what your job is that you are forced to use AI? Or just, what exactly are you using the AI for? I didn't know that work places were already incorporating ai in such a way that you would HAVE to use it.

Please don't answer either question if you feel they are too personal or if you just don't want to answer them for any reason at all. I'm just curious, is all!

Thank you for reading this and I hope you have a wonderful day!! 😊

Hey! Thanks for reaching out, I really don’t mind answering, and talking about ai generated art is pretty relevant to my career so this might be long lol.

my job is a part time graphic design student position at my university. Right now I’m working on a presentation where I have to visualize a lot of technology/ products/ and architecture that don’t really currently exist. My supervisor told me I should try using playground for some images and I was just like, ya ok I’ll try it.

(Personal opinions alert) I never used any ai image generation before bc I’ve always seen it as just stealing art. And I have no personal desire for ai writing/ visual art- it completely misses the point of making art to me.

But I am a designer which isn’t necessarily the same thing as an artist- and I don’t really get paid enough or have the time to start ethical conversations at my job. So forced was definitely a strong word to use haha but ai is really looming over the whole graphic design industry.

I know of some firms that proudly use mid journey and with a lot of free software available ai is being used more in low risk, low reward scenarios. It’s definitely not a necessity but there are designers that see it as a good way to save time but their design intent/ decision making is still at play.

But tbh the playground images I’ve ‘made’ look pretty bad and I think a sketch or photoshoped concept would look more sophisticated.

Tldr: ai image generation is being used in graphic design workplaces, but it’s not the main software being used at all. (I would argue bc it’s not good enough yet, and there is a lot of skepticism on the ethics of it)

#ai art #kind of a long post but I could go on way longer on the distinctions between designer and artist but I digress #also my theory is that graphic designers rn who are ambitious about their careers often identify more as #problem solvers or storytellers or deisgn thinkers or any name that places more emphasis on the thinking aspect of design over the visuals #which isn’t total bs but I feel like taht attitude of the ‘important’ part of deisgn is the thinking #not the actual creation is what makes ai appealing to designers #but I think people should read how to steal like an artist #ok that was a lot of tags

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couldntbedamned · 2 years

Text

Feels So Right, Can’t Be Wrong - Prologue

Summary:

The setting: Sanctum General Hospital in Sanctum Heights, New Amsterdam

Starring: Sharon Carter - former Central Security Bureau operative, Selecting Spouse in a horrifically failed Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections marriage, patient AND Anthony Edward "Tony" Stark - owner and CEO of Stark Industries, Futurist determined to rebuild a world his father built weapons to destroy, love interest

With Appearances by: Nurse Wong, Orderly Rintrah, and Billy the Admin

And Featuring Doctor Stephen Strange as "the Surgeon"

Or, "Five Dates Tony and Sharon Had in Her Hospital Room and One They Had After She Was Discharged"

AO3 Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Marriage of Convenience, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Getting to Know Each Other, Dating, Past Domestic Violence, 5 Times, Annoyed Stephen Strange, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Sharon Carter Deserves the World

Author’s Note: So this kind of just popped up as I was kicking around thoughts of just how Tony and Sharon met and eventually fell in love as mentioned in my fic Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue, so this takes place well before the events of and can be read independently of that story.

------

Prologue

------

The knock at her door was unsurprising. The nurses, doctors, and candy-stripers were all polite to a fault and never barged in.

“Ms. Carter? You have a visitor,” Nurse Wong said.

Having a visitor was surprising. Sergeant Barnes and his wife Natasha had visited, but they were moving away and busy with packing up their house. Stephen, the surgeon who’d saved her life, didn’t count as a visitor… she did count him as a friend, however. The man had been instrumental in keeping her cousin away and in fact, had called the BCSS to report her.

“Okay.”

She recognized the man who came in, though she was very confused at his appearance.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” he asked. He was carrying an elaborate bouquet of gorgeous flowers - definitely not from the little gift shop in the hospital.

She let out a soft laugh, pleased when it didn’t turn into a cough. “No, Tony Stark is not bothering me. Especially not if he’s brought me such beautiful flowers.”

He looked down at the bouquet, eyebrow raised. “Oh, these? You know, I actually bought them for myself but if you like them I can probably be persuaded to part with a few.”

“Oh yeah? Persuaded how?” she asked, motioning him to sit at her bedside. She was curious as to just what exactly had prompted Tony Stark of all people to visit her.

“Let me spend a few evenings with you,” he said. “Dinner, a radio show, possibly confessing our darkest secrets to each other, a chaste kiss on the hand goodnight, the usual.”

She actually pinched herself. “I’m sorry, what?” Was she still in her coma? Stephen had said she’d been in one for the better part of three days while she'd healed from literal brain surgery.

Tony shrugged. “Look, I’m not trying to be creepy. I saw you being wheeled along by one of the orderlies outside the other day while I was here visiting my friend Strange and… I don’t know. I kinda fell for you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Sharon argued. “It can’t be that you think I’m gorgeous; my face is far from being back to normal.” She still had black eyes and the fracture in her cheek was better, but tender to the touch. Not to mention the spots she’d had her hair shaved so that Stephen could operate were obvious despite her best brushing attempts.

“It’s more of an aura thing,” Tony said with an easy grin. “And I did some sleuthing since Stephen tells me nothing about his patients.” He sobered. “You are an amazing woman, Sharon Carter, and I’m not just saying that because you’re probably trained on how to kill a man with a paperclip.”

“So, you know that I’m a very recently formerly-married woman.”

“Yeah, from what I understand your former blonde, borderline selected spouse still had battlefields in his head and took it out on you. The BCSS took it upon themselves to annul on your behalf,” he confirmed. “Then they had the audacity to demand you pay a selection fee or select another spouse. You won’t have to worry about that, by the way. I paid it. And I, you know, may or may not have threatened them if they tried to bother you again.”

Her head was spinning. “Who are you?” she asked, bewildered. “Wha-”

“I know I’m being crazy here,” he said. “Even by my standards. But I’d like to get to know you better. The real you, not the woman from the dossier I crafted via hacking the BCSS and CSB. So, I’m hoping that you’re up for a few date nights here in this swanky hospital room and in return, I’ll give you…” He made a show of studying the bouquet. “Five flowers.”

“Five flowers for five dates?” She asked. This was crazy. She couldn’t believe she was even considering it. Stephen would lose his mind, especially if he'd told Tony not to go poking around.

“It’s a deal.”

“Tonight doesn’t count,” she said firmly.

“Of course it doesn’t. I haven’t even brought you dinner. No, I’ll do it right.”

“What’s your endgame, Tony?” she had to know.

“If everything goes well, you’ll agree to be Sharon Carter-Stark.”

She made a show of considering. “That will need it’s own bouquet.”

He beamed. “Noted.”

#tony stark x sharon carter #sharon carter x tony stark #iron 13 #1950s modern fusion au #1950s au #couldntbedamned fic #this is so self-indulgent #tony stark #sharon carter

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robertogreco · 1 year

Text

Here’s a post that I made to a watch forum on August 26, 2022. I’ve posted a few of my watch writings from there to this blog in the past (among the posts tagged ‘watches’) and I have a few more that I want to migrate.

There are collections and there are collections.

A couple days ago, we talked about the distinction between collecting and enthusiasm, how neither was necessarily dependent on the other. I’m biased to enthusiasm, but I am also biased towards a collection that tells a story. Well, they all do, but what I am saying is that the story is what really draws me in and what makes the collection most worth sharing. That’s not a surprise given my ham-fisted attempts to make the #literature tag a thing on [redacted].

(This paragraph is a long lead-in, so skip it if you want to get straight to the point.) The other day, in my non-watch wanderings on the internet, I saw “Danny DeVito Answers the Web’s Most Searched Questions.” (I’ll place that video at the very end of this post for anyone interested.) There is a reference within to DeVito’s appearance in the 1987 film Throw Momma from the Train. I have fond memories of the film having seen it in the theater when in high school. As a jazz fan at the time (still am), Branford Marsalis’s acting debut was an additional draw. Anyway, I haven’t seen the film since my own kids were young, so I went looking for a stream and there it was in full on YouTube. So I am watching. It’s taking a while because I keep pausing to try to unsuccessfully identify watches.

But it is a scene in which Owen, played by DeVito, shares his coin collection with the generally frustrated and disinterested Larry, played by Billy Crystal, that has brought me rushing back to post to [redacted]. The coins in Owen’s collection are seemingly insignificant and their only monetary worth is their face value, but it’s the story that makes them interesting and that makes them a collection, at least the kind of collection that I am most interested in. Here’s that sequence (just over two minutes long) so you can see what I mean:

youtube

SHOW ME THE COLLECTION. But please tell me the story too.

***

And here is the other video mentioned above: “Danny DeVito Answers the Web’s Most Searched Questions.”

youtube

***

I am also placing here some of my own comments that appeared in response to other comments on that post:

With watches on the mind, I suppose I might try to make everything about them. You know, “when you are holding a hammer, everything looks like a nail” or something like that. :) And it’s fun that way.

//.

For sure, our watches don’t have to tell a story nor do they have to be a collection. Yet there is often a story in them if someone is curious enough to ask questions. Where did you get it? When? Why that color? Why that model? Why that brand? What places has it gone with you? Has it ever broken? What was your first watch? Who have you met through your watch(es)? Why do you wear a watch? Etc. (Of course, “bug off” is one very acceptable response to all that.)

They can pick up stories too. Like I have said somewhere else, one of the functions of watches, especially these days, is to connect us to other people, they are a delivery mechanism for stories and history. Conversation too. I mean, here were are on [redacted], right?

///.

Thanks for the stories. I love those three watches as objects of beauty too, and I enjoyed your review of the Zodiac when you posted it the other day.

My family saw Star Wars at a drive in. It’s The Empire Strikes Back that I recall most vividly – standing on the sidewalk outside the theater (inside for that one), arguing with my dad that it couldn’t be the end of the film and was just an intermission.

////.

The everyday, that’s where it’s at for me. Sure, I like hallmark events, but the everyday memories are what really make a life for me. :)

/////.

That’s a great breakdown of ownership. For now, I am the one and done. There is a chance that I will become a wearer with a few more. I’m still getting used to wearing one after a half-century-long lifetime without them, so I might also be a wearer.

I could see myself as a curator only if I did that on behalf of an institution. And I can’t ever see myself as a player or a trophy hunter, though I do like a good search.

I’ve dabbles with the idea of learning to fix watches (for fun, not for money), but then I’d want to move most of them along to new owners. Where does a watchmaker generally sit in this list? Experience collector?

//////.

I love to geek about about these things. I agree with you that story and narrative are near-essential parts of human life, they help us form identity, find purpose, and hopefully make meaning.

This next bit might be too oddball, but I’m putting it here anyway.

I have a fascination with the topic of objects, especially with regard to their potential sublime and/or spiritual nature. I read pretty widely about topics such as maintenance and care (in the concrete, in the relational, and in the theoretical senses) and that leads to stuff like object oriented ontology and new materialism, though think those camps don’t acknowledge and/or respect animism enough and I prefer animism, the old fashion kind, not that new technology one (good essay along those lines).

I like the idea of objects as totems, grounding devices, kind of like the ones in Inception (2010), and as calming or focusing devices like worry stones and kombolói. I find myself using my watch as something like that, taking it off and fidgeting with the bracelet or rubbing my thumb on it’s dial or caseback. (I don’t have one, but the Swatch Irony watches have a great shape and feel to them that would make great worry stones. Very tempting.)

And with watches, all of this leads me to interesting places like these hirisi.

“Aluminum hirisi made by Busu Nyumbani, Ntulya, 1995. The metal can be camouflaged as watches and may deflect attention from an individual who does not want others to know that they are wearing empowered objects. While first created in 1995, these are used until today and now come in a variety of shapes and sizes.”

There’s more:

For some Sukuma individuals, protecting and empowering the body is regarded as essential to overseeing personal health, financial stability, magnetism, protection, and a variety of other concerns in daily life. Healers may incise activated powdered substances directly into a clients skin or prescribe that they bathe in them. Those adhering to traditional Sukuma religious values may also wear hirisi, or personal power objects, such as those seen on Salusalu Nyumbani (Fig. 21). The bugota used in these small woven containers, like those in other objects, are perceived to last indefinitely although the woven pieces may decay over time (Fig. 2). Individuals bathe while wearing their hirisi and rarely, if ever, remove them. Many wear them under their clothes, while others display them proudly. But in some small communities, visible hirisi can raise psychologically complicated questions. They may cause neighbors or friends to question: Why does the person feel they need empowerment or protection? Do they feel threatened by someone? Are they now stronger than others in the community? Should I feel disempowered? In 1995 Nyumbani Shilinde created a new form of hirisi in response to the concerns raised by the potentially threatening visibility of these objects. Creating hirisi in the traditional way, by embedding bugota in a small black fabric bundle, Shilinde designed a new external container from aluminum cooking pots. He commissioned Busu Nyumbani to create the round forms (Fig. 22), which Shilinde suggested could be camouflaged as wristwatches (Fig. 23). At quick glance, this new metal form would not be recognizable as a power object and the wearer would not be subjected to the potential questions or jealousies of others in response to visible forms of empowerment. These newly designed hiris, which have remained a popular alternative to the woven original, illustrate the complex psychological role that visible power objects play in Sukuma culture. Unlike traditional hirisi, they are also long lasting--the outward aluminum containers will not decay like their cotton or nylon woven counterparts. However, permanence was not Shilindes central concern in creating the camouflaged objects, but merely an outcome which happened to add to the ongoing life of the empowering substances within.

Those last few sentences are not too far removed from the way some of us talk about watches and I like that.

