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rufflebuttercup · 16 days

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romance analysis unit | spencer reid

summary: you like spencer. spencer likes you. somehow, you're the only ones on the team who can't see it - and that calls for some BAU intervention.

a/n: i had a bit of an impulsive moment and decided to delete my old blog (vintagecarat) because i wanted a redo, so if you've seen a variation of this fic before, it’s not been stolen - i promise! this is my favourite x reader i've ever written, so i had to rewrite it, of course!

enjoy the fic, and have a fantastic day! <3 requests are open!

note(s): gn!reader & no pronouns used, mention of alcohol, mention of canon-typical violence, reader gets hurt, mentions of blood, one bed trope

word count: 5,173

One year, seven months and sixteen days. That's how long it had been since you'd started working at the BAU.

One year, seven months and nine days. That's how long it had been since you'd realized that you had a sickeningly huge crush on Spencer Reid.

It had been a long time since you'd had a crush. The last time had been in elementary school, and you'd been convinced that you were in love with the boy who sat two seats to the left of you in class. He’d gone on to marry your best friend and leave you with a broken heart. In hindsight, though, you were only five.

You'd fallen for people before, and you'd had a string of partners in the past, but it had been such a long time since you'd felt the way you did when you looked at Spencer. Seeing him smile made your heart thud erratically in your chest. Hearing him ramble made you smile in the giddiest and most euphoric way possible. Feeling his fingers brush against yours whenever he handed you your morning coffee made your brain turn to mush and left you unable to form a coherent sentence for at least ten minutes. You were trying your hardest to break that last habit, though.

Your crush on Spencer quickly became a topic that you knew you wanted to keep a secret from the rest of the team. The last thing you needed was all of your progress as the newest team member to be weighed down by a crush that made you blush and giggle like a child.

During a particularly wild night out with the team, though, your plan to keep your crush on Spencer a secret went flying out of the nearest window, along with any shred of dignity you had remaining after drinking one too many shots. It had been a miracle that Spencer hadn't been there at the exact moment the words spouted from your lips. At least you had your drunk self to thank for something, you supposed.

Penelope had been the first one you'd told. Definitely a foolish move on your part, but you were too drunk in the moment to make any logical decisions. Emily and JJ had gone to the bar to get more drinks - "another round of shots", Emily had screamed before dragging JJ away - leaving you and Penelope alone to guard the table in the corner. She was the one who'd brought up the conversation, and naturally, you'd followed along without a care in the world. If there was anything good to come of the situation, then it was the look on Penelope’s face. You wished you’d taken a picture of her expression as the words tumbled from your mouth.

Penelope couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, and once she knew, it was only a matter of time before Emily and JJ knew. She’d screamed so loudly that you’d almost gotten kicked out of the bar for causing a disturbance.

"Place your bets," Emily had shouted over the pounding bass music, slamming a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, "How long until Garcia tells Morgan?"

It barely even took an hour. Emily ended up winning her own bet.

Derek had practically cornered you at your desk the next time he saw you in the bullpen, failing miserably to hide the smirk on his face as he showed you his phone and the babbling, completely unintelligible, texts from Penelope.

With the alcohol out of your system and the devastating hangover a painful memory, you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole. Maybe you could quit, or request a transfer, or simply disappear to the other side of the country and become a recluse in the wilderness. Wishful thinking, of course.

From that moment on, you noticed that the rest of the team was messing with you. You didn’t have any proof, but you were sure of it. You’d enter the conference room to find that the only seat remaining was next to Spencer. You’d find yourself paired up with Spencer more often during cases. You and Spencer would frequently be the last two members left in the bullpen at the end of the day.

It wasn't as if you particularly minded. You and Spencer were best friends. You had been from the moment you'd walked into the bullpen on your first day and immediately made a comment about the book he was reading. You were used to being around him more often than not, but it was a lot harder to act as if nothing had changed when you were on edge 90% of the time. You were always wondering if he knew anything about the crush you had on him, or if someone else was about to blurt out the secret that you were trying so desperately hard to keep hidden. You couldn't bring it up because you'd either out yourself or you'd be forced to have a conversation that you were sure would end in rejection.

It was an endless cycle, and you hated it.

You were in the bullpen with Dave, perched on the edge of your desk as he rattled off his famous carbonara recipe. You’d always wanted to be a better cook, and Dave had promised you that he'd teach you, even though he really didn't want you burning his kitchen down to the ground.

“Okay, so, do you add the cheese and the egg together, or separately?”

“You combine the egg first, and then you add the cheese.”

“Oh. Right. So…”

It was at that moment that Derek decided to sidle over to the conversation, perching himself on your desk beside you with an all-too familiar smirk on his face.

“Since when have you been interested in learning how to cook?” he gave you a not-so-subtle nudge.

You shot Derek a glare, “Derek. Don't.”

"Unless you were planning a date for pretty boy over there.”

He nodded his head in Spencer's direction, and you couldn't help but follow his eyes. It was automatic. The sight of Spencer pouring pretty much the entire jar of sugar into his coffee made you smile, but it was definitely an expression you wiped off your face when you heard Derek's laughter.

“I swear to God, Derek…”

“Guys,” JJ interrupted, entering the bullpen with a case file in hand, “We've got a case.”

“Is it bad?”

JJ simply grimaced.

“Of course it is,” you said with a sigh, hopping off your desk. Derek was still failing to hide his laughter beside you, and you swatted at him, “Shut up, Derek.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You didn't have to.”

It didn’t surprise you at all to see that the seat beside Spencer was the only one available. As you slid into it, you caught Emily smirking at you from across the table, though she was clearly trying to hide it. You shook your head at her, though you couldn’t stop a tiny smile from ghosting over your lips as you focused your attention onto the case file in your hands.

ꨄ︎

It always seemed as though every case at the BAU was worse than the last one.

You’d all been called to a small town in Wyoming after a frantic call from the police department. Three victims had been found in the town’s frozen lake with anchors tied to their ankles to keep them below the surface. A fourth victim had gone missing, and there was no doubt that she’d end up like the others if she wasn’t found. It was a horrifying fact that everybody knew, but nobody wanted to admit.

It was later, almost 11 pm, and you were no closer to solving the case than you had been when you’d first arrived. It was as if the unsub was always three steps ahead of you, and it was frustratingly annoying. You’d spent a good portion of the afternoon scouring through decade old case files. The lead detective was convinced that it was related to a similar case that had happened in the 1990s. You hadn’t found any striking similarities between the two and you were beginning to wonder if there would be any at all. He was clutching at straws, desperately trying to close the case as quickly as possible. You couldn’t fault him for that.

Just as the words on the case file were beginning to blur into one large amalgamation, a gentle hand landed on your shoulder, “Hey,” JJ said, “We’re all heading to the hotel.”

“You go ahead,” you waved dismissively, stifling a yawn, “I’m going to finish looking over these files, and…”

“Hotch’s orders,” she cut you off, “You need a break. We all do.”

You looked to the doors of the precinct and saw the rest of the team ready to leave, muttering amongst themselves in a tired conversation. Aaron raised his eyebrows, almost expectantly, at you.

“Alright,” you didn’t bother trying to hide another yawn, “I’m coming.”

JJ smiled softly at you, almost dragging you to your feet because of how exhausted you were. It didn’t really feel as if your brain was in control of your body as you padded after her. You’d been so caught up in the details of the case that you hadn’t realized how tired you truly were. The sudden rush of air that hit you as you exited the building made you even drowsier.

“You look exhausted,” Spencer chuckled as he helped you into the SUV with a gentle hand on the small of your back that almost made you combust right then and there, "I've seen you tired, but this is another level."

You simply made a little grunt in response. You didn't have enough energy to come up with one of your usual witty comebacks. You clumsily collapsed into your seat, and you leaned your head back against the headrest as your eyes fluttered shut.

It wasn't too long of a drive to the hotel, but that didn't stop you from catching a quick power nap during the brief moment of peace. You couldn't get Spencer out of your head. Or, more specifically, that hand on the small of your back. He'd never touched you like that before. Ever. It was sending your brain spiraling, to be honest.

“We’re here,” Spencer’s voice filtered into your ear as he gently shook your shoulder, “Wake up.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glanced to your left. After a moment, your eyes came back into focus, and it hit you that your head was leaning on Spencer’s shoulder, “Oh,” you quickly sat up, though you almost choked as the seat belt snapped you back against the seat, “Sorry.”

You were so very glad that most of the team weren’t in the same SUV as the two of you because they’d never let you hear the end of it. The only other person was Aaron, and as you caught his eye in the rearview mirror, you could tell that he was trying not to uncharacteristically laugh at you. You did your best to ignore him, which wasn’t exactly easy when your face began to burn with a familiar wave of heat that you’d grown accustomed to.

That chuckle of Spencer’s that you loved so much and made your heart do flip-flops in your chest echoed in your ears, “It’s fine. You clearly needed it. And I do make an excellent pillow.”

You snorted out a laugh, and you gave him a shove as you climbed out of the car beside him, “Shut up.”

The rest of the team were all waiting beside the front desk with their bags as you and Spencer entered. Even though you made sure to look in any other direction, you definitely saw the subtle smirks Derek and Emily were shooting you out of the corner of your eye.

Aaron finished his hushed conversation with the receptionist, and with a curt nod, he moved back over to the rest of the team with key cards in his hand, “They don’t have enough rooms for all of us. Looks like we’re doubling up.”

If Spencer noticed the subtle smirks and side glances from the rest of the team, he never mentioned them.

Instead, he nudged your shoulder, “We’re sharing, right?”

“Of course, we’re sharing. I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you took the key card Aaron was holding out to you, and you couldn’t help but notice his lips twitching up into a tiny little-half smirk. You brushed it off, though, “I’m sleeping on the bed nearest the window this time.”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer followed you as you made your way to the elevator, “I like sleeping near the window.”

“No. Not happening. You slept near the window last time.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as the elevator shot up to your designated floor. Your eyes wandered around the small space, and you found yourself looking anywhere other than at Spencer. You weren’t an anxious person, and it wasn’t as if being alone with Spencer was a new thing to you, but your mind was racing. All because of that one small gesture. His hand on the small of your back. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and you wished you could because it was making your cheeks burn.

“Even the elevators are fancy,” you muttered, casting a quick glance around the elevator’s plush and yet miniscule interior, “For a small town, they sure do have nice hotels.”

Things really were dire when you started making small talk. You were the type of person who could make a mountain out of a molehill with how much you talked. You almost rivaled Spencer with how much you could babble on. Small talk wasn’t your thing at all.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Hm?”

“You hate small talk,” Spencer said, and you bit back a laugh at that. It was as if you and Spencer were on the same wavelength sometimes, “And you’re picking at the hole in your sweater. You only ever do that when you’ve got something on your mind.”

You immediately glanced down at your hands, dropping them from your sweater as if it burned. You hadn’t even realized you’d been picking at the hole until Spencer mentioned it. You hadn’t even realized that there was a hole at all. Your bottom lip jutted out in a quick pout, “I love this sweater.”

Spencer chuckled at that, “So,” he continued, “You’re clearly nervous about something. And it’s not the case, because cases never make you nervous.”

“Really?” you said, a hint of laughter creeping into your tone, “You’re analyzing me?”

The elevator reached your floor, and the doors opened with a loud ding, “I’m not analyzing,” Spencer stepped out, “I’m simply making an astute observation.”

“Okay, well stop astutely observing me,” you followed after him, “Don’t worry. I’m fine. You know I’d tell you, “ it wasn’t necessarily a lie. Maybe you’d tell him. Eventually.

Spencer glanced back at you briefly as if he didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth, but he never said anything. Instead, he took the keycard from you and held it against the lock, waiting for the light to turn green before pushing open the door, “Oh.”

“What?” you sidestepped around him, “Oh.”

There was only one bed. Sure, it was a double, but it was still tiny. It was in that moment that you decided perhaps becoming an unsub wouldn’t be a lost cause.

“I’ll take the couch.”

“I can sleep on the couch.”

You and Spencer finished your sentences at the same time, and you turned to look at each other. As soon as you locked eyes, you both started to laugh at the stupidity of the situation.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch either,” you argued, “It’ll kill your back, Spence. You’re way too tall.”

“It’s not fair on you, though. You’ll…” Spencer was about to argue some more, but he stopped when he saw the look on your face. Spencer couldn’t argue his way out of a wet paper bag - when it came to you, at least.

“Look, Spence. It’s fine,” you dropped your bag onto the couch before he could protest, “There. Easy. No harm done.”

Spencer frowned, but he reluctantly put his own bag on the bed, “Fine. We’re swapping tomorrow night, though,” he told you, almost ordering you, “You’re not sleeping on the couch the entire time we’re here.”

“Deal,” your lips curled up into a smile, and you sat down on the couch, “See. I told you I’d be sleeping near the window.”

Spencer laughed at that.

ꨄ︎

From your space on the couch, you could faintly see the glowing green alarm clock that sat on the bedside table. A strange commodity for a hotel room. It almost looked alien.

2:32 a.m.