///////.

Maybe it’s the slow watch news of August that has me doing more blue sky and sentimental thinking about all of this.

One of the other things I like most about Owen’s collection is how small it is. When I compare the number of things I had as a kid to the number that my parents had when they were kids and to the number my children had when young, it becomes clear that from generation to generation, there is a creep in the quantity of objects in our lives. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, but I am inclined to say it isn’t. (And this is just looking at my family, which is generally very frugal, slow to buy things, and big into maintenance, repair, reuse, etc. When I compare my family to other families I know, I get anxious about all of the stuff they have.)

This leads me to share another nice and small collection from another film I love: Amélie (2001). The protagonist find’s a child’s toy collection in the wall of her apartment. I won’t spoil the rest in case you haven’t seen the film and would like to do so.

////////.

Me too. That sort of embodied memory can’t be beat. [in response to the following comment]

For me, the essence of his collection is the fact that it has meaning to him, and that's all that matters. Some of the most cherished pieces in my personal watch collection are those that have no horological significance, no monetary value, and would be of very little interest to 99.9% of watch enthusiasts, but which have a personal connection that makes them invaluable to me.

0 notes

russett-pots · 3 years

Text

Thoughtful Adoration

Kim Minju

Tags: Car sex

Word Count: 3.4k

Ummm, someone asked for a smut version. Here it is.

Just want to thank @iznsfw again since he helped beta read both of these.

After a long night doing school work, it is another start to a long grueling day. You slept at 3 am doing school work last night or this morning technically. All you want to do is take a nap. Maybe you should have brought a pillow with you to school.

You roam the halls of your school. Only a few more steps then it is the lecture hall. It is in the next building, up the stairs on the second floor. You turn to the door to room 205 and see the large empty classroom.

Ugh, aren’t I early again?

You go to your usual spot and plop down your bags to reserve your friends. Your watch says thirty minutes are left, so you cross your arms on the table and sleep on them. The quick nap relaxes you before the long lecture ahead.

A slap hits you on the head.

“Dong-hyun, are you finally awake?” Your friend, Sung-ho, asks you then hits you for a second time.

You check your watch. A 15-minute nap isn’t so bad.

The person accompanied by Sung-ho is Hyun-woo, another friend you met at college during your home org meetings. He gives you a piece of bread for breakfast.

“Did you eat already?” He asks you.

“Not yet.” You take the bread and open it from its packaging. The soft fluffy texture is something to fill your stomach until lunch.

“Did you hear what happened to the TA?” Sung-ho whisper to both of you.

Hyun-woo, ask. “Is it true?”

“That idiot doesn’t even know how to ride a motorbike!” Sung-ho almost shouts.

You pull me down to stop him from spreading gossip. “Dude, maybe it was an accident.”

“Nah, I saw him myself. He was trying to impress this student by doing a wheelie. But he botched it, and dropped his bike on himself.”

“Did he go to the hospital?” Hyun-woo asks him, still with his juice bottle in hand.

“I saw him get in an ambulance. That guy may be smart, but he is stupid.”

“Jeez, just to impress a student?” You complain. “I mean, what is he trying to do? Date her?”

“Well, if the teacher is hot, I mean, why not?” Hyun-woo laughs at you.

You roll your eyes over. A teacher or a teacher’s assistant shouldn’t be dating a student. It might get them into trouble with the university, especially the TA, and for you, you promised yourself you wouldn’t get into those messy situations.

“Oh, did you do the assignment?” Sung-ho asks you.

“Yup.” You pull it out of your bag. “Right here.”

Sung-ho takes it from your hands and simultaneously grabs his assignment to copy yours.

“At least don’t make it obvious.”

“Sure. Sure. Sure.” He waves his hands off.

You turn to Hyun-woo and give him a death stare.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I did mine.”

Suddenly the door opens wide. It is the professor and a new girl that follows him. He directs her to the teacher assistant’s desk and asks her to sit there.

“Okay, class. This is Ms. Kim Minju. She’ll be your new teacher assistant since the old one ummm…had an accident.”

Sung-ho and Hyun-woo tap on your shoulders and says. “Isn’t she pretty? Totally my type.” They say at the same time. But they look at each other with a glare and start to argue about who she belongs.

You turn to them and scold them. “First, aren’t you supposed to ask her who she likes first? And second, she is still our TA.” You slap both of their heads.

“You three! Quiet! I’m going to start the lecture.”

You all go back down and sit in your seats quietly as the lecture goes on. But you are curious who is this, Kim Minju? Every time you look down at her desk, you can see her look up, but she looks back at her monitor once you see her. This goes on in the entire 90-minute class, the back and forth looks between the both of you.

Suddenly you hear a loud voice that woke you up from your staring contest with the new TA. “That’s for today's class. Please submit your assignment to Minju.”

Essentially almost all the guys in the room would rush their way to meet the new TA and try to introduce themselves to her. But she just ignores their antics. But as the last line up, you go up to her.

“Here.”

“Thanks.” She looks at your paper. “Thanks…Dong-hyun.”

You scratch the back of your head. “Yup, that’s my name.”

“Are you doing anything later?”

“You mean lunch? Nothing.”

“Well. I’m busy. Too bad.” She looks at you then looks back at her computer.

You turn back around and look at your friends to shrug your shoulders.

Sung-ho tightly puts his arms around your shoulder and pulls you with him out the doors.

“Oh shit. I think she likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t.” you reply.

“What do you mean? She was flirting with you during class.” Sung-ho explains to you.

“Trust me. I know one when I see one.” Hyun-woos punches you in the stomach.

The three of you start to walk out of the doors.

“You like noonas, Dong-hyun?”

“It isn’t a bad thing. But I prefer—”

The door swings open. It is Minju. She looks at you with her hair flying thru the air like in a shampoo commercial. Giving a quick to you and smile as she walks in the opposite direction.

“I told you she likes you.” Sung-ho taps your shoulder.

This goes on for the rest of the term. But it doesn’t stop you from attending class. You still go there, sit down, listen to the lecture, and do homework, but the subtle flirts that Minju gives irritate you. It is too small to do anything but still big enough to annoy you. You don’t want to report her because half of the male population is already drooling over her, and you don’t want to spoil their imagination.

With all your frustration, you meet up with your long-time friend, a childhood friend. He is older than you, already graduated, and now taking his master's.

“Hyung, I’m tired.” You say while taking a swig of your beer.

“Really? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing much, just school and all.”

“Just go with it. It isn’t like we can do much about it.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You look down, defeated, gently playing with your bottle like a rattle toy.

“I could tell that there is something else. A girl, maybe?”

“No! Well, yes… We aren’t dating tho.”

“Does someone already have a crush?”

You blush at his statement. “Kind of but not really. I do like her, but she is my TA. It isn’t like something that we can, you know….”

“Ugh. The same you and your morals. Anyway, it is almost the end of the term. You can still have your chance.”

“I’m not interested anyway. I already see her as a teacher, and it is kind of hard to reverse that.”

“I see… Anyway. It is getting late. Before. I leave. I’m going to have a party at my place. Wanna come?”

“The party is this Friday?”

“Yup. See you there?”

“Sure, Sure.”

He leaves you by yourself, contemplating.

Maybe this party would clear my mind.

Fast forward to Friday—

*Ding* *Dong*

You stand there out the door, waiting for it to open. The door swings, and it is your friend.

“Ah, Dong-hyun. Welcome.”

“Sorry for being late. Traffic has been bad.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, come in.”

He leads you inside, and there are plenty of people inside, talking, drinking, and playing games. With all of your introvertedness, you just stand there at the side and watch everyone.

“Dong-hyun!” Your friend tries to catch your attention. “I want to introduce someone to you.”

She points out this beautiful, innocent, elegant girl. “Here is Minju. She is in one of my classes.”

You form a fist and give a very slight grin.

“Now you have met each other. I’ll go.” Then he comes up to Minju and whispers. “Happy?”

Minju just waves him off. “Hello, Dong-hyun. I’m Minju” She extended her hand to you.

You shrug her off a bit. “Seriously? I already know who you are? Why are you even here?”

“Come on. I’m here to make friends.”

“Aren’t you a flirt?”

She looks at you with disbelief. “If you don’t believe me, then I’ll go.”

“No, wait.” You take her wrist. “Fine, but what’s with all the looks.”

“Ummm, you can say I was flirting.”

“I knew it! Anyway, it isn’t like I have a chance with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are the teacher’s assistant. I don’t want to date the teacher’s assistant.”

She looks at you and nods. “Well, I don’t mind dating a student.”

“Really?! We can—. I mean, sorry. I told you I can’t.”

She takes both of your hands with hers and looks at you in the eyes. “Do you like me?”

“Not really… I mean, since you’re my you know.”

“Okay, Imagine I’m not your TA. Do you want to date me?”

“I mean, you’re pretty. You seem kind, smart, gentle. I don’t see a reason not to.”

“Let’s try the two of us, and if it doesn’t work out, then I’ll be your TA. But if it does, imagine what can happen.”

You stand there conflicted. Having your limits when it comes it dating is something that you have for a reason. But here is this beautiful girl you have never thought would like you to ask you to be her boyfriend.

Minju inches closer to you. Her body touches yours, and you go up to face to face. Her cute fox face looks at you.

“One chance, Okay?”

You look at her and nod. “Fine, one chance.”

She goes up and kisses you on the lips. You return the favor. The kiss lasts for a second then goes on for longer. You pull her closer to you, close enough to smell her hair, and the scent is fragrant. She releases herself from you but leaves your foreheads touching each other.

“So, what now, Noona?”

“I don’t know. I never made it this far.”

“You wanna get out of here?”

“Sure”

You pull Minju with you out the door. But before you can turn the knob, your friend from the other side of the room shouts.

“Leaving already—”

You point to pull up your hand that is holding Minju’s.

He waves you goodbye. With this, you get out of the house and into the street. You see your car, and the both of you get in it.

Minju asks, “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. Ice cream?”

She nods in excitement as you speed off to the nearest 24-hr-fast-food chain in the middle of the night. The car rolls up to the drive-thru:

“Hello. What can I get for you today?”

“Two Chocolate Sundaes.”

“Okay, Is that all?”

“Yup.”

“Please go to the next window.”`

You head over there and pay for the ice cream, and then at the next, you collect them. Minju suggests eating in the parking lot. You each take a bite of the cold dessert and the hot fudge of the syrup—each bite made more special with her.

“Noona, wait.” You take a tissue and wipe the bottom of her lip.

“Thanks.”

“No, there was nothing there. I just wanted to touch your face.”

Minju blushes at your cheesy statement.

“Aren’t you a flirt?”

“It isn’t flirting if it is with your girlfriend.”

Minju smiles again and kisses you on the lips. “Wait, let’s get out of here.” She gets off the car, moves over to the driver’s side, and knocks on your windows. “ Come on, and I want to show you something.”

You get off the car, and now Minju is pulling your wrist. She runs as fast as she can until you reach the park. “Look at this.”

Soon a fountain show starts—a spectacle of water spewing out of nozzles playing in different formations. Light and colours illuminated all around. First in a shape of a flower, then it wizzes around in circles, finally ending with bursts of water shooting above.

You and Minju sit down at the bench and enjoy it as the short yet fantastic spectacle. Minju gets nervous and pulls her put down to the seat. “I never really brought anyone here. It is my safe space when I’m alone. Moving here from a different city is hard. Now that I have you. I guess it can make things better.”

You look at her, and eyes gaze on each other. “Then I’m happy that you showed me.” You touch her cheek and lean in to touch her lips with yours for a brief moment.

“It is getting late. I have a Saturday class tomorrow.” You look down in slight disappointment.

Minju’s forehead gently touches yours, kissing your lips one more time. “I have work tomorrow.”

Both of your answers dishearten one another.

With your hand on her cheek. “I’ll take you home.”

You both walk back to the car, but your fingers linger to each other. They are hesitant to hold on to each other but finally, with all your courage. You take the leap forward and take her hand, holding it with fingers interlocking each other.

Minju’s cheeks turn red hot. The short walk back to the car warms her heart. She flaps her hand, trying to cool herself from your cheesy moves. You guide her until you reach the car. Being the gentleman you are, you open the door for her then quickly swoops over to the other side to take your seat.

While putting on her seatbelt, she remarks. “Aren’t you classy?”

“What can I say? I’ll do anything to make my girlfriend happy.”

Minju leans over the venter consul whispers to you. “There is only one thing to do left on a first date,”

Your eyebrows pop up. Knowing what she means.

You both go off to Minju’s house and drop her off.

On the way, you see Minju’s hand lurk towards your pants, playing the space between your legs. Soon an outline forms as she toys with your bulge. She puts her hand inside your pant and can feel the enormous package inside; her hand strokes the long, girthy length as the other would struggle to undo the button on your pants.

Once your feel your pants loosen, Minju pulls down the zipper and pushes your boxers away. Out springs your cock. With your eyes switching between the road and Minju, you can feel her gentle touch pumping your length up and down.

“Don’t mind me. Just drive.” Minju looks at you.

But you ignore her face and just concentrate on driving. Her mouth soon engulfs your shaft. The wet cave encircles it. Her tongue runs in circles—her hand strokes in tandem as her mouth bobs up and down.

You drive with all your might, trying to focus on the road. Unable to control it, your hand moves over to the body, moves behind her ass, and starts squeezing it. But you put both of your hands back on the wheel to avoid drifting out of your lane.

But you can only groan as you drive more, and Minju pushes deeper into your cock. Her slurping rings around the car.

Finally, you are able to get into her open driveway and park in a place where no one could see. But you cannot get out. Minju is still down there sucking on your cock.