You couldn’t sleep. You had a bad enough sleep schedule at the best of times, but the injury on your side was making things worse. It still burned, and if you gently put pressure on the area, you could still feel the deep wound through the layers of bandages.

You were almost three days into the case, and you’d finally had a solid lead. It had taken a lot of digging, but Penelope had discovered the unsub’s hunting ground; an old speakeasy hidden so deep in the town that nobody had been able to trace it. Since you were the closest in victimology, you’d agreed to go undercover to catch the unsub once and for all. All you’d ended up with was a knife embedded deep into your side as the unsub escaped once again.

You’d been in the hospital for hours after that. The knife had gone in so deep that it was close to catching something vital, and the doctors had told you that you were lucky to be alive. You’d spent most of that afternoon in a hospital bed, listening to the monotonous sound of beeping machines. After a concerned lecture from Aaron - he’d told you not to follow the unsub but you hadn’t exactly listened - you were bandaged up and sent on your way.

Spencer had told you to take the bed. He’d almost forced you into it at one point. But you’d seen the way he’d tried to discreetly stretch out his cramp throughout the day, and you were far too stubborn, so you refused his offer and tried to sleep on the couch for the night. It wasn’t working, though.

You huffed in pain, shifting uncomfortably in the hopes of finding a better position to sleep in. Every movement made your bandages rub against the wounded area. You finally thought you found a comfortable enough position and you tried to settle down, but then you felt a dampness seeping through your bandages, and you cursed under your breath.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, pulling your shirt up and surveying your body. Even in the darkness, you could see the dark spot where the blood had begun to soak through, “Goddamnit.”

You pushed yourself off the couch and tip-toed across the room. You didn’t want to wake Spencer, especially not in your current state. You kept a hand tightly pressed against your side as you slowly moved. You didn’t want to get blood on the carpet. The staff seemed lovely, and you didn’t want to ruin their day with your mess. Every single step made you wince as a sharp pain shot straight through your body, and your breaths came out as sharp little puffs of air.

A muffled noise from the bed caught your attention, and you saw Spencer begin to stir. He gently mumbled your name as he sat up and stared at you with bleary eyes, “What are you doing?” he looked you up and down, and then his eyes settled on the blood, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you told him, though you clearly weren’t, “I think the stitches came undone or something. It’s fine,” you tried to wave his worries off, “Go back to sleep.”

Spencer did the opposite. He clambered out of bed and turned on the light, lighting up the room so that you could both see each other clearly. Your heart started to thud a little faster when you saw that the shirt he was wearing to sleep in was a little undone towards the top. You’d never noticed that before.

“You’re not fine,” his eyes were laser focused on the blood as he took a step closer to you, “You’re bleeding.”

“Good observation skills, Spencer,” you laughed a little, though you grunted in pain as it aggravated the injury, “I told you, it’s fine. I’ll redress it, and…” you paused when you saw the look in his eyes. It was a look he’d never given you before, and it stole your breath for a moment.

“Let me see.”

“Spencer...”

“It’s obviously hurting you,” his sentence was almost demanding, and yet there was a soft and concerning tone to his voice, too, “Let me see it.”

You sighed. There was no way you could refuse when he spoke to you with that tone of voice. You gingerly lifted your shirt high enough for him to see it, “It looks worse than it is.”

Spencer gently pulled away the loose bandages and inspected the open wound, his eyes never leaving your body, “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “You’re not redressing it yourself, and you’re certainly not stitching yourself back up.”

You barely had a chance to respond before Spencer had darted into the bathroom, and he came out moments later with a roll of bandages the hospital had given you.

“Here. Sit,” he sat back down on the bed, and he patted the space beside him, “You’ll have to go back to hospital tomorrow. I’ll help you rebandage it for tonight,” his eyes darted between your own eyes and the blood that seemed to be pooling on your side, “Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, “Spencer…” there was no point in arguing with him, you knew that, and your wound hurt the longer it was left open, “Fine.”

You sat down beside Spencer, curling your legs up under you as you turned your back to him. Your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, holding it up high enough so that it wasn’t dangling in the way. This wasn’t the first time that Spencer had patched you up after an injury in the field, but this was the first time where you were definitely feeling a little light-headed.

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” Spencer’s voice was a gentle whisper against your ear. You hadn’t even realized that he was practically leaning his head on your shoulder, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands were so gentle on your skin that it was almost as if he wasn’t even touching you at all. The only indication that he was even helping you was the bandages around your torso since he wrapped them so tightly that they felt like a strangely comforting hug.

“There,” Spencer said, almost proudly, and he gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Done.”

You glanced down at your body before dropping your shirt. The wound didn’t even seem to hurt any more. You became very aware very quickly that Spencer’s hands hadn’t left your hips, “Thank you.”

You shuffled around until you were facing him, and when your eyes locked, it suddenly felt as if time had come to a standstill. That look was back in his eyes; the one that you’d never seen before that made you feel as though you were melting on the inside. You weren’t entirely sure what was racing faster; your heart or your mind.

And suddenly, before you could really comprehend your actions, your lips were on his. Your body acted before your brain could catch up. Your hands tugged slightly on the collar of his shirt as if you were trying to pull him closer to you. The kiss was tender, and yet it was so full of obvious desire. Warmth flooded your entire body as your stomach seemed to explode with swarms of butterflies. This was a moment you’d thought about for a long time, and once your brain caught up, you couldn’t quite comprehend that it was happening.

It may have only been a few seconds, but it felt like hours. You pulled away, and it was only after you saw the startled expression on Spencer’s face and the faint blush that crept up his neck that you realized what you’d done, “Spence…” your mouth opened and closed, but now words came out for a good few seconds, “Spencer. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Your panicked babbling was cut off as Spencer pressed a quick kiss to your lips, “Shut up,” he smiled, and he pressed his index fingers where his lips had been moments ago, “Just shut up for a minute.”

If this were any other time, you’d be rather offended that he told you to shut up, and you’d keep talking. In this situation, however, you were happy to keep your mouth shut.

“You didn’t mean to, what? You didn’t mean to kiss me?”

“No. I mean… Yes, but also no, but…”

Spencer raised an eyebrow with a faint smirk, “I thought I told you to shut up.”

You pressed your lips together in a fine line, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands left your hips, and he took your hands in his own. He squeezed them gently, and his thumbs began tracing soft little circles onto your palms, “You kissed me.”

You were more than ready for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Spencer seemed to notice because his grip on your hands got a little tighter as if he knew you’d go run, “I’m glad you kissed me.”

There was no stopping the surprised squeak that escaped your lips, “What?!”

Spencer chuckled at that, and the pink blush had spread up to his cheeks, “I’m glad you kissed me,” he repeated, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“You… You…” your mouth was hanging open, and your eyes were wide. You must’ve looked like an absolute idiot, “You have…?”

“Of course, I did.”

This conversation was going in an entirely different direction to how you’d assumed it was. You’d never seen Spencer look or talk with so much affection before. Spencer said your name with so much love in his tone that it snapped you out of your shocked state, “I like you.”

For a single moment in time, it felt as if the world had stopped spinning. You simply stared, unable to do much of anything else except feel a sharp tug at your heart, “You… You do…?”

“Are you capable of putting a sentence together, or not?” Spencer laughed, and he interlaced his fingers with yours, “Yes, I do. A lot, actually,” he smiled at you, and there was a hint of teasing, “I might be a genius, but even the dumbest person in the room could figure you out right now.”

You cracked a smile, and your shocked expression gave way to a relieved and delighted one, “I really like you, too.”

“Do you? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Shut up,” you giggled, and you never giggled. You knew this crush was childish, but this was on another level entirely.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you giggle.”

“I’m not giggling.”

“Oh, you absolutely are. You’ve always been a terrible liar,” Spencer grinned at you, and then his lips connected with yours.

The kiss seemed more affectionate than earlier, and a lot more passionate. Your hands wound around his neck, and his hands found a comfortable resting place on your waist. Your lips seemed to perfectly fit together like two puzzle pieces. It could’ve been seconds, or it could’ve been minutes. You weren’t entirely sure how long it had been, but you eventually pulled away from each other, and you were both a little breathless from the intensity. Intense was something you never expected from Spencer. You liked it, though.

You let your forehead rest against Spencer’s, “I hate to ruin the mood and everything, but…” your eyes flitted back and forth to the couch, “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore?”

“Absolutely not,” Spencer pulled you a little closer, “You’re not sleeping on the couch. Especially not now.”

“Good,” you curled into him as he pulled you closer to his side, letting your head rest against his chest with a gentle sigh, “The bed has better company.”

Spencer maneuvered the two of you until you were lying on the bed, and he tucked you that tiny bit closer into him. You’d imagined him hugging you plenty of times, but this felt better than any imagination could. He kissed the top of your head, and he ran a gentle hand up and down your back, “Sure does.”

ꨄ︎

“Penelope Garcia! I’m going to kill you!”

You stormed through the BAU and entered Penelope’s office, slamming the door open with such a bang that it made the walls shudder.

Penelope grinned as she spun around in her chair to face you, “Ah, my sweet angel,” she spoke with a beaming grin on her face, “Do you require my assistance?”

“You little…” you stepped a little closer, but it was hard to look even slightly threatening with a goofy grin on your face that you were trying to hide, “You gave me and Spencer the only room with a single bed?”

“I did no such thing.”

“I spoke to everyone else, Pen. Everyone else had a bed of their own.”

Penelope continued to smirk at you, not even trying to hide her laughter, “It worked, didn’t it? I haven’t seen you as happy as this in weeks.”

You faltered at that. She wasn’t wrong. Ever since you’d gotten back from Wyoming, you’d been happier than anyone had ever seen you. Of course, everyone knew about you and Spencer, and it didn’t take long for the good-natured teasing to pick straight back up, “Yeah. Okay. It worked, but…”

Penelope held up a manicured finger to cut you off, “Besides, my sweet,” she continued, leaning forward in her chair as if she had a secret to tell you, “I was the one who booked the rooms, yes, but I wasn’t the one who handed out the keys, was I?”

Another pause. The words slowly sunk in, and then your mouth dropped open in a mix of shock, humiliation, and a little bit of gratitude, “You… You don’t mean…”

Penelope grinned. She could practically see the gears turning in your head, and it made her laugh, “Oh, I mean exactly what you think I mean, my love.”

“Hotch set us up?!” you didn’t even wait for Penelope’s response. You turned on your heel and marched out of her office, leaving Penelope laughing to herself behind you, “Aaron Hotchner! I’m going to kill you.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #x reader

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writerthreads · 1 year

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How to write a found family

By Writerthreads on Instagram

The found family story is a type of YA trope where individuals from different backgrounds come together to form a family, possibly to make up for their lack of true family. When it’s done well, found families can be so wholesome and heartwarming, and I simply adore this trope. Here's a guide to help you write a compelling found family in your WIP:

Create a diverse group of characters

The key to writing a successful found family story is to have a diverse cast of characters with different backgrounds, cultures, and experiences. This diversity will make the story richer and allow you to explore different perspectives and themes from different points of views. It also allows for a wide range of readers to find a character that they can relate to.

Establish a common goal

In a found family story, the characters come together to achieve a common goal. This goal can be anything from surviving an apocalypse to starting a business together. It is essential to establish this goal early on in the story, as it will help to create a sense of unity among the characters.

Themes

Using themes can add depth to a found family story by providing a framework for exploring the emotional and psychological growth of the characters. Here are a few examples:

Belonging: The idea that characters finally have a place where they fit in, and the struggles that come with feeling like an outsider previously.

Identity: The idea of self-discovery when a character finally becomes part of a family and has the time and people to communicate with to understand themselves.

Acceptance: Characters accepting themselves and others for who they are, overcoming previous prejudices.

Family: What makes a family, and the classic tropes associated with families and variations of them. Eg. the "mum" of the group who also doubles as the "wild child" at times.

Explore each character's backstory

A found family story is all about the characters' individual journeys and how they come together, and this can be done by giving each character a backstory that explains their motivations and desires. This can justify bad choices that characters may make or simply allow the readers to relate to them more. You can also use flashback scenes or dialogue to reveal important details about each character's past, however, I think flashbacks can be used more sparingly and only if they serve a purpose.

Create conflicts and obstacles

Like any good story, a found family story needs conflict to keep readers engaged. You can create conflicts within the group or create some external obstacles that the group must overcome. These conflicts challenge the characters and force them to grow and change through adverse situations. It’s especially interesting to see how characters with conflicting personalities or life views have friction with each other.

These are some of the tips I could think of for creating a found family in your story. As always our tips are just guides to help you with your book and definitely not a set of rules to follow. Good luck and have fun! :)

#writing #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing tip #writing tips #writing advice #teen writer #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers block #found family

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stardust-kenobi · 19 days

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moonlight & heartbeats

Hunter x Fem!Reader

Summary: A year after being rescued by Hunter from near-death on Tantiss, your peaceful life on Pabu is plagued with rampant nightmares. Hunter, now your close friend, senses your distress one night and comes to check on you.