She looks up at you then slowly moves her leg to the other side of the seat, allowing her to position herself on top of you while you pull down your pants to the floor and pull the lever of the seat to make it flat. With her upon you, she slowly removes her shirt upon you, revealing her perky breast encased in a bra.

Minju moves down to you and kisses you on the lips again. However, slowly you trace your movements down to her neck, then collar bone finally landing on her chest. With a flick of your fingers, her bra drops. With her breast exposed, you move in and kiss it, play with it, and bite on her nipples.

Her moans escape from her vocal cords, filling the car. The pleasure is so intense that she falls onto the seat's side, beside you, while you still suck on her breast. From her thighs up to her ass, your hands hold on to her delicate waist. The slowly dripping sweat drips around your fingers.

You release your mouth from her breast, allowing Minju to unbutton her shorts. But you pull it down by yourself, making you touch her smooth bottom. She goes back to the kiss. You move her tongue inside her mouth. You pull her back on top of you with your hard grip on her. A scream escapes the tight space cramps her.

Her hand directs your length to the edge of her slit. She carefully inserts it inside her, making it penetrate deep. Her face shows the delight but a hint of the pain of your cock inside her. The first time of your in she needs some adjusting. But when the walls finally get used to the size, it finally allows her to move. She goes up and down, riding you all the way and moving left, right, forward, and backward.

The full surge of pleasure gets sent from your cock up to your brain.

“Fuck, Dong-hyun. I’m going to cum.” Minju’s shout fills the car.

She moves in faster and faster on top of your cock. The movent rapidly increases with her pleasure moans dilling the car. Pumping in and out. But suddenly her pace slows down. As you see tiny streams of liquid trickle down from inside her. You both pant heavily.

“I guess it’s your turn.”

You switch positions by turning her over still with your cock inside. Now with Minju on the seat and you on top, you have control. Your hands get planted between her head as your resume fucking her. First, slowly, push in and out gently.

Minju starts heavily breathing as you begin to increase your speed. You get in quick and quicker, pushing in deeper into the depths of her crevices.

“Noona, you are so tight.”

The only response is a smile and her repetitive screams coming from her mouth.

Finally starting to reach your peak, you grab the back of her legs into a mating press. This allows you to push at your fastest speed. You grunt in tandem with your thrust. Now Minju is at her loudest, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her little pussy is getting ripped apart by your cock.

“Noona, I’m going to cum….Where do you….want…it?” You say in between your pants.

“Anywhere. Just anywhere. Even inside is okay.”

You raise your eyebrows. “That’s my favorite.”

You thrust in a few more times, penetrating as deep as you can. Your tip probing as far as it can reach. You can feel a warm feeling down below. Finally, with what felt like the most pleasurable ride you ever had, you spew ropes of cum inside her. Rounds and rounds of your white sticky liquid now all her walls.

Exhausted, you fall on top of her.

“Ouch.”

You move to the cramped space on her side. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

“It’s okay. Me too.”

You move over to the side and look at your girlfriend, staring at her beauty. She looks back at you, eyes locked on. You put your arms over Minju, pulling her closer to you, kissing with your nose, then kissing with your lips.

“Shouldn’t we get going?” Minju jokingly says.

“Oh shit, right.”

Minju, in the car, stumbles around trying to puts on her clothes while you struggle to put on your pants. Finally Minju fully clothed and you with only your pants and shoes, you both get off the car and you walk her to the front door.

“This is me. I guess. I enjoyed today.”

“Same here. I enjoyed my time with you.”

She kisses you on the cheek one more time before opening the door.

“See you at class?”

“See you at class.”

#Kim Minju #Minju smut #kpop smut #izone smut #request

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euphorickaeya · 2 years

Text

𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 !! PT 2.

honey’s notes: maybe it’s just the fact that I really am hyper fixated w Diluc having a kid but I made this as soon as part 1 was posted, also my sore throat is killing me and I am so not slaying rn.

part 1

recommended song: look who’s inside again - Bo Burnham.

summary : Elise has gone missing and Diluc’s on the verge of tearing through teyvat to find her, not to fret, Elise was found safe and sound.. and with a boy?

pairings : Diluc x GN!reader. Mentions of Kaeya, Jean, Lisa, Noelle, Venti, Zhongli, Ei. (diluc is platonic!yandere to his daughter and romantic!yandere to reader.)

tagging @koinotame for part 2 ^^ @spare-some-bones SOSGSH BONES IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO TAG U IN MY WORKS WHEN I KNOW U ASKED 💀

[content warning: overprotectiveness, cursing, Diluc is a helicopter parent almost. Arguing. trauma. This includes scenes where elise gets injuries from diluc, so please be wary of this fic because this is one of my darker fics, since it deals with note abuse but Diluc accidentally harms Elise. Cult. Obsession. Manipulation. Diluc is ooc. Idk what I was doing for this fic 💀]

on Elise’s side..

A rustle of the bushes was heard, a little Elise popped out, her little bunny still in her arms, “they were loud, don’t you think, cloud?” The little girl asked her bunny, who could do nothing but look at her with its beady black eyes.

she walked around the outer sides of Mondstadt, looking around almost eagerly, she’s rarely been able to travel like this alone, despite being young, Elise knows how protective her father can be.

As she walked around town, she bumped into a small boy around her age. A small ‘oomf’ left her lips as she shielded her bunny. Looking up, seeing a shy boy, his shaggy blonde hair covered one of his green eyes as he looked down at her, concerned but also scared.

“a-are..are you okay?” The boy asked, hesitantly putting his hand out so Elise could have help standing up. She took the hand as she stood up, dusting her dress off with one hand. “mhm! I’m sorry for bumping into you.” She chirped, looking at him as she swayed from left to right.

The boy jumped, a small red tinged his ears as he scratched the back of his head. Elise giggles. “I’m Elise, this is my bunny, cloud! Get it? it’s cause he’s white like a cloud!” Elise pushed her pet forward. The poor thing dangled for a few seconds in front of the boy’s face, the boy awestruck. Elise once again cradled it. The bunny seemed not to care about anything Elise did.

“That’s..that’s nice.” The boy mumbled as he fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt. “my name’s uhm..it’s Vernon of the Marshall family.” Elise tilted her head, curious. “I’ve never head of that family before. My papa has a lot of connections but never did he once mention anything Marshall.” The boy stepped back, nodding.

“Yeah, we just, moved to Mondstadt a few days ago…from Fontaine.” He explained. Elise took note of how anxious he was, as she scanned Vernon, she took note of the book he’s carrying.

“You like reading?” She chirped, tilting her head once again. Vernon gulped, before nodding. “I know I should be into knights and stuff but-“ the blonde boy rambled before Elise laughed loudly. “that’s not weird, but we’re definitely the opposites, I have an auntie, who’s the headmaster here, and I wanna be just like her!” Stars almost sparkled in Elise’s eyes talking about her auntie jean.

“Actually, now that I know you like books, I can show you the library if you’d like!” She leaned into vernon’s face, Elise had no concept of a personal bubble ever, so Vernon just jumped and yelped as he held his book closer to him. “I was looking for the library around here, so it’d be greatly appreciated if you did.” Vernon bowed as a thank you, following Elise who had started to walk towards the knights of favonious headquarters.

As both the children approached, Kaeya and Jean stood outside of the headquarters. Hearing the small click clacks of Elise’s Mary Janes and Vernon’s shoes they turn their heads, “lady Elise! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The two knights rushed over, turning the Childe around and around to check for injuries. “Come, your parents are worried about you!” Jean says, gently pulling her to the direction.

Elise gasped as she pulled away. “Auntie Jean!” She cried out, The headmaster was shocked by the name Elise called her, looking at her with wide eyes. “Please don’t tell baba and papa I’m here! I just made a new friend, so please don’t tell them!” She looked up to Kaeya and Jean with her saddest puppy eyes, both knights jumped as worried expressions painted their face, which started to contort to that of restrain.

The restrain coming from trying to resist Elise’s sad puppy eyes. Kaeya broke first, letting out a big sigh as he nodded, “okay, okay. But your papa’s gonna kill me once he finds out I’ve known where you are.” He ruffled his niece’s hair. Elise smiles as she takes Vernon’s hand, running to the door of the headquarters, asking to have the guards open the door as she and Vernon entered the building.

Before fully entering, she turns back to Jean and Kaeya who were having not only a crisis because they let their creator’s child beat them with just a look but also dread because they know how devastated you and Diluc are from losing your child around Mondstadt on the most important day of their child’s life.

“Thank you uncle Kaeya! You’re the best uncle ever!” Kaeya snapped out from his existential dread to laugh as she waved goodbye to him. “I’m your only uncle.” He called out. Elise giggled before heading back into the building.

“Okay so, what do we tell their grace.” Kaeya deadpanned back to Jean who had a sullen expression on her face. “For once..I don’t know what to do.” She replies back as she stared at Kaeya. Who looked at her with the same deadpan expression, confirming that neither knights knew what to tell you and Diluc, after promising to Elise not to rat her out.

“Miss Lisa takes care of the library. She makes sure nothing goes lost nor hidden.” Elise explains as the guards open the door for her, bowing. “Why do the guards bow for you..if you don’t mind me asking!” Vernon exclaimed, looking at the guard that was bowing as they entered the library.

“My baba’s the creator god, so I’m kind of royalty.” Elise nonchalantly explains as Vernon’s eyes widened. “You’re the daughter of the creator god? Aren’t you supposed to be in a palace or something?-“ Vernon rambled.

“You ramble too much.” Elise states as she walks towards Lisa’s desk, who was ready to help them navigate the library. “Miss Lisa!!” Elise yelled, Lisa winced as she laughed, “yes, what is it that you need Lady Elise? Oh? You’ve brought a boy. You’ve never done that before.” Lisa teased as she pinched Elise’s cheek who just giggled pulling away from her teasing.

“Mhm! He’s new to Mondstadt and he loves reading! So I wanted to show him where the library was.” Elise explained, adjusting the bunny in her arms, which Lisa had just noticed. “Lady Elise, animals aren’t- oh well, just this once I guess.” Lisa was too busy to tell Elise she couldn’t have her little bunny in the library because of the fur.

“Wait!- before we go,” Vernon called as he stopped Elise by the hand to stop her from getting lost in the aisles of the library, “can- can I have a library card? My mama and papa were supposed to take me here so,” Vernon asked over the counter, his eyes peeking up at Lisa who just smiled at him, nodding.

“Your name?” Lisa took a piece of stock card and a quill, it was a library card. “Vernon Marshall.” He mumbled. Lisa wrote it down before handing it over to the small boy. “You’re able to take home five books at most for reading, you just need to hand this over to me,” Lisa taps the card in Vernon’s hand. “And I’ll record the date you borrowed and you can take them home for as long as you want, as long as you return them, of course.” She explained, Vernon nodding along.

“Thank you!” He bowed gently as he went to hold hands with Elise once again. Lisa watched the two run off into the library as she giggled quietly. “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing those two often in the future.” She tells herself as she continues back to working.

Kaeya and Jean stood with sweat running down their faces as they watched you comfort an almost crying Diluc, whispering comforting words and sweet nothings into his ear to keep him from burning down Mondstadt to find his child.

Venti landed in front of you and Diluc as Zhongli and Ei returns from looking around. “Well? Where’s my child?” You stood up from beside Diluc, who finally looked up, from his hands. Venti had a grim expression. “I’ve heard her from the winds but I couldn’t pin point where she was, I promise you I will find her, your grace.” A hand was put in front of Venti to stop him.

“You call yourself an archon and one of my most devoted acolytes but you cannot do such a simple thing as to find my child?” You scolded Venti with a cold voice and an almost disappointed expression. Venti gasped as he kneeled. “I’m sorry, your grace. I promise you I will find her and I promise you I won’t disappoint.” He could feel the overwhelming weight of dread and your piercing gaze on his back, as he sweated.

Zhongli and Ei took that as a sign to continue looking, a small bow left them before the returned to looking around Mondstadt and anywhere near the outskirts of Mondstadt, leaving behind a scared Venti. “Then why are you still here! Go! Find my child or I’ll make sure you won’t be as incompetent as you are now!” You pointed for Venti to leave and he did, nodding as he flew even faster, looking harder for your child.

“What if she’s dead in a ditch, your grace?! I don’t want to lose her, she’s our child-” Diluc clung onto the fabrics of your clothes as you sat back and patted your husband’s back. “Diluc, my love. You are right, Elise is our child, that’s why I know she’ll be alright. She’s strong, okay?” Diluc shook his head, holding onto his head, “she’s five!” You sighed. “I know, but she’s a smart little girl! It’s okay, Diluc. Elise is safe, I know teyvat wouldn’t let anyone harm that child as long as she is mine.” You cupped Diluc’s cheeks into your hands as you made him look into your eyes, only solemnly nodding.

Diluc wants to go look for his daughter, he’s sat her for what feels like decades and his daughter is still not in his arms. An itch takes over him, it’s an urge to hold and protect his child from any harm that befalls his precious daughter. He must protect her, Diluc doesn’t care if he’s being over protective or deep down psychotic about the way he’s worried about his daughter. He just wants his little bird by his side.

A shush came from you as you held Diluc close, who could do nothing but nuzzle his face closer into the crook of your neck. The shaking in his legs stops him from going out and turning every pebble in Mondstadt to find his child. He felt helpless, almost useless, if not even the archons could find her, how could he find Elise?

After an hour or two, Kaeya and Jean still stood, sweating, looking at each other. Before jean gasped and looked towards you and Diluc. “Elise is at the KOF headquarters and she didn’t want us telling you because she said she wanted to spend time away from you and I’m so sorry for not telling you, your grace!” Jean blurted out. A loud silence overcame the group. Silence from you was the most fearful thing a human could ever experience.