Word count: ~5.5k

Warnings/tags: SMUT (piv sex, fingering, oral, dirty talk), hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentioned violence, friends to lovers trope, Hunter cheesily senses reader’s heartbeat, the usual “use of his abilities” smut tropes, sorry not sorry<3

A/N - this has maybe more backstory than necessary but I decided my porn would have SOME plot this time. Enjoy <3

Read on AO3

Partially requested by @yunggoblin. Hunter uses his hearing more than his scent here but still goes along with your prompt :)

The rain poured relentlessly from the darkened sky. Your clothes now weighed heavy upon your beaten figure. The metal beneath your knees felt more unforgiving by the second. The trooper behind you, a clone trooper, held you by your shoulder, keeping you firmly in place.

Your trembling body barely had the strength to sit upright as you painfully craned your neck upward to the steel blaster barrel now level with your forehead. Just moments before, you were sheltering from the attack on the base inside Hemlock’s ship that you were repairing. A mechanic. You were just a mechanic. They’d accused you of treason, and there was no right to a fair trial if they’d thought you betrayed your mighty employer.

"The Empire thanks you for your service" The well-dressed Imperial officer spoke blankly as his finger hovered over the trigger. You’d never even seen him before, and somehow he held the right to take your life.

Your heart sat uncomfortably in your throat as your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the final breath you'd ever take.

Just as the blaster fired, your vision went hazy, and your eyes flashed open.

You found yourself sitting upright in your bed, panting frantically as a bead of sweat dripped down your temple. You grasped at your chest like it would help you breathe better, but you knew it was useless. It was only the third time this week you'd had the same nightmare, or at least, some variation of it. Usually in your nightmare, you were in the rain, as it truly happened. Other times you found yourself elsewhere on Tantiss base. Regardless, the dream always ended with a blaster at your head, reliving what you thought was going to be your final moments.

That is, if you had not been rescued by Clone Force 99. Had it not been for Hunter stealthily jumping into action. He didn't know you, not at the time. He saw a woman seconds away from execution and didn't think twice. You wonder, though, why he saved a woman in imperial dressings. What about you made him see you differently among every other imperial he and his squad killed without hesitation that day on Tantiss?

You were a mechanic for the Empire, and barely one at that. You were in training at the time of your near-execution. Somehow, your skills working on speeders on your outer-rim home world caught the attention of an Imperial Admiral during their invasion of your planet. You didn't have much choice, but you tried to make the best of it.

A few weeks into your job, you were accused of tampering with the safety of Admiral Tarkin's ship. It wasn't true, but your word meant nothing once you were accused. Truthfully, you never signed up for what the Empire had planned for you anyway.

Almost a year had passed since that day, but it never seemed to get any easier. The warm and happily endless days in your new home on Pabu were an oasis compared to your days serving the Empire. Unfortunately, though, even in a paradise of unbothered territory, the Empire still held you in its grasp with these unrelenting nightmares.

Your head rested heavily in your palms as you leaned over the side of the bed. Your roommate was thankfully gone for the night, so you were confident that no one heard your panting and muffled pleas for mercy in your sleep.

The beating of your heart began to pump the breaks ever so slowly. Looking around your home, you felt comfort in knowing you were safe. It always took you a few moments to let it sink in:

It wasn’t real.

The Empire cannot hurt you.

You are safe.

Your attempted solitude was abruptly halted by a sudden knock at the door. You rubbed your face to gather your composure before walking to the door and cracking it open.

Hunter’s face, illuminated by the glow of the moonlight, came into view. Your heart skipped a beat. His presence was always welcomed, but no matter how close you were to Hunter, he always gave the gentlest butterflies.

“Hunter, wh-” You began, your voice rough from sleep.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” He spoke gently, his eyes heavy with worry. He cared so deeply for you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer that question verbally. Pulling the door open, you gestured for him to come inside.

He entered, hesitantly. His eyes not so subtly traveled the length of your body, barely covered by the silk nightgown you wore. His jaw clenched as he made himself look away.

“Sorry, I’ll cover up” You said frantically, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Scrambling to find a tunic, he politely interrupted you.

“No, please” He begged. There was a hint of desire in his tone that you chose to dismiss, “I mean, it’s your home. Don’t worry about me”. His eyes still wandered. Hunter couldn’t peel his eyes away from your exposed skin. At least not completely before finally finding your gaze and holding it.

Setting down the tunic, you crossed your arms, nodding in agreement.

“I’ve…been better. Just a…bad dream is all” You struggled with your words, answering his initial question.

“I, um, sensed that you were…distressed” He started, nervously, “Sorry, It’s not by choice. But I couldn’t ignore it”.

It was no surprise that he could tell. The villa you were housed in was side by side with Hunter and Crosshair’s villa, with Hunter’s bunk being on just the other side of the thin walls of your own room. It wasn’t a lot of space, but it was graciously gifted to you by the Pabu government, and you were grateful.

But although it wasn’t surprising, you were startled by the idea that he could sense your nerves and heartbeat through the wall.

What else could he sense? What could he hear?

“What were you doing awake? It’s the middle of the night” You countered, shaking your head subtly, wearing a soft smile in admiration of his concern and derailing from the topic only slightly.

He sighed and sat himself on your bunk, “Was having some bad dreams myself” he confessed, his elbows resting on his thighs. You followed suit, sitting on your bunk next to him.

You nodded and let the silence between you fill the small space for a moment. It wasn't awkward. It never was with him.

“It’s been a year. I just…I can’t shake how real it feels. Every single time I have this dream -- it’s like I’m right back on Tantiss, staring up through the barrel of a blaster. But…in my dream— my nightmare—you never come to save me” You breathe out, almost choking on the last part.

Hunter’s brows furrow with concern and pain. He thought it over for a few seconds, reliving that moment when he saved your life, shooting the officer dead where he stood as well as the troopers surrounding you. His face twisted in sorrow once more before he spoke again.

“I see Tech” He began, his voice broken, “Every time I close my eyes to sleep. Over and over again, I see him die”

“Oh, Hunter” your voice cracks with his name falling off your lips. Your heart broke for him, for the others. You never had the pleasure of knowing Tech, but from the endless stories the others in the squad had to share, you knew he was extraordinary.

Hunter's eyes remained on the ground for a moment before looking over to meet your gaze. He reached out and rested his hand upon your knee. You were ashamed to admit that the gentlest of his touch was electrifying to you.

“I know what it’s like” He consoled you, “it’s terrible”.

You nodded and stared into him, communicating more in your expression than what your words could provide.

“That trauma — it’s a part of me now”

“It is. But it does not define you” Hunter countered, “That’s what I tell Omega. Shes a tough kid but…she’s haunted by the Empire, too”

You thought of her and smiled. Over the past year, you'd grown close to all of them and were so happy to have them in your life.

Hunter always tended to you back when you were trying to adjust to life on the island. He used check on you several times a day, just to see if you were okay. He still does occasionally, but he’s given you more space as time has passed. He was a good and caring friend.

A Friend.

You chuckled to yourself at the thought of that word. It wasn’t even a week after you met him that you’d fallen head over heels for him. He blissfully plagued your every waking thought. Often you’d worry that he noticed your fixation on him, and were weary of his possible rejection. Other times, you’d hoped he noticed and would do something about it.

There were lingering glances, brushes against one another in a hallway, kind and flattering words exchanged…but you’d both been too afraid to act on it. You accepted that it may never be anything more than that, but it wasn’t without disappointment. Everyone around you, the other guys specifically, all noticed the tension between you two, but it never affected your friendship.

“Can I ask you a question?” You broke the silence, seemingly curious in your tone.

“Anything” Hunter quickly responded.

“Is this the first time you’ve sensed that I was… distressed in the middle of the night?”

Slowly, he sat up straight, “Yes…and no” He answered, hesitantly. You swallowed hard in anticipation of what you already assumed.

You tilted your head at him inquisitively.

“It's your heart rate. But I uh...I don’t think it’s always nightmares" He trailed off, cautious of what he was insinuating. Your heart sunk to your belly. Surely he didn't mean that he could sense when you pleasured yourself?

"What do you mean, Hunter?” You pried, hoping to get him to bring it up first.

“I shouldn't have said anything. I was just worried about you and wanted to check in" He hurried through his explanation, standing to his feet and walking toward the door to look out your window.

Your cheeks burned red with both excitement and embarrassment.

"Sometimes it's the best way to get to sleep" You indirectly admitted, shrugging your shoulders and letting a playful smile sneak upon your face, “Don’t you do it, too?” You casually suggested.

His eyes snapped back to where you sat on your bed.

Touching yourself was the best way to relax. Truthfully, you were starving for Hunter’s touch instead, and you had been yearning for him all this time. It was always him that you thought of when your curious fingers traveled in between your legs.

Hunter swallowed hard, feeling the delicate tension in the air.

“Well, of course I do, I-“ he stumbled over his words.

“Hunter, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it” You reassured him, cutting him off before he felt any more flustered.

You approached him at the window, feeling so dangerously close as you placed your hand on his arm.

“Thank you for checking on me. I’m okay” You offered a gentle and reassuring smile.

“I want to protect you, cyar’ika. You mean a lot to me and I…sometimes I don’t know how to help”

Hearing endearing terms in Mando’a always melted your heart.

“Just having you around is enough protection for me”

“I’m on the other side of the wall if you ever need me. You know that”

“I know” You nodded, but couldn’t seem to break your attention away from his face. The tattooed side, something you’d always adored, was lit once again by the brightened moon. Stars, he was so beautiful.

It was a mutual exchange of a longing expression between you two. Hunter’s eyes searched your gaze for any hesitation as you both leaned into each other. Your body pressed firm against him as your hands rested on the back of his neck. In the quiet of your room, it was you who could hear your own heartbeat now.

His lips landed blissfully upon yours, sending a radiating current through your body. You sucked in a sharp breath, overcome with the feeling of this sudden intimate contact. You kissed him back delicately, letting your mouth become barely familiar with his after so much longing for this exact feeling. You pulled away only slightly, seeing if he had any urge to stop. You looked up at him, searching for any sense of regret but found none. Hunter’s eyes were hungry for you...so much more of you.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice low and desperate.

You ached for him. Maker…you had ached for him for so terribly long. His lips on any part of your body were near close enough to send you into a frenzy. As your lips returned to his, Hunter’s arms found themselves wrapped around your barely clothed waist, pulling you closer to him, and deepening the kiss.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt ready to remove it, eager to continue this further. To your puzzling surprise, he stopped you.

“Oh, I-“ You began, flustered and confused.

“Mesh’la” he groaned.

“I’m sorry”

“No, don’t be. I just…I can’t” He strained through his words, shutting his eyes for a moment, finding it difficult to reject you but forcing himself to do so.

As you stood there confused, he looked at you with a wordless apology on his face.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I'm right here if you need me” He concluded, gently planting a kiss on your forehead before seeing himself out.

Emptiness consumed you as you stood alone in your villa. Had you done something wrong? Surely not, it was clear he wanted you too, but something stopped him.

With such worry on your mind, you laid awake for a while before your fatigue finally took you over, sending you into a deep sleep.

————————————

“Have a nice day!” You called out to your last customer of the day. You loved your job working in the marketplace in the city square. It was a peaceful and rewarding existence.

Throughout the day, memories of the night before played like a broken holoscan in your mind. You could still feel his lips against yours, devouring you. It was hard not to smile as you reminisced about the feeling, but your smile would quickly fade as you remembered how it ended.

The sun casted an amber glow over the sea, letting you know the day was near over. The entire day had passed without seeing Hunter, which made you anxious. You wanted to see him. To talk to him. To apologize for trying to go too far.

As you processed these thoughts, you felt a presence approach your booth.

Hunter.

“Oh, hi!” You said surprised.

“Hi” He began, his smile warm, “can we talk?”

“Sure. I’m just closing up for the day”, You grinned back to him.

“I’ll be at our spot by the cove” He said, pointing toward the side of the island where your secret spot was. Only you, the guys, and Omega really knew about it.

You nodded before hurrying to finish closing your shop. Never had you packed that quickly before.

You arrived on the shore, in the hidden cove on the beach to find Hunter sitting alone on the boulder.

“Hey stranger” You said, approaching him.

“Hey, you” He smiled. Maybe with anyone else, this would be awkward. But with Hunter, somehow it wasn’t.

“Everything okay?” You questioned.

“I wanted to apologize about last night” He started, not making eye contact at first, but finding your eyes shortly after.

“It’s okay, Hunter, really. I understand” You responded, not entirely sure what you were understanding. Truthfully, you still weren’t sure why he stopped you last night.

“I don’t think you do, sweetheart”

You sat next to him on the boulder, leaving a bit of space between you two, contrary to how close you’d found yourself the night before.

“I had to stop myself” He continued.

“Why?”

“I care about you” He sighed.

“I know you do, Hunter. I don’t see why that made you want to stop what we had started” You countered, growing flustered, shifting your hips slightly.

“Because no matter how hard it is for me to resist you, I cannot take advantage of you like that”

“Wha— you’re not taking advantage of me, Hunter” You subtly scoffed in disbelief.

“I want you. Make no mistake about that” He said confidently yet softly, sending a tingling feeling through your veins.