You stood from your spot once again. “You knew, yet you waited to tell us this now, because?” You glared at Jean, who was now shaking. Your glare had shook her to her core, as Kaeya could do nothing but look away in guilt, as much as he was as involved in this as Jean was, he could not bare to try and help, too afraid of the disappointment you’d glare into him.

“Are you even able to see what’s in front of you grandmaster Jean? My husband is worried sick for our child and here you are keeping the location of our child from not only the creator, the very hand that created you and the world you live in, but a child’s parents.” You yelled at her, the merchants watched the commotion go on, a few looks of pity on Jean as you scolded her horribly around people.

“She- Lady Elise was begging for me not to tell you and I just, I didn’t know what to do-“ Jean shakily explained, she could feel her knees buckle, it was all a flash before she saw Diluc’s angry expression in front of her, grabbing her from the collar of her shirt. A squeak left Jean as tears formed in her eyes.

“You bitch. You kept my fucking child away from me? Who the fuck do you think you are?” You had snapped out from your anger, staring at the horrifying monster in front of you, it held Jean by the collar of her shirt as Jean’s eyes has now freely spilled tears. “Diluc..” Jean could barely whisper his name as he shook her once again. “Tell me! Who the fuck do you think you are, to keep my own child away from me? You’ve got nerve, just cause you’re the grandmaster? Is that why?—“ You pulled Diluc off of Jean, who felt into Kaeya, sobbing freely as she held her head in her hands, a repeating mantra of ‘I didn’t mean to’ left her lips.

“Diluc!” You called his name in horror. Diluc’s chest heaved as he stared at Jean with pure rage as she struggled to stand. “I’m going after my child.” He muttered, bumping into Kaeya’s shoulder on the way, before stopping. “If you even still consider yourself a brother of mine, the least you could’ve done as my brother was tell me where my child was.” Diluc spat at Kaeya. The blue-haired captain was silent as his hands held Jean by the shoulder, awfully quiet for his personality.

You stared in dismay, you are still angry at Jean for not telling both you and Diluc the whereabouts of your child, even if Elise did want to know. Knowing where she was could’ve at least eased both Diluc and you. Though what you said to jean was cruel, you truly felt like nothing you can say could compare to what Diluc spat at the man he once saw as a brother.

You stayed silent as you walked past Jean and Kaeya, you can see from the corner of your eye the way Kaeya shook, you couldn’t tell if it’s from guilt or anger, but the way his hands shook and started to falter it’s hold on jean made you feel horrible. You walked with Diluc to the headquarters, the u comfortable silence taunted you as you can feel your hands start to swear from the tension that surrounded both of you.

No longer was this a wonderful birthday party for your little girl, it was spoilt by the tension and anger seeping out of Diluc. Like a cake left out to rot in the sun, forgotten. Diluc opened the door, seeing Noelle serving your little girl, and a boy.

As if not as angry as before, Diluc stormed up to Elise and Vernon, pulling them away from the book both of the children read. “What are you doing?” Diluc hissed at Elise, who has never seen her father like this before. All Elise knew of her father was his smiles and his love. His warm hugs, his sweet comforting words.

What Elise saw now was not her papa. “Papa?..” Elise squeaked out, Diluc’s grip on her small little wrist tightened. “why’d you run away? You could’ve gotten hurt, if you wanted to go to the library you could’ve told us, must you disrespect me like this, little bird?” Diluc scolded Elise brutally as you felt yourself almost freeze.

The scene in front of you made you sick. The way Diluc had an iron grip on a small child treating her as if she’s supposed to know anything, scared you to the core. His eyes frenzied into an almost psychotic expression. You can see from where you stood the way Elise’s eyes glimmered, it shone with a coat of her tears, ready to fall.

“Papa, I just, i made a new friend and-” Elise tried to pull away from Diluc’s hurtful grip as you finally walk towards them, almost running as you pushed Diluc away. “Diluc, enough!” You held Elise back who’s tears started to fall, you’ve just now realized how Diluc’s vision started to glow.

It..didn’t, right?

You look back at Elise’s wrist. Red, pure red, it burns and it’s terrifying as Elise starts to cry out loud. Your child, harmed by her own father. It scared you, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. You understood Diluc’s protectiveness, at least you thought you did. You fall to your knees, manifesting water into your palms as you started to heal the injury on your child.

“Not only do you disrespect your father, you ran off with a boy! You’re only five, Elise! You-“ a harsh push to the floor stopped Diluc. In his eyes, it felt like everything bled into its normal colour, no longer did he see red, the anger, the worriedness. He saw his child in pain and you in anger. “Diluc! What has gotten into you? Our child is hurt because of you.” Diluc started to regain his breath, feeling a sense of breathlessness as he registered the burn on his daughter’s hand.

He couldn’t of done that, right? He loves his child, he wouldn’t. He.. he did. He did that. He hurt the most precious thing he’s ever been given besides a place by your side. “I didn’t..” A sentence tried to form itself from Diluc’s lips as you stood as if defending Elise from him. “You did.”

“I, I was worried! Your grace, you must understand I-“ Diluc tried to explain as he stood up, Elise running into your arms. You held Elise tightly into your arms, Vernon was being shielded by Noelle as a mess was scattered over the floor. Your ears filled with the cries of your poor child and her friend. “Diluc, look around you! You idiot!” Your hands covered Elise’s ears. Her hands held tightly onto your clothes, shaking in fear.

The room was filled with a tense silence, huffs from Diluc and your soft whisper of comfort to Elise was the only thing keeping it from being fully silent. “Shh, it’s alright little angel, go with ms. Noelle, your father’s just worried, okay? Papa’s sorry.” You pat her back as she ran to Noelle, who gently escorted her away from the room with Vernon. You watched as their figures left the room and turned to Diluc, who held his head in one of his hands.

As if he’s going insane. “Diluc.” Your voice turned ice cold, your glare felt like it was piercing him straight through the chest as he looked up at you. “I’m sorry, your grace. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I swear.” He kneeled in front of you, his hands on your feet as he cried endlessly.

You had no words, is this still even Diluc. Is this, the character you had once spent so much to nurture? Is this your Diluc? You felt your hands shake as it curled and uncurled in discomfort.

The foyer of the headquarters was long barren, the knights guarding left to give you both privacy. The whole corridor was just filled with loud and heavy sobs of the winery owner before you.

You had no idea what to do. This man before you, the one you trusted with a place by your side. This is Diluc Ragnvindr. The man you trusted with an offspring of your blood, retorting to a small crying ball at your feet.

You felt like you were in a fever dream. You couldn’t say anything. Diluc sniffled as he looked up at you, deep in thought, staring down at him.

“You, you still love me right? I promise I’m still Diluc. I’m still your husband, your consort. I promise I won’t hurt our child again. Don’t leave me! Don’t abandon me!” Diluc bunched up the cloth of your pants in his hands, almost pulling you down.

“Please! I’ll be better, I’ll do better! I won’t do it again, I was just worried! Please, please!” One of Diluc’s hand’s moved onto your curled fists, trying to intertwine his fingers with yours, trying to convince you that the man you fell in love with is still there.

“again?..” you whisper. Diluc stopped crying, stray tears slowly falling off his cheeks. “..huh?” Diluc hummed, still looking up at you. “you said, that you wouldn’t hurt our child again. You’d hurt her again, to keep her “safe”? Is that what you’re trying to say?” You taunt, pushing him off you with the use of your feet.

“No I, I meant..” Diluc shook his head lightly, he clutched your hand tighter as he tried to stand up. “You’re putting words in my mouth, your grace I-“ you pulled your hand away from Diluc, earning a whimper from the man.

“You’ve not only ruined our Elise’s birthday, you’ve also strikes a huge fear into Jean, had injured Elise, scared her friend, and you accuse me of putting words in your mouth.” You walked towards him, an accusatory finger in his face as he backed away, another starting waterfall in his eyes.

“The Diluc I know would never hurt his child over a boy, and he’s always calculated his actions.” Diluc could hear his heart break into millions of pieces, his eyes glossing over like newly cut glass. You pushed his hands away from yours.

A glare came from you, burnt holes like lava, even as a pyro user, diluc could feel the hot burning anger and disappointment running through your veins. Disgusting, he thought. Awfully disgusting, so horrible, it itches and burns, your gaze on his. He’s fallen off of his podium of being untouchable. He was no longer saved from the demons and the darkness he had started to get used to not being trapped by anymore.

“Don’t..Don’t leave me, please! I don’t know what I’d do, if you left me! Don’t take Elise from me! I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” Diluc could feel the lingering embarrassment in the flurry of emotions he was acting on. He sobbed and cried, almost ripping the robe you wore.

“I believe you, need some time to yourself.” You moved back from diluc’s pitiful shaking body. “You can crawl your pitiful self back to the manor once you’ve thought what you’ve done wrong.” Diluc held his sobs in, listening to your words.

“If It wasn’t already bad, when you’ve hurt your own kin, but apologizing to me? Instead of your child. I don’t know who you are anymore.” You walk away, the clack of your boots booming in diluc’s ear.

You’d left him alone to bring your crying child home. The halls of the favonius quarters were quiet, the only sound of diluc’s sobbing filling the room.

he wonders if he’d been too holding onto you and Elise too long?

#euphoric~works #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact x reader #genshin self aware au #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere diluc #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc x reader #euphoric~diluc

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yutahoes · 3 years

Text

Ghost of You

pairing: idol! Yuta (NCT member) x idol! Y/N (solo idol-actress)

word count : 5k words

genre: angst

summary: He was the one who ended everything. But you’re like a ghost that kept haunting him.

warning : break up, alleged cheating, pregnancy, a fic where you just want to strangle Yuta to death

Based on this ask. I’m sorry, I tweaked the story and changed some of the song (especially the Olivia Rodrigo one because it doesn’t fit the story) The songs I used are linked in the story. Also, I have no idea how the idol world works and please note that this is just fanfiction. Please Enjoy reading.

Broken glass, an empty unruly apartment. Signs that a big fight happened. All because of a tabloid article of him seeing his co-host late at night. Yuta argued that she needed someone to talk to and Y/N was angry that he winged their anniversary V-live just for this. “You can tell me if you’re sick of me, Yuta.” she claimed that made him hiss. “Don’t you think I didn’t notice? You’re always making up things just so you can’t meet me.”

“That’s not true!” Yuta shouted. “I am busy.”

Tears ran down her face. “Then explain how Jungwoo had lunch with me last Friday when you said that you’re practicing with your members.”

“Stop saying that I don’t even make time for you.” His voice raised in frustration. “When all you do is hang out with that co-star of yours.”

The girl scoffed. “So it’s my fault now? It’s work, Yuta.” It’s always the same reason. “I asked you a lot of times if you’re alright with the drama and you never mention anything. Now, you’re using it against me?”

The guy shook his head. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow. I’m tired.”

“And I’m also tired.” She whispered. “Let’s end this, Yuta.” She threw the promise ring before leaving the apartment.

The news next day was about Y/N erasing pictures of them in her social media accounts. The breakup news between the solo idol and the NCT member followed. Taeyong just shook his head watching Yuta exit the CEO’s office with droopy shoulders. “I really like her for you, hyung.” Mark claimed when he entered the practice room.

He didn’t know where it went wrong. They were happy. Everyone likes their relationship. His fans are her fans, and hers are his. They were tagged as the greatest idol couple, often paired in dances since it’s both their strengths. Y/N was casted in a period drama and he’s a supportive boyfriend who visited her the first day of the filming and thanked everyone for taking care of his girlfriend. She filmed romantic scenes, kissing her actor co-star. And he was fine. “It’s work, Yuta.” She would always say. And he would just smile.

He started hosting a radio show with a female Japanese idol and he was cold at her, wanting to stir away from controversy. But as her drama progressed, with more romantic scenes and more kissing, he felt left out. She’s becoming a star. And he’s becoming Y/N’s idol boyfriend. Slowly, he’s getting fed up with the relationship that’s slowly getting centered on her.

It felt like a breath of fresh air that it all ended now. Like a thorn removed from his aching heart.

All the public’s sympathy went to her, as he expected. She’s the star. The more famous one among the two of them. So he just painted himself as the bad guy by confirming that he’s dating his co-host which surprised the other girl. The agency was surprised at the decision but it became such a media frenzy that their radio show got high ratings every week. Even the sales of their album spiked up and he became known as NCT’s Yuta and not as someone’s idol boyfriend.

Everything is getting better.

-----

It was the end of the year award show when they crossed paths again. They were doing a great job avoiding each other. Why now? Nine members meant a vacant seat from the round table artists are seated at. The staff repeatedly apologized but as kind as she is, she just smiled and sat between Doyoung and Jaehyun, just across Yuta. She greeted all the members, even complimenting Haechan’s hair and Taeil’s suit. “Congratulations on best album.” she greeted, smiling widely to avoid the awkwardness.

“Aren’t you releasing an album as well?” Johnny asked that made her nod. “Another dance track?” Taeyong asked but Y/N shook her head saying that it was a ballad album and that she will perform later. The guys were obviously surprised, ballad isn’t her best track. She’s more known for her dancing skills so it is indeed a huge surprise.

When the best female idol awardee was called, the NCT members all stood up to congratulate her. Jungwoo even helped her with her pink lace gown. She did the usual thank you message: thanking her parents, the almighty being, the management, the staffs, and her fans. “And lastly…” Yuta gasped. Whenever she gets an award, she thanks him lastly for comforting and always supporting her. “Please watch out for my album.” He felt his heart drop, especially when she smiled that angelic smile. Why is she shaking him like this?