“I want you too. I think about you…a lot” You began, letting your tone lead his mind toward the deeper meaning of your words.

Hunter looked over to you and raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

“I don’t want to mess up what we have” He admitted, disappointingly, “you mean too much to me”

You wanted to fight it. You wanted him. But he made a fair point. Was it worth running the risk of ruining your friendship?

You nodded, offering no further comment on the situation. It made your heart ache terribly, but you couldn’t risk losing him due to your mutual desires.

“I’m lucky to have you, Hunter” You said, scooting closer to him before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too” He concurred.

The sunset on Pabu had never felt so bittersweet. As its warmth and glow made a gradual exit, you felt any chance of something more with Hunter disappearing with it. You sat and talked with him for another hour, chatting about the weather and how his job on the island was going, and you were just grateful for his presence, even if you’d never feel his lips upon yours again.

Returning home some time later, you noticed your roommate had left you a transmission.

“Sorry, still off-world, be back tomorrow!”

You felt relieved. Having privacy was rare but welcomed and appreciated.

The steaming shower in your refresher washed the day away from your body. You didn’t bother to put on your clothes, as you preferred to sleep naked anyway. As you sunk into your bed, you feared this would be another night of endless tossing and turning.

To make matters worse, you couldn’t stop feeling Hunter’s lips on yours. Over and over again, you kept feeling the tingling sensation that came over you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You were already wet just thinking about it, but as you rubbed your legs tightly together, you provided a friction that lit a fire in your lower belly.

He’d know if I masturbated, you thought. He’d sense it.

“Fuck it” You whispered to yourself.

Your fingertips found their place where they always did, right atop your sensitive bud. Rhythmically, you rubbed delicate circles around your clit, just beginning to tend to your aching needs. You whimpered softly. So softly that even you barely heard it.

What you were doing was going to drive him crazy. You knew that. The walls were thin, and he’d already told you that he’d sensed something in your heartbeat other than your nightmares before. But you’d be dammed if you’ll be left unsatisfied after the tease you’d felt last night.

You rocked your hips upwards into your own touch, biting your lip to suppress noises any louder than a heavy breath, especially with what you knew now. Visions of Hunter came to you as you fantasized. You pictured his fingers touching you like this, his body on top of yours.

Slowly, you felt your climax creeping toward you, inching closer like a looming threat. As you covered your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your orgasm was suddenly ripped away from you at the sound of a knock on your door.

You froze.

“Y/N” Hunter’s voice rang quietly from the other side.

Quickly, you pulled the covers to shield your naked body.

“Come in” you boldly called out. Sure, your door definitely should have been locked, but, you never worried for your safety here.

Hunter opened the door with caution. His eyes met yours immediately. As he closed it behind him, he leaned against the door as he took in the sight of you.

“Not a nightmare this time, was it?” He slyly suggested.

“No” you breathed, your heart now certainly beating in your throat.

He walked to your bed, slowly, “Tell me, mesh’la, all those times you’ve pleasured yourself, did you think I couldn’t hear those pretty little noises you make when you come?”

You stared at him, eyes heavy with intense lust and hint of blissful shame. There was a primal desire in his expression and demeanor, something you’d not seen but only a hint of last night, but it was undeniable tonight.

“Every time you touch yourself, I know” He whispered, “And you know what else? Every time you touch yourself, I can’t help but touch myself, too” He admitted, hovering above your bed, looking down to your delicately covered body. You melted at the image of him masturbating and getting off on the idea of you pleasuring yourself too.

“Hunter” you breathed.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what you want” He begged you. Hunter needed you to give him the green light he desperately needed.

“Please, fuck me” You begged shamelessly, “I can’t take it anymore. I need you”

Within the same second that the words left your lips, he was in bed above you, your lips tangled within his. He kissed you passionately, his tongue slipping into yours, exploring you further. You moaned at the satisfaction of his raw desire, picking right back up from where you left off. One hand held him up while the other ran through your hair. As you stayed covered beneath him, you reached up to grab his face and pull him into you and the kiss deepened between you.

The presence of his body above you pulled the blanket down, revealing your bare breasts. Hunter pulled away from your lips to look down at the sight. He growled lowly in approval and pent up urge to see you like this.

“Cyare” he whimpered, releasing his hand from your face down to cup your breast. He then redirected his attention to your stiffened nipples, taking one into his mouth, causing a gentle cry to fall from your lips.

With his mouth still upon your breast, he pulled the blanket completely off your body, tossing it to the floor, exposing your skin to the chilled air.

Maker, he was eager…so incredibly eager to see you fully bare beneath him. Every inch of your skin on display. Something he’d only dreamed of. Something that fueled every fantasy he had while he stroked his cock mere inches from you on the other side of the wall. And here you were, right beneath him, laid out pretty, just for him.

“You are so beautiful, sweetheart” He praised you, leaning back to fully take in the view. Swiftly, he removed his shirt, revealing the chiseled, beautifully scarred body beneath it. You stared in awe at his physique, your heart skipping a beat.

"Spread your legs for me, baby", He instructed. You obeyed, opening your legs to provide him better access to where you desperately ached for him the most. The moonlight gleaming through your window was enough to offer you both the light you needed. As Hunter caught sight of your pussy, already slick with desire for him, his face turned in pure adoration.

"Touch me, please, Hunter" You begged, feeling as though you could do nothing but beg him in this state of arousal. You were his. All his.

FIngertips trailed softly up your thigh before reaching the wetness between your legs. Hunter whimpered as he felt you.

"Oh sweetheart, is this all for me?" He asked, beginning to rub your clit gently while he whispered into your ear. Chills erupted down your body.

"It's for you. It's always for you" You responded breathlessly, letting your words flow in between your cries of pleasure. Hunter applied more pressure before inserting two fingers inside of you. While he does this, he watches you, enamored with the way your face twists in pleasure, all from his hands. Not yours this time — his.

With a curl of his fingers and a steady pace, Hunter fucks you with his fingers. His thumb remains at your clit, stimulating you beyond what you're used to. No one had paid this much attention to your body before.

His lips returned to yours, stifling a moan that escaped you as you felt your orgasm quickly approaching.

"I'm so c-close" You choked on your words muttered against his supple lips. The bundled coil in your lower abdomen threatened to burst at any second.

"I can feel you tightening around me. Come on my fingers, mesh'la" He encouraged you.

Hearing Hunter talk to you like this, after so long of being just friends, was exhilarating. His words alone were enough to push you over the edge, but the way he worked his hands to pleasure you was so good. Too good.

Your climax unraveled, washing over you gracefully, starting at your core and radiating like a fire throughout your entire body. Profanities flew from your lips as you instinctively rolled your hips against his palm.