Yuta was already bored. He just wants to go home. The lights dimmed and the emcees announced her as the next performer. Because it’s a live performance, they showed some clips of her photoshoot for her new album. He had to agree that this concept fits her. She looked prettier than when they used to go out.

He was more surprised to see an orchestra accompaniment behind her on stage. Her, seated on a platform, wearing a white sequined dress that shines like stars when the spotlight shone on her. The crowd clapped just as the start of the song played. (Imagine this as the performance.)

The other members warily glanced at him. A break up song. Why isn’t he surprised?

My dream changed - instead of a famous singer, I tried to become a good wife

He remembered how she would always try to learn to cook whenever she had extra time. She never mentioned anything to him. It was until one night, they were laying next to each other, when she asked him if he wanted her to continue being an idol. That made him curious that time. She loved performing. Why would she ask that?

Now, he knew why.

By the time the second chorus rolled in, he was just amazed at how she could sing those notes while seated down. Her singing really got better.

Someday you’ll probably call me then I hope you will be a man and congratulate me

Because this is all thanks to you, I’ll prepare a good thank you message for you

He can hear Mark giggling beside him. Johnny pursed his lips as if preventing to laugh. “Hyung, please record her thank you message.” the youngest member teased that made him annoyed.

Her voice echoed all throughout the venue. Her adlibs hitting notes that she cannot do before and she’s sitting while doing that.

Slowly, I got over you like that

Their eyes met. Those sparkling eyes. She’s shining. She looks well. She looks better. Without him.

The fresh air suffocated him, burning his lungs in the process. The thorn that was removed came back and brought friends, a knife tearing his heart into pieces.

Everything is getting better. For her. Not for him.

The moment he went inside the empty apartment, he felt like breaking down. This is harder than the time she left. He missed her. He’s a wreck without her. A huge mess. Why is he taken over by his jealousy? She deserves to be the center of the relationship. The star. She deserves the whole world. Is it too late for him to get everything back now? He took his phone as a song on the radio played, “Mark, I need your help.”

Another award show meant another chance to cross paths with her. To Y/N’s surprise, Yuta congratulated her with a wide smile after winning an award. The staffs were repeatedly asking if the members were sure of doing this that made the manager and the leader nod. Johnny was seated in front of the grand piano, Mark on one side with his guitar. Taeil, Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Yuta seated on different chairs in the middle of the stage. (Song)

Johnny started the melody while Mark played his guitar. Jaehyun started the song that made Y/N look at them from the artists’ place. Yuta smiled. Her favorite band. Taeil started singing the chorus with Yuta as back-up vocals. Doyoung sang the second verse while Jaehyun sang the chorus, followed by Taeil. By the end of the song, they lightly glance at Yuta. His last cry for her.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house with the ghost of you

And I chase it down, with the shot of truth

He glanced at her, staring straight to those sparkling eyes.

That my feet don’t dance like they did with you

The lights dim but he saw her silhouette remain on her seat, shoulders visibly heaving. Behind the spotlight, Yuta finally realized that like a ghost, he cannot shake her off. She’ll keep haunting him because he cannot let go of her. Yuta finally realized that he is still in love with her.

They had been busy with the concerts abroad and she had been busy with the promotion of her album. Yuta’s co-host quit the radio show and days later, it was announced that she was pregnant. The members were surprised at first but it was her who confirmed that Yuta isn’t the father of the child. The public sympathy went to Yuta for the alleged cheating that the girl had done, making him in the center of the media frenzy once again.

It was a Japanese radio show when he met Y/N again. He had to promote the Japanese leg of their concert while she promoted her Japanese single. She looked casual greeting him, as if nothing happened but her words echoed in his ears “It’s just work, Yuta.” Maybe it was really nothing to her.

They were seated next to each other. He watched her put on her headphones then rubbed her palms together. “I kinda forgot Japanese.” she claimed then said a Japanese phrase to introduce herself. “Is that right?” He nodded, his warm gaze still on hers. Too casual. “I’m nervous.”

He wanted to hug her. Comfort her. Tell her that everything will be alright. That he’s next to her so she doesn’t have to worry about anything.

But he can’t. She’s not his.

The host kept on claiming that they looked good together that startled them both. When the staff told him something in Japanese, he kept on apologizing while saying that he doesn’t know that they used to date. She just smiled, shaking her head to avoid the awkwardness. She really did move on. The radio show went smoothly until the last part where they had to sing a duet together. Y/N was obviously surprised. Didn’t she know? “We can skip it if you don’t want to.” Yuta whispered.

Once again she shook her head. “It’s fine. I just haven’t prepared for it.” she claimed while looking at the music sheet. “The notes are a little high.”

“You’ll do great. Your singing got better.” She giggled at the reference and he smiled. He missed her laugh.

Y/N focused on the lyrics, asking the translator to tell her what the words mean or how to pronounce it. Yuta was reading the lyrics, seated next to her when she laughed. “Yuta,” she called and he felt his heart jump from his chest. He missed her voice calling his name. “Should we switch parts?” He looked surprised, curious even. “I mean, the lyrics.”

Yuta smiled. “Should we?”

Y/N giggled. “Sometimes I am convinced they’re doing this on purpose.” He smiled while looking at her. He missed her. So much.

The host was asking repeatedly if they want to continue this, apologizing if it ever makes them uncomfortable but she would just smile and shake her head. He thanked her for being professional and she grinned, making Yuta breathless. He missed her smile.

They were introduced and she even made a fighting sign at him as the melody started. It was a lonely song and Yuta poured all his feelings on his part. (This is the song they used. Dude, can they just remaster it by asking Yuta to sing this?)

Long time no see

His eyes turned to her. He missed everything about her.

We cannot express how we feel

Breath echoes in our ears

The radio show staff all turned to them in surprise.

My dear, you’ve already found a new love

She turned to him with her sparkling eyes.

There is no one like you

I am cheating my heart

He sang while staring at her. She even missed the first beat of her part then smiled while looking at the music sheet in front of them. The bridge of the song came and the staff looked in awe at both of them.

But you are not mine anymore

They stared at each other while singing those words. By the end of the song, Y/N’s voice was breaking so she stepped farther from the mic immediately. A smile escaped her lips when the host asked if she’s alright, apologizing that she ruined the song. Everyone were giving them compliments, fans commenting on how amazing they deliver the song and wishing that they can do a collab in the future.

“Y/N,” Yuta called on the hallways of the building. He breathed hard while she just nodded at her manager, asking her to go first. “I…” He started but the words cannot come out of his mouth. I’m sorry. My ego got the worst of me. My insecurity caused our fall. I’m a wreck without you. Please come back to me.

“Let’s not talk about it, Yuta.” She said while shaking her head. “We were immature. We’re so used to each other that we took each other for granted.” She grinned once again, eyes sparkling. Upon closer look, he figured out why. Her tears were forming. Like little pearls in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Yuta.” The words he cannot tell her. “Let’s be happy, hmm?”

Yuta smiled, taking the hand she held out. “Can I call you when I am feeling miserable?”

The girl laughed. “My number didn’t change.” She claimed. “And I still have to give you my thank message.”

He pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms. “I missed you, Y/N.”

------

Fans were delighted seeing Y/N and Yuta seated next to each other in the V-live account. A thing they always do every year on their anniversary. She was smiling, her lovely smile, while waving at the camera. Yuta adjusted the camera to capture them both before smiling his angelic smile.

“I didn’t know your V-live account still works even if it isn’t used for a year.” She claimed, leaning in to read some comments. “I also didn’t know that there are still fans who come in this V-live account.” The number of watching people raised up that startled even Yuta.

They both introduced themselves in a lively manner before the NCT member explained that they did this V-live as a thank you to fans who trended the song they sang in Japan. “I didn’t know that it would blow up like this.” He claimed and she nodded, even laughing at how embarrassing it is that her voice broke in the end.

They started reading some comments about how fans missed them together, that they look together, and that their playfulness as a couple came back. “Are you back together?” Yuta read, pointing at the comment.

“We’re not together together,” Y/N started then emphasized the last word with air quote marks. “We’re just…” She lightly glanced at him who was looking at her, mirroring the same smile she had. “Just patching things up and fixing ourselves.” Yuta continued for her.

“Is there a possibility of a come back?”

Y/N giggled before pointing at Yuta. “NCT is coming back with a new album. I’m preparing for a fall comeback.” The guy laughed at that. “Yuta, do you want to be featured in my album?”

He nodded immediately. “Will you write me a love song?”

She grinned, shaking her head playfully. “I’m not gonna write you a love song~” she sang before laughing. Yuta chuckled, poking her side playfully. “But we’ll see.”

The fan asked what they had been up to. Y/N shared that she’s writing songs for her album and Yuta saying that he hangs out with the members often and the preparations for their comeback. “I’ve been hanging out with Jaehyun a lot.” he claimed, “I’ve been liking his music choices lately.”

“You’re already done with your rocker state?” She asked, feigning a shock. “What song have you been listening to lately?”

Yuta smiled, taking his phone out of his pocket. He played the song and Y/N smiled that there’s still a rockish feel on it. (Song)

Oh, all my emotions feel like explosions when you are around

Yuta mouthed the words, trying to look for comments but his gaze was on her while jamming on the song. A smile crept his lips and he saw how one fan pointed out that he’s so in love with her. He is.

“This song is so nice.”

“Honestly, it kinda reminds me of you.”

He’s singing ‘She’s a, She’s a lady And I am just a boy’

He’s singing ‘She’s a, She’s a lady’ And I am just a line without a hook’

Oh baby, I am a wreck when I’m without you I need you here to stay

She looked surprised when Yuta sang the lines of the songs. The side of his lips curled up when he saw the sparkle back in her eyes. They talked a bit about what fans should watch out from their respective schedules. They said goodbye in a lively manner before Yuta ended the V-live.

Y/N leaned on the couch, breathing heavily. She lightly glanced at Yuta and he smiled. “Want to get some sushi?” She nodded, grinning widely.

Yuta cannot shake her off. Like a ghost, she will keep haunting him. And hopefully, she can come back to him.

#hotpinklists #yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta angst #yuta nakamoto angst #nakamoto yuta angst

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Born to Run

Warnings: dark elements including noncon and rape, fingering, kidnapping, guns, and other explicit content.

This is dark!Frank Castle and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are forced onto the road when an unwanted passenger gets in your backseat.

Note: So I’m gonna tag @allaboardthereadingrailroad because I promised them I’d write Frank and I finally got to it and it was loads of fun!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You sighed as you rolled to a stop behind the yellow taxi. You craned your neck to try to see around the lines of cars, another deadlock in New York traffic. You couldn’t be surprised as you idled in one spot and leaned your hand on the wheel as you checked the time.

You heard a siren, saw lights flashing ahead, and heard shouts. Again, not unusual for the city.

You rubbed your forehead as the sun beat down through your window and the humidity built as it leaked in through your open window. You tried not to use the AC too much as it made your old Chrysler overheat in the annual New York heatwave. You shifted in your seat and pulled against the belt as you tried once more to peer past the crowded vehicles.

You heard heavy footsteps, several sets echoing from all directions. A figure appeared on the other side of your car and the back door was ripped open. The man ducked as he slammed the door behind him and laid across the seat. He rolled down onto the floor, a sudden invasion that shocked you.

“What the fuck--get out of my car!” you snarled.

“Honey, you’re gonna wanna keep it down,” he said as his large body barely fit in the crevice between the seats.

“What--”

He poked a gun up towards you and waved it, “eyes forward,” he said, “hands on the wheel, and turn the music up.”

“I don’t have any money--”

“I don’t want your money now shut up,” he hissed, “now you keep it up and I’ll blow a hole through your seat… pity you’re on the other side.”

Your adrenaline spiked and the pounding in your temples deafened you. You turned the knob of the radio to drown out the pulsing and the man’s ragged breaths. Several others appeared, several dressed as officers and few in civilian clothing. You grasped the wheel and made yourself stare at the license plate ahead of you.

The search party dispersed as they called out to each other and the cab slowly crawled forward. The man squinted up through the window as the cars around you began to move as well.

“Drive,” he said.

“What do you want?” you asked shakily as you pressed lightly on the gas.

“To do what I tell you,” he barked and wiggled uncomfortably on the floor, “you keep driving until you’re out of the city and then maybe we’ll talk.”

“It’s rush hour, that could take ages,” you huffed.

“So take ages,” he growled, “you don’t stop ‘til I tell you, got it?”

You nodded and cleared your throat, “uh huh,” you looked in your rearview as a gunshot rang, “exit?”

“Whatever gets you out of New York now shut up and drive.”

You did as he said. You made your way at a snail’s pace until traffic began to thin out and you turned away from your usual route.

“Tell me what street you’re on when you turn,” he ordered, “don’t fuck around with me.”

You looked at the sign and read it aloud. You followed a silver Civic to the next and again recited the name on the dented sign. You checked the clock again. Your meeting would have already started, that was probably why your bag wouldn’t stop vibrating.

“Give me your phone,” he said. You reached over blindly and grabbed your purse. You dropped it to him and he quickly unzipped it, “roll the window down,” again, you obeyed as you recalled the sight of the gun.

He pulled apart your phone and you glanced back over your shoulder. He had the back of and the battery in his hand. “Hey--”

“Keep your eyes on the road,” he flung the battery out the window and bent the phone in half. He tossed it too and righted his gun to aim over the console, “go on.”

“You can take the car, please… people will look for me,” you pleaded.