"That's it, princess, right there" He coaxed you gently, unrelenting in the curling of his fingers, fucking you steadily through your orgasm, "good girl".

As you came down from the pure euphoria with stars dancing in your eyes, Hunter was careful to pull his fingers out of you slowly. Holding your gaze, he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you and savoring it like a last meal.

You leaned up, propping yourself on your elbows. Hunter stood, quickly pulling the hem of his pants down before removing them completely. You audibly gasped at his size when his cock came into view. Hunter was smirking as your eyes travelled back up to his gaze.

As he stood beside your bed, you got on your hands and knees and put your mouth level with his length. Hunter melted when your tongue licked up the side of his cock. His eyes fell closed when you took him into your mouth completely, or at least, as much as you could. You started to suck him off, using your tongue to guide your motions.

You peered up at him, watching his face twist in ecstasy as you bobbed your head back and forth. With a swirling of your tongue on his tip, you felt his hips twitch subtly.

“Fuck, Y/N. Just like that. Suck my cock” He growled through his pleasure, using a tone you’d usually only heard when he gave orders. This was an order you’d follow any day without question, “That’s my girl”, he praised through his clenched jaw.

His hand rested on your head, gently guiding you in your motions. The sound of his soft little whimpers that quickly turned into deeper groans made your cunt ache for him even more. You clenched your walls around nothing, pitifully empty and needing to be filled. As you moved your hand to your clit to relieve the ache, he reached down your back and plunged two fingers into your pussy from behind. You cried out, sending vibrations over his cock as you tried to still focus on his pleasure.

He pumped his fingers at a faster pace than before, sending you into a overstimulated frenzy and you couldn’t take it anymore. You pulled your mouth from him, desperately catching your breath and crying out his name.

“Fuck, Hunter, don’t stop” You begged him, but instead he disobeyed your request, removing his fingers completely.

Without struggle or hesitation, Hunter lifted you and placed you on your back on the bed. He positioned himself in between your trembling legs. He kissed you passionately once more while lining his cock at your entrance.

The whole world fell silent for you as your bodies seemingly fused together. You’d dreamed of this moment, this intimacy with Hunter, for so long. To have him inside of you was the most erotic experience you’d ever had. He bottomed out slowly, both of your mouths agape, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the connection you felt in that moment.

There was only a slight tinge of discomfort as he filled you completely. You winced only a little, before it was replaced by pure pleasure.

“Mesh’la” he moaned deeply, “You..ugh…you take me so well” he praised you through his expressions of pleasure.

“Feels so good, Hunter” you whine, staring deep into eyes, seducing him further.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to feel you like this?” He whispered against your ear before moving his lips down to your neck, kissing softly at your skin while he thrust deeper and faster.

You choked on your moans as his change in pace overwhelmed you. The room was filled with your whimpers, along with the irresistible sound of Hunter’s rough and deep moans.

“Such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this” Hunter’s praises lit a fire within you, and he could tell, encouraging him more.

You lifted your knees, pressing them against his chest, allowing him to slide inside of you at an even better angle. You cried out, overstimulated and overfilled in the most amazing way. The thin walls were no match for how good you made each other feel, but you cared very little about who heard you.

The year long pent up tension between you two was unraveling beautifully as he fucked you like he was making up for all that lost time.

With one hard thrust, he stopped, holding his cock fully sheathed in your cunt, “Gonna come on my cock, princess? Make those pretty little sounds for me?” He teased, grinding his hips hard against your thighs. Held inside you like this, he brushed against your most sensitive spot, driving you crazy.

You were drunk off him, drunk off his words, drunk off his body. You could barely form a response, but offered him a nod as you felt your next release building quickly inside of you. Maybe he just loved to tease you endlessly, because he then pulled out of you, making you whine pitifully at the sudden loss of his cock and your orgasm.

He was firm yet gentle with your body as he flipped you over flat on your stomach. Similar to how he reacted to your breasts, he growled at the sight of your ass, grabbing a handful to admire as he ran his other hand down your back.

He leaned down, his cock resting on your ass, and he moved your hair from your face, pulling you into a passionate kiss as he sunk himself into your pussy from behind. You moaned against his lips, so satisfied with being filled again.

He continued his pace from before, fucking you with raw desire to claim you. Hips slapped firm against the skin of your ass as Hunter grabbed your waist for even better leverage.

“Hunter!”, You cried out, “right there…right there…I’m gonna come”

Never would he dare to stop now. The sounds he emitted grew louder and more inconsistent, and you could tell he was close too.

The fire that burned inside you erupted into the a burst of absolute ecstasy. It took over every fiber of your being as your vision went hazy. A slew of profanities flew from your lips while your body convulsed, your cunt pulsing around his cock as you came harder than you ever had felt before.

“Yessss, good fucking girl, come for me just like that” He cursed, grinding and pounded hard to chase his own release as well. You tightened your walls for him, pushing him closer, even though you never wanted this to end.

You were breathless beneath him, still taking his cock like you were made for it.

“Come inside me, Hunter. Please” You pleaded. It seems your words sent him over his limit, because as the words left your mouth, his hips faltered and his breath grew shaky. Hunter filled you, coming deep inside you, marking you like he wished he’d done a long time ago.

Together you caught your breath slowly. Hunter was careful to remove himself gently, knowing that you’d be sensitive, as was he. You winced as the last inch of him left you. Exhaustion overtook your body as you lay there, floating on a high like no other.

Hunter laid down next you, your bodies pressed closely together on the small bed. You turned to your side, looking up at him in pure adoration.

“Y/N…” Hunter broke the silence that was only filled with panting as you both tried to catch your breath, “you are…so perfect”

“So are you” You smiled at him.

“I’m never letting you go. That’s a promise” He assured you. The words brought you comfort, and you truly believed him.

It wasn’t but shortly after that you both drifted into a deep sleep, holding each other close while your minds rested. The sleep was peaceful and uninterrupted, as neither of you had nightmares that night.

——

A/N: Please comment/reblog if you enjoyed. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!❤️

Thank you for reading 😊

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batpham-discord-highlights · 9 months

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A PSA for tagging DPxDC Content

This post will include:

The proper tags to use when posting

Why we use them and not the parent fandom tags

A chart of key words to help you filter

Image descriptions under the cut

We know we can't control who tags what, and how tumblr chooses to work, or not work, but these are just some general guidelines to help everyone find or block our content.

What DPxDC Tags should you use?

General: dpxdc always

More Specific Tags: Batpham, dpxjl, dpxyj

For ALL ships please add “ship” after the ship name. For example: Dead Tired ship, Dead on Main ship, Double Edged Sword ship