“Not for a while,” he laid back and gripped the gun, “now someone sees you arguing with your windshield and they gonna get curious so shut up and enjoy the… is that music?”

You changed the station with a flick of your finger, you barely registered the smoky tones of Springsteen as you focused on steering and reading out the street names. Your veins burned as our blood pumped wildly from your racing heart and the man’s scent tickled your nostrils; he smelled of blood and sweat. You hoped he didn’t add your own to the stains on his jeans.

💀

It was dark as your car dinged. You swore and looked ahead for a sign. You shook your head and blew out a long breath.

“I need gas,” you said to the phantom in the back seat.

He grunted as he pushed himself up from the floor and sat up, “gotta be a station close.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“Then we get out and push,” he scoffed, “stop worrying about ‘if’ and find us a station.”

You rolled your eyes. The man was annoying, even if he was terrifying. You scratched your nose and sat forward with a yawn. “I’d know if you hadn’t destroyed my phone.”

“See, right up there,” he ignored your gripe, “yellow sign just ahead.”

“Christ,” you huffed and blinked at the black road.

“I’m sure you had some real important business,” he grumbled, “but I’m sure the coffee can make itself.”

“Excuse me? Fuck off, I’m not some--”

“You’re gonna miss your turn,” he warned and you flipped your signal on.

You pulled into the station and he scooped up your purse. You shut the car off and unbuckled your belt. You twisted in your seat to watch him search your purse. He pulled out your wallet and counted the bills inside.

“Right, we fill up then we’re back to it,” he opened the door and stepped out.

He uncapped your tank and pulled a hose from the meter. He slid it into the slot and kept a hand lazily on the handle. You slowly opened your door and got out. You looked at him over the top of the car as he scowled at you, it was the first good look you got at him.

His dark hair was shaved on the side but he had about and inch or two up top, his nose was crooked, and his dark eyes were set beneath a forehead that betrayed a frequent grimace. You looked at the lights of the station then back at him.

“I gotta… go pee,” you said.

“You wait,” he said, “I’ll go with you.”

“What?”

“You think I’m stupid?” He released the level and tapped the nozzle as he pulled it out, “hold your horses, I’m comin’.”

He put the hose back in and stomped over to you. You saw the gun tucked into his belt and he pulled his jacket over it. He snatched the keys from you and grabbed your arm and marched you to the blazing door of the station.

“You have one minute before I come in and drag you out, pants down or not,” he tore open the door and shoved you through.

You curled your lip as he took a few sticks of jerky from a display and approached the counter. As you got to the sign over the restroom, you looked back as he stared at you. He raised a thick brow and tapped his wrist as if he wore a watch; he did not.

You went into the bathroom and locked the heavy door behind you. You looked around the grimy room and shuddered at the stained toilet bowl. You stepped up on the seat and looked out the small window above. It might be big enough if you suck in.

You stepped on the pipe beside the handle and pushed on the pain. It was just as gross as the rest of the room. The pane finally popped out and you hauled yourself over the high ledge. The glass didn’t quite open wide enough so you had to bend as you wiggled through. You had a high chance of landing on your head but you really didn’t want to chance worse with that man.

You kicked as you were lodged halfway through the window and a knock came at the door, “better pull your pants up,” your abductor called through the door.

You struggled to force yourself through as you tried to angle your hips past the frame. The door burst open with a frightening kick and you flailed your legs as you tried to hit the man blindly and keep him away. He caught your ankles and pulled you back. You cried out and grabbed the window frame so that you didn’t crash down into the toilet.

“Hey, let me go,” you tried to kick him again and he batted away your foot.

“You do that again and you won’t have a safe landing,” he tugged again and you nearly lost your grip on the ledge, “now come on.”

“You got my wallet, my keys, everything, so why don’t you just leave me--”

“Don’t make me count,” he sounded like a father.

“Count? Oh, come on, what am I gonna do? Just let me go.”

“Three,” he swung you just a little, “two,” he gripped your legs firmly, “O--”

“Okay!” you shouted, “okay, just-- let me down.”

Cautiously he bent and put your feet on the floor. He stood and you pushed yourself straight. He grabbed your arm and spun you to face him. He bent and rammed his shoulder into your stomach as he scooped you up. You yiped and pounded on his back as he turned and carried you out of the restroom.

As he strutted down the aisle, the clerk stared at you in confusion. The man reached the door and paused, “on her rag, she gets a bit pissy.” He left the store with a chime and carried you across the lot, “you want the trunk or are you gonna be good?”

You pulled on the back of his jacket and gritted your teeth, “would you put me down?”

“I won’t ask again so either you choose or I do,” he said as he neared the car.

“Alright, alright,” you snarled as he popped the trunk, “I’ll be good just don’t-- not in there.”

He harrumphed and walked around to close the trunk. He brought you up to the passenger side and dropped you on your feet. Dizzy, you grabbed onto the car and he ripped the door open, narrowly missing you with it.

“In,” he pointed to the seat.

You glared at him and stepped under his arm. You sat and he closed the door with a snap. He rounded the hood and the car dipped as he sat in the driver’s seat. He fumbled with keys and shoved them in the slot. He turned the ignition and shifted in the seat.

He took a stick of jerky from his pocket and peeled the plastic. He took a bite as he put the car in drive. He pulled out with one hand on the wheel and chewed noisily and he siphoned through the radio station with his greasy finger. You buckled your seatbelt out of habit and crossed your arms.

“Get some shut-eye,” he gristled, “you’ll be drivin’ once the sun comes up.”

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” you groaned.

“Dunno, far,” he answered bluntly, “no talk, just sleep.”

“I’m not a dog,” you muttered.

“Keep actin’ like one and I’ll get you a leash,” he snorted.

“I really don’t get why you don’t just take the car--”

“As useless as I’d agree you are, you’ve seen my face and the longer I keep you from running back and snitching, the better chance I got,” he adjusted the seat as he chewed the last of the salted meat, “but there is another option?”

“There is?” you asked.

“Yeah, I could kill you,” he chuckled.

You swallowed and exhaled as you leaned your head back heavily. You peeked over at him as he focused on the road and as much as you wanted to leap from the moving car, you knew that would be just as fatal. So you huddled down and closed your eyes.

“Would you turn that down?” you nodded at the radio.

“You askin’ me to turn down a classic?” he turned the knob and Robert Plant’s voice whined from the speakers, “a nice little lullaby for you.”

You closed your eyes and turned in the seat so that you faced the door, the belt strained against you awkwardly but you didn’t care. You crossed your legs and tried to drown out the music. Even without the racket, you wouldn’t sleep easy.

💀

You woke after hours of uncomfortable sleep in the car seat. The car was still as you yawned and groaned as your stiff muscles rebelled. You sat up as you heard the sound of water hitting the dirt. The man was just outside with his back to you, pissing on the side of the road.

You looked to the ignition but the keys weren’t there. He finished up and zipped up noisily. He opened the door and bent to look at you. He kept his hand on the door as his eyes met yours.

“Get out, stretch your legs, you gotta piss, there’s a bush,” he jabbed his other thumb behind him.

“Really?”

“Or you can keep holding it,” he shrugged and closed the door. He walked around the front of the car and pushed an arm over his head to stretch his shoulder. You took a breath as your irritation bubbled and reached for the door handle.

You got out and held in a grunt. You walked around the back of the car and glanced around. The bush was small and poor cover. Even so, you really had to go as you spent your only opportunity trying to sneak out of the station. You looked at him and neared the leafy bunch. He blinked at you and turned his back.

“I hear any funny business,” he said over his shoulder, “you can piss your pants instead.”

You shoved your pants down and squatted. You let out a steady stream and almost sighed as the pressure left your pelvis. When you finished, you waited until you were relatively dry and pulled your pants back up.

“All done,” you said as you went back to the car. He shook his head and pointed you to his side.

“You drive, sign says there’s a motel about an hour down the road,” he opened the driver’s door.

You got in and he snapped the door shut before he went to the other side. He settled in the seat and slid the keys into the ignition, turning it until the engine rumbled. He leaned back and pushed his fingers back against his palm.

“Right, let’s go.”

You sniffed and pulled back onto the empty highway. You’d never been down that one before, an old country road with sparse exits. He pushed on his jaw until his neck snapped and you winced. You hated the noise.

“So, what do I call you then?” you asked.

He was silent and you felt him watching you, “like you care.”

“I don’t but looks like I’m stuck with you, so…”

“Mmm,” he pulled out some more jerky, “Frank.”

You nodded and stared at the endless road ahead. He said your name before you could.

“Saw it in your wallet,” he explained.

You drove in silence from there until he flipped the radio on. He chose a country station and you silently cursed his taste. You followed the signs and he pointed you to the old motel as you approached it. You thought of hitting the gas but that would do nothing but piss him off and probably get you hurt. Worse, you’d be stuck in the car with him for who knew how long.

You steered into the lot and he yanked the keys out of the ignition before you could. You mirrored him as he got out but he stomped over to your side. He leaned in as he lowered his voice.

“You can play along,” he pushed his jacket open and showed the butt of his gun, “or there’s still room in the trunk.”

“Fine,” you muttered.

“I mean it, you try anything,” he rested his hand on the gun, “you really wanna get someone else hurt?”

You nodded and chewed your lip, “I get it, okay?”

He pulled his jacket closed again and took your elbow, ushering you up to the front of the motel. You wriggled away as you reached the door and entered ahead of him. He drew you back as he followed you through the door and cleared his throat. The woman at the front desk looked up over her glasses and set aside the novel with a shirtless man on the cover.

“Good afternoon,” she sang as she swiveled in her chair, “how can I help you two today?”

“We need a room,” Frank said as he pulled out a wad of money.

“Deposit’s three-hundred, sir,” the woman replied, “can I get a name?”

“Ben Tacker,” he lied smoothly as he counted out the money.

“Alright, and a piece of ID?” she asked.

“Funny thing,” he peeled a fifty free and held it over the desk to her, “I lost it.”

She stared at him and slowly took the bill. She shoved it in her pocket and counted the rest out. She handed him a paper to sign and he scribbled without caring. She handed him the key and he thanked her in the same gruff voice.

“You two have fun,” she called after him as he swung open the door and waved you out.

He chuckled and shook his head, “sure will,” he said before the door shut again.

He looked at the number on the tag and led you to the door with the same. He unlocked it and waited for you to enter. The lock clicked as he trailed you and brushed past you as he went to the closet. You watched in confusion as he pulled out a stack of extra bedding and shared shredding the tinged top sheet.

He took one of the strips as he neared you. You backed up against the door and he wrenched you away as he pulled the single chair up behind you. He sat you down and held your wrist against the narrow arm of the chair. As he began to wind the strip around your wrist, you twisted and he squeezed so hard your fingers went numb.

“Can’t trust ya but I gotta get some sleep,” he growled as he finished tying your first hand. He went back and took another strip of linen, he repeated the process on your other arm and both your legs.

“And what if I have to pee?” you pulled against the bounds but only added to your discomfort.

“Hold it,” he shrugged and took the remote. He flipped on the television and pushed the control into your hand, “there. I don’t wanna hear another word.”

“You’re not serious? You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“I coulda left you in the trunk,” he turned and walked around the foot of the bed, he plopped down with a sigh, “you should be thanking me?”

He untied his boots and kicked them off. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the far side of the bed. He set the gun on the table beside the lamp and stretched his arms behind his head. As he laid back, he shifted awkwardly and dug in his pocket, he tossed your credit card up onto the table with a flick.

“Now, don’t go pullin’ shit or we won’t get that deposit back,” he groaned as he wiggled to get comfortable, “not my money so I don’t really care either way.”

“You… asshole,” you huffed and he smirked.

“I think an asshole woulda just taken the car,” he said, “and left you with a hole in your head.”

You clamped your lips together and shook your head. You hit a button and searched through the channels. You didn’t really care what you watched, you wouldn’t be able to pay attention anyway. You stopped at an old episode of NewsRadio and let the remote rest on the end of the arm.

The laugh track filled the interminable silence and after some time, low snores rose from the bed. You peeked over at Frank, his arm slung over his face as his chest rose and fell steadily. He might be irritating but you had enough sense to be afraid of him. If you had to guess, he was ex-military and judging by your inopportune meeting, he was also a wanted man.

You fidgeted as much as you could in the chair and turned back to the screen. It was as if the recorded guffaws were at your expense. You slumped as the cotton chafed around your wrists and yawned. Your back was still stiff from your nap in the car and the chair was little better with its thin pleather cushioning and short back.

💀

You didn’t remember falling asleep, not until you woke up in terrible pain. Your head hung over as you were nearly folded over your lap entirely, your bound arms holding you just above. You groaned as you pushed yourself up and it sent a pang up your neck. You heard the rattle of pipes and looked over at the empty bed.

You let out a strained breath and moved your head side to side, just slightly as the pain lingered and throbbed with each pivot. You balled your hands in fists and tried to twist your arms against the linen. You flexed your legs too, wiggling your feet as you tried to loosen the ties.

The chair began to rock as you fought against your restraints. The remote fell to the floor and the television kept blaring. As you were sure you just needed a little more, the chair tipped and you bounced off the side of the bed as it crashed down onto its side. The impact had your head spinning and shower faucet squeaked off.

You kept moving your arms and legs, desperate to free yourself before he could discover you. There was no hiding your intent anymore. The bathroom door opened and your heart swelled. Shit. You hissed as you heard his footsteps and looked up as his shadow loomed over you.

Frank stood in nothing but a towel, his thickly muscles torso still damp as he glared down at you. You cringed and tried not to see more than you wanted.

“I gotta take a leak,” you lied, well, not exactly untrue.

“Uh huh,” he hummed doubtfully and grabbed the chair.

He hauled you back up and planted the chair back in place. He shook his head at you and retreated. He pulled one of the white robes from the hook on the wall and pulled it over the towel. He tied the belt tightly and dropped the other layer before he disappeared back into the bathroom.

When he emerged again, you watched him dully, “I really do have to go,” you said.

He ignored you and checked his gun. He slid open the drawer and set it inside.

“Well,” he came around the bed, “I got some bad news for you, There’s no window in there,” he grabbed the strip around your left wrist and unknotted it, “so, I’ll give you two minutes.”

He untied you and watched as you rubbed your wrists. You stood with a wince as your legs ached but he didn’t back up. You sidled past him and he turned to keep his dark eyes on you as you approached the bathroom. You swung the door shut and nearly collapsed on the other side.

The bathroom smelled of the gardenia scented soap that came with the room and there was still moisture in the air. You relieved yourself quickly and stood to gaze into the mirror. You looked awful, you felt awful. You splashed your face with cold water and leaned heavily on the porcelain.

Whether you listened to that man or not, you were fairly certain the result would be the same. You could see it now, the black barrel of the gun, his finger on the trigger. You shuddered and shook out your hands as if to get rid of your nerves. You stood straight and groaned as you stretched out the knots in your limbs and back.

You went back into the hotel room as you rubbed your neck, the needling pain still buried at the base of your skull.

“Tell you what,” he said as he sat on the bed and aimed the remote at the screen, “I can tie you up again or you can make both our lives easier and just lay down.”

“Is there a third option?” you winced as another jolt went through your spine.

He snickered and pointed to the pillows, “we’re leavin’ early,” he said, “so you can sleep now or sleep in the car.”

You gave no response as you went around the other side of the bed. You eased yourself down against the pillow and let out an unwitting groan. It felt good to lay down. You turned onto your side, your face away from him, and he finally stopped switching stations.

You closed your eyes and hugged yourself as his weight rested at the bottom of the bed. It wasn’t hard to drift off as the pain chased you into unconsciousness and the stress of the last day shrouded your mind. You only hoped he wasn’t waiting for you in your dreams.

💀

The night's stay was taken out of the deposit and you were back on the road to nowhere. The man gave you gruff directions as he closed his eyes in the passenger seat. At night, you switched and you grew complacent as the endless travel wore on your wits. You didn't know why he wouldn't just let you go. He could take the car and the last of your money and just leave you alone. Likely the separation would be preferable to both parties.

Another motel after a week of driving and you were thankful to be standing still. You were asleep on your feet as you dragged your feet behind your grumpy captor and as you leaned on the front desk and bid farewell to even more of your cash, you barely processed the conversation happening around you.

Frank's arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you close. You flinched and sneered at him. You felt so gross, you didn’t want to be touched, let alone by him. The desk clerk handed him a key and chuckled.

“It’s been a long trip,” Frank said, “think we just need some R and R.”

You blinked at him stupidly as he turned you around and swept you out the door. Outside, you shoved him away and stumbled as he laughed at your pathetic effort.

“What the fuck was that about?” you scowled.

“Well, you looked like you were about to keel over, just tryna keep you on your feet,” he jingled the keys and led you up to the second level.

“Don’t do that again,” you mumbled as you waited for him to unlock the door.

“Sure, honey,” he said mockingly as he slid the key out and kicked the door open, “come on.”

Just like last time, he locked the door and you looked around at the small room, a single queen and another rickety chair.

“Please, don’t,” you said as you crossed the room, “I’ll stay, just don’t tie me up. I need to lay down.”

“You need to wash the road off ya,” he quipped as he peeked into the bathroom, “ladies first.”

You stared at him and tilted your head. He might have kept you alive so far but you could hardly trust him. After all, you weren’t exactly there by choice. You tiptoed forward, warily eyeing him as you got closer. He stepped back and crossed his arms.

“You might not be able to smell ya but I can,” he nodded through the door, “ten minutes.”

You stepped inside and he snapped the door shut behind you. You sat on the toilet and rubbed your eyes. You looked down at your clothes, rumpled and stained with sweat and filth. You took a moment and stood to strip off the layers one at a time.

You cranked on the shower and stepped under the stream. The shower curtain rang as you pulled it around the tub and you basked in the hot water. It felt good and your muscles relaxed as rivulets trailed down your skin. You scrubbed with the vague floral scented soap and scrubbed until you felt a little more like yourself.

Reluctantly, you turned the faucet off and reached for the towel on the bar. You lowered your foot onto the tile and patted yourself as you stared at your blurred silhouette in the steamy mirror. A knock sounded at the door and had you wrapping yourself in the white cotton.

“Ay, they got some machines here,” his voice scratched, “should probably wash those rags up while we’re here.”

You tucked the towel in at the top and gathered up your clothes. You neared the door hesitantly and cracked it open. You peeked out at him as he watched you impatiently.

“Figure you can’t run naked… well, if you try, it won’t be so easy,” he remarked. You shoved your clothes through wordlessly, “there’s some robes out here when you’re done with your sauna, princess.”

You rolled your eyes and shut the door. You heard him chuckle and move around the room as he grumbled under his breath. You waited for the other door to open and close before you emerged.

You took the robe folded over the bottom of the bed and tied the belt tight around your waist. You sat on the bed, your back to the frame and switched on the television. You thought of running but he was right, even if you eluded him, you doubted there were many who wouldn’t do worse to a barely clothed woman, not out there in the middle of nowhere.

He returned shortly and dropped a haul of processed foods on the bed from the vending machines. He wore a robe as well but it was smaller on him and the flimsy white slippers provided with the room. He shuffled through his trove of salt and sugar.

He took the two cups and placed them on the small round table and filled the kettle from the bathroom sink. He plugged it in and flipped the switch. “Hope you like chicken noodle,” he said.

You read the guide on the TV and punched in the channel playing re-runs of Law and Order. It was a grim choice but you just needed to disassociate from the dingy motel. The kettle clicked and his shadow flickered in your peripheral. Frank sat and the mattress dipped beside you. He held out a steaming cup with a plastic spoon sticking out of it.

“Thanks,” you took it and leaned back as you stirred the boiling soup.

“We’ll grab some burgers at the next stop,” he grizzled, “Fuckin’ starvin’.”

You said nothing and stared at the lawyers arguing on screen with the detectives. They were trying to figure out how a woman ended up in a motel with marks around her neck; dead. A chill went through you and you slowly glanced over at the man beside you.

He squinted and returned your gaze. His mouth slanted and he shook his head, “really?” he challenged nonchalantly.

You took a deep breath and turned back to the screen. You sipped at the hot broth and scooped up noodles as you tried not to think about being strangled to death on the bathroom floor.

When you finished, you set the empty cup aside and slid under the covers as the afterglow of the shower weighed down your limbs. You just wanted to sleep. If he did decide to kill you then, you wouldn’t even know the difference.

He grabbed a candy bar from the mess and sat back, jarring the whole bed as he did. You rolled onto your side and pulled a pillow over your head. You squeezed your eyelids shut and tuned out the old tube television and the chewing of the man behind you. Sleep crept up on you in haze, half-aware of the muffled voices and the movement on the other side of the bed.

You pushed the pillow away as it grew warm beneath and sleepily pulled it under your head. You heard the distant noise of the pipes. Groggy, you sank back into a shallow sleep as the constant noise lulled you.

You were disturbed again when you were jostled and the television shut off. You felt him behind you and wiggled closer to the edge. He barely seemed bothered as he stretched out and you felt the heat radiating from his body. You drifted off once more, dreaming about the eternal highway and Frank’s bristly orders.

You snorted awake, this time from a haze so deep it felt as if you’d been drowning. You felt the arm over the middle, heavy and firm, and the hot breath on your neck. Your lashes fluttered, threatening to close again, but your adrenaline forced your eyes open.

He was flush to your back, his hard body against your back as his hand was slid into the opening of your robe. His rough fingertips rested against your soft torso, just beneath your breast.

“Frank,” you rasped and tugged on his wrist, “the fuck are you doing?”

He groaned and shushed you as he nestled closer. You went rigid as you felt a prod against your ass. You grabbed him more firmly but could not move his hand as he squeezed you tighter. His hand glided up against your resistance and he cupped your chest. You gasped and pulled at his long fingers.

“Frank, get your fuckin’ hands off of me--”

He ignored you and rolled his thumb over your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat and tried to push yourself up. He held you down as he snaked his other arm beneath your.

“Honey, just relax,” he said drowsily, “I ain’t hurtin’ ya.”

“Get off!” you slapped the back of his hand.

“Mmmm,” he purred and nuzzled the back of your head, “you smell like flowers.”

“Frank--”

“What else are we gonna do, honey?” he asked and his breath tickled your ear, “hmmm.”

He nibbled at your lobe and a chill went through you. You pressed your hands to his and knew he could feel the frantic beating of your heart. You shivered as his arousal poked against you again. You gulped and gasped as suddenly rolled onto his back and pulled you up onto him.

Your robe fell loose as you laid atop him, your back to his hard torso as his other hand roved lower. You squirmed and grasped at his wrists. He easily ignored you as he kneaded your tit and his other hand slid along your vee. You held your breath and pushed your legs together.

“That’s your problem, you just need to let go,” he hummed and brushed his fingertips down the line of your leg, “come on and open up for me.”

You shook your head against his shoulder and he pinched your thigh. You yelped and he did it again. You hit his hand and he laughed, a deep rumble that flowed through you. He dug his nails into your flesh as he continued to fondle your chest with his other hand.

You whimpered as he threatened to break the skin and let your legs fall open around his. He slid his fingers between your folds and over your clit. You gasped and he swirled his fingertips, sending a bolt of electricity through you. You gripped his thick wrist and gritted your teeth as you tried to resist the fire in your core.

“What d’ya think you’re still around for, huh?” he slithered as he poked around your cunt, pressing his fingers to your entrance.

You murmured a weak protest as your eyes rolled up and you stared at the wall above the bed. You huffed between your teeth as he shoved two fingers inside you. You clenched around them and your nerves rippled with the wave of pleasure.

His palm rubbed against your clit as he rocked his hand slowly and you shook your head, fighting the unwelcome thrumming as it pulsed deep within you.

His fingers slipped easily in and out of you as you slickened and reached back unthinkingly to curl your fingers into his sides. He moved his hand faster, the friction building to a spark. You closed your eyes as your nails pressed against his muscles and your legs bent around his.

You spasmed as you came, your surrender declared with a pathetic squeak. He didn’t stop until you were panting uncontrollably, your head lolling on his shoulder as you bit the tip of your tongue. When he pulled his fingers out, you whined at the sudden emptiness.

He rubbed his wet fingers along your cunt and spread your lips as he snaked his other hand beneath your leg. He tore open the tails of his robe and angled his tip against your opening. He urged you onto him, sliding you down his body until your back arched to accept him. You moaned as he entered you and the overwhelming fullness fueled your helpless voice.

“Hmm, honey,” her purred as his hot breath touched your scalp, “just what you needed, isn’t it?”

You sputtered as he moved his hips beneath you, rocking into you from below as he planted his feet in the mattress. He lifted you carefully and kept an arm around your middle as his other toyed with your sensitive bud. His thick breaths clouded around you as he moved your body in time with his.

He hooked his arm around around your left leg and pulled it higher, doing the same with your right as he fucked you harder. He reached from below to keep his thumb on your clit, your legs folded against your chest. He growled in your ear and bit the lobe again. You clawed at the blanket below him as he used you so easily, your shame smothered by your pleasure.

You orgasmed again and as your walls clenched around him, he groaned and his legs slipped down straight. He turned onto his side and quickly rolled you onto your stomach as he forced your legs down. He pinned you beneath him, weaving his arm through yours as he pulled them back as his twined his fingers behind your head.

He kept you pinned beneath him as his flesh clapped against yours loudly. You moans seeped into the pillow and his animalistic grunts punctuated each thrust. The bed shook beneath your bodies and he pushed his thigh up around yours. He sat up, still bucking his hips as he pulled your arms back and forced you to arch with him.

He gripped your elbows as he hammered into you. Your moans turned to whines as he pounded your walls and you gulped down air desperately. He growled and you felt his body tense as his hold on you broke. He shoved your head down against the pillow, almost suffocating you as he once more sped up.

He snarled and his motion grew spasmodic. He slowed and his hips jolted into you in jagged thrust. He emptied himself into you as his long fingers stretched over your scalp. Finally, he stopped, still straddling you as he heaved a shaky sigh. He sniffed and trembled as he ran his hand down your back.

“Really makes me happy I didn’t put a bullet in ya,” he rasped, “real…” he squeezed your hips and pushed in as deep as he could go, “happy.”

#frank castle #dark frank castle #dark!frank castle #frank castle x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the punisher #marvel #one shot

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jaehyunfirstlove · 3 years

Text

Nonstop - Ch. 1

After making a name for himself as only the second rookie in the history of the sport to win the championship, Jeong Jaehyun has an insatiable thirst for victory. Written off by his detractors as a stroke of luck, he’s determined to prove them wrong, embarking on a reckless quest to win another championship, regardless of the lives he may ruin, including his own. You haven’t been a part of his life for a long time, but you’ve been the only one who could reason with him. Can you save him from himself, or is it too late?

Pairing: racer!jaehyun x ex-girlfriend!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers, motoGP au, smut (18+ only)

Warnings: implied emotional manipulation, bad father-son relationship (i’m sorry mr. jeong), descriptions of racing accidents, racing injuries, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing

Chapter warnings: none

Total word count: 13.9k

Chapter word count: 1k

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77 @mrg-jjh @keeach (send me a message if you want to be tagged in future fics)

A/N: i want to apologize first and foremost for how long this got, and how it may read like a k-drama at certain times. also my knowledge is mostly in F1, so if i mix up terms please forgive me. this is dedicated to all the motoGP fans out there, and everyone who responded to my informal poll, hope you all like it!

Disclaimer: i am not a medical professional or a motoGP expert, so please excuse any inconsistencies.

“That was a dangerous move and you know it!” Taeyong was furious, rounding on Jaehyun as he got off his bike, the mechanics descending upon it.

“Relax, it worked, didn’t it?” Jaehyun just smirked. He removed his helmet and shook his hair out, wanting to make sure he looked good for the victory podium.

“You can’t keep going on like this, Jaehyun,” Taeyong wouldn’t back down, grabbing Jaehyun by the shoulders to force him to look at him. “At the rate you’re going you’ll hurt yourself, and be a danger to the other riders.”

Jaehyun just removed Taeyong’s hands from his shoulders, before leveling him with a cold look. “I didn’t hire you to care about that stuff. Just do your job and I’ll do mine, which is winning.”

The mechanics surrounded him at that point, whooping and cheering, steering him towards the podium where he would celebrate his fourth straight victory that season. Taeyong stayed behind, shaking his head, filled with worry at the downward spiral his friend was going on.

Jaehyun always had a passion for winning, a competitive streak that existed in him long before he took up racing, but the intensity had ramped up this season. After he won his first championship as a rookie last season, many chalked it up to luck, and the fact that his father owned the team and therefore he got all the advantages. He’d been determined to prove everyone wrong, becoming more aggressive in his racing style, and taking risks he’d never taken before.

Taeyong had agreed to be Jaehyun’s manager when he’d asked him, since they had been lifelong friends and Taeyong knew him best. And now, Taeyong was seeing a change in his friend that was really starting to concern him.

---

You were just getting ready for bed when your phone rang, which was odd since no one you knew would normally call at that time of night. When you looked at your phone it was an international number that you didn’t recognize, and you almost ignored it, except you were really curious as to who it could be. Cautiously, you pressed answer, and heard a voice you hadn’t heard in a very long time.

“Y/N?”

“Oh my god, Taeyong!” you were filled with so many emotions at the sound of his voice, good and bad, mostly because he brought to mind your ex-boyfriend, Jaehyun.

“I’m so glad you’re awake, sorry to call so late,” he began, and his voice sounded hesitant, weary.

“It’s okay. What’s going on?” you asked, noting the anxiousness in his tone.

“I hate to bring this on you, I know you haven’t been a part of his life for a while,” he paused, and you knew exactly where this was headed.

“Is it about Jaehyun?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say, but he didn’t need to say more.

You and Jaehyun had been high school sweethearts, inseparable, until he had the opportunity to go abroad and train as a motogp racer. He’d agonized over the decision, partly because he didn’t want to leave you, but you reassured him that you’d be busy with college anyway, and that you could video call all the time and visit on breaks. You were confident that everything would work out, and in the beginning it did, but as time wore on, as college got more difficult and racing more intense, the stress of it all took its toll, and you were fighting more than anything else. You ended up being the one to break it off, and he hadn’t wanted to, you’ll never forget his face as he pleaded with you to talk it out with him, but even with your heart breaking you felt there wasn’t anything more to talk about. You hadn’t heard from him since.

Despite the pain of your breakup, you couldn’t help but follow his career, especially as his star rose. You had always been proud of him and his accomplishments, because you knew how hard he worked for them. You’d felt an insane burst of pride when he’d won his first championship as a rookie, but that turned to concern when you’d read in news stories about his change in racing style, the recklessness evident in it definitely worrisome for all involved.

“Y/N,” Taeyong continued, his voice soft, “I need you to know that you’re my last resort, I’ve tried everything to get through to him, but he just won’t listen to me. At the rate he’s going, well, I don’t need to tell you what could happen.”

You had always appreciated Taeyong’s honesty, clearly he was worried about his oldest friend. One of the things that you and Jaehyun had fought about was the dangers inherent in moto racing, an accident almost always fatal. He’d reassured you that safety was always his priority, but somewhere along the line that had been forgotten.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Taeyong,” your heart broke at the thought of Jaehyun risking his life on the track, but you didn’t know what influence you still had over him. “I doubt he’d listen to me now.”

Taeyong chuckled softly. “Y/N, we both know that you were the only person who could ever reason with him. He’d never listen to me, never listen to his parents, but you, well, you could argue that the world was flat and he’d end up agreeing with you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Taeyong’s words, but you were still unconvinced. “Still, I’m not sure…”

“Listen, Y/N, I’m desperate. This is a life and death situation now. If he can’t be talked down I’m pulling him off the team, and you know he’ll be devastated if he doesn’t get to race. It’s his life.” Taeyong spoke firmly, but you could hear the desperation in his voice. “All I ask is that you try, and if it doesn’t work, then he’s off the team.”

You thought about the years he’d worked hard to get to where he was, the sacrifices he’d made. You thought about how excited he got whenever he talked about it, how his voice would get higher and his actions more animated, his eyes sparkling. You could fight for him this one last time, it was the least you could do after breaking his heart.

“Okay, I’m in.”

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #nct imagines #nct smut

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mrpenguinpants · 4 years

Text

Childe/Tartaglia: Fiancé HCs

Aww, I give major points to anyone that actually reads my tags because it’s a whole lot of word vomit and brainworms. THIS IS MY FINAL OFFERING TO CHILDE SO BUDDY 👏 COME 👏 HOME 👏 This will probably be my last fic this week since I’m going to be busy with term tests and 1.1. Can you tell how slow I am with these asks?

I need to stop tagging so much because tumblr keeps making me repost...

This isn’t necessarily a part 2 from my other Childe fic [ “Enemies” to “Lovers” ] but you can go ahead and read it that way. Not sure if this counts for tags but it doesn’t hurt. To be honest, I was planning for this to be the direct part 2 but then his character story dropped and I got slapped in the face with inspiration.

[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea

---

Childe/Tartaglia: Fiancé HCs

Your relationship with Tartaglia is unorthodox to say the least. Usually, the average length of an engagement is 13 to 18 months but you didn’t need a calendar to tell you it’s been far longer than that. You probably spent more time with your fiancé’s sister than with the man himself but that was okay with you. Tonia was a really sweet girl and you knew what you were getting into when you accepted and returned his feelings when you two first started going out.

Before he became a Harbinger you were friend’s with him and Tonia. Almost everyone in Snezhnaya was part of the Fatui, working in factories, or a devote follower of Tsaritsa. So it was a breath of fresh air to meet two people that didn’t align themselves to that mindset or become a slave to work. You slowly became closer to the two siblings until the day a stuttering and pink Tartaglia confessed his feelings to you. You think back on that moment fondly since that was probably the first and last time you’ve seen him act in such a shy manner.

The day he proposed to you was the night right before he became a Harbinger. It wasn’t anything grand and you were pretty sure he hadn’t even told Tonia he was planning on proposing that very night. He said that he was waiting for the right moment and somehow felt the right moment was when you were in-between consciousness. When you couldn’t even give him a proper answer since he popped the question right as you fell asleep, but for all intensive purposes, that was probably on purpose. You had to chase him down in freezing cold weather, coat not even properly tied, as you yelled he was a piece of shit and that if he never came back you would hunt him down and kill him yourself.

He just grinned innocently and waved back to you as the ship departed. When asked by a curious merchant who wasn’t native to Snezhnaya asked if he had some...family issues he simply waved it off and said you were his beloved fiancé. The merchant was left very confused on Snezhnaya’s customs and traditions on marriage.

You both made an agreement that only he would write to you. He said that it was because trying to get in contact with him would be impossible, considering how often he moves, plus the different names he goes under. But in actuality, it’s because he want’s to keep the people closest to him as private as possible. The Fatui know of his sister already and most likely know of your existence but as long as he remains a Harbinger they can’t do anything. He won’t let them. But the Fatui have many enemies and while he hates denying your existence, if it’s to make sure you live a peaceful life with his sister, he’ll continue to pretend he’s never heard of your name before.

While he writes to his sister that he’s taking care of trivial matters when he’s on his assignment, he writes a bit more honestly and detailed in his hidden letters to you. You make sure to keep them in a box hidden away from Tonia so she never discovers them but you have an inkling she knows what her brother is up to. She watches the way your face pinches, that your fingers clutch the paper a little tighter, and how you seem to tap the page two times in sequence.

Despite the raging winter storms that swirl around Snezhnaya, you are always warm. He thinks you’re secretly a pyro vision user waiting for the right moment to make good on your word and burn him alive. Whenever his travel’s run late into the night and he arrives home tired and cold, he seeks Tonia’s room to make sure she’s sleeping peacefully. Then to you to do the same. Sometimes when you’re lucky and you wake up early, you’re greeted to Tartaglia clinging onto you refusing to move because you’re warm. Even going through daily routine’s he always has an arm around you or some part of his body against yours. You feel that his habits is rubbing off on his sister because slow morning’s like these see’s you as the human heater. With Tonia hugging you from the front, arms wrapped around your waist, while Tartaglia support’s from behind, arms around the both of you. Your hands laced with his as you both act as a shield for little Tonia.

Tartaglia’s hands are always numb. He could be in Natlan where it never snows or facing the harsh winters of Snezhnaya, they are always numb. As if the skin of his fingertips were scalded off. Touching anything gives him an uncomfortable sensation so he wears gloves all the time except for two occasions. When he need’s to replace his gloves with a new pair or to lace your hand into his. He can vaguely feel the heat from your hand, see that you don’t have the same callouses that he has from wielding weapons, and can feel the same tingling sensation that would usually have him wrenching his bare hand away if it had been anything or anyone else, besides his sister of course. Instead he holds on as if you’re his last lifeline in the middle of the ocean, commits to memory the feeling of your hand in his, and the pins and needles that prick his fingertips fade away.

He grows restless when life is ordinary and boring so he’s always off fighting or doing something completely dangerous. He was the same before he became a Harbinger which leads to some fights between the two of you. You both handle fight’s pretty badly due to the upbringing of Snezhnaya and it makes Tonia sad when she sees her family argue. So instead you convey your inner worries through taps. One is for annoyance. Two is for worry. Three is for anger. Likewise, Tartaglia has his own system.

On one rare occasion, Zhongli managed to catch the sight of a flicker of light on Tartaglia’s clothing. It confuses him since aren’t ring’s meant to be worn on the hand? The only response he get’s from Childe when he asks why is a vague answer filled with mirth. He say’s that he’s holding onto it for someone. Zhongli doesn’t quite understand since wouldn’t it be better to keep the ring in a box if it were meant for someone else? Childe wears a ring on his pinky already but it might be a Snezhnaya tradition to wear one ring on the hand, while the other is close to the heart.

He keeps his cheerful attitude on even when it feels as if the world is crushing him. That might be why he names himself Childe. But when it’s just the two of you he takes the mask off, the armor slips off, and let’s himself relax. Time’s like this he just wants to hold you and as he puts it, recharge.

For all his confident nature in fighting he knows that a committed relationship with him is hard. That if you ever want to walk away and find someone new he won’t stop you, but that you never contact him or his family. He won’t open his heart for another person for a long while or ever. He would still give you your ring and whatever you choose to do with it is up to you.

Tartaglia’s goals won’t change. He still has his family to take care of and even if you decide to leave, that doesn’t change the fact he still sees you as apart of his family.

You don’t mind if his goal takes him away from Snezhnaya for years and years. Or if the letter’s he writes become fewer and fewer. As long as he comes home you don’t mind waiting.

It’s the middle of the night and he’s still awake. He just returned from his last assignment and Tsaritsa is already sending him across Teyvat for “business” related reasons. He just finished checking up on Tonia to see her sleeping soundly. She’s growing up really fast, he smiles slightly at the thought. She can already sleep on her own. He gently opens the door to your room, well really it’s both of yours but he hasn’t been doing a lot of sleeping there, and cringes slightly at the creek the doors give.

He takes a small minute to lean on the doorway and relaxes. He won’t have enough time to bask in your presence if he’s too make it on time. The winter storm continues outside, as if Tsaritsa herself is yelling at him to start moving. He doesn’t think there’s ever been an instance when they’ve been silent.

“I care about three things in this world. My sister, you, and my home,” Tartalia says softly as he walks over and kneels down beside your laying form, resting his hand beside yours as he places a soft kiss on temple. “When those three things are safe I can rest.”

You tap him two times. Your hand has laced around his in a loose grip to which he tightens. You both sit in silence as he wait’s for the pins and needles to stop spreading across his arm before speaking again.

“I know I already proposed but let’s elope somewhere. My next assignment is taking me to Liyue. I heard it’s quite a beautiful place. I’m thinking a spring wedding perhaps?”

One more tap but he’s learned to take your annoyance as you jesting or being flustered.

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” you ask.

“I can try but I can’t guarantee everyone else will be,” he laughs.

You tap him three times. If you weren’t half asleep you would have probably thrown your pillow at him. He gives one last chuckle as his finger’s rubs patterns into your hand.

“I promise,” he swears.

He hears you hum happily as you begin to relax back into slumber. Slowly letting the feeling of his heartbeat lull you to sleep until your grip loosens around his wrist. Even as the winter winds howl outside you can sleep so peacefully. Unlike him where in the back of his mind are restless thoughts. Tsaritsa is asking something huge of him, another test of his loyalty and strength. He silently stands up as to not wake you again, gives you one last squeeze of the hand, one last fond look, before he leaves. Closing the door as quietly as he can, he steels himself to go back out into the cold.

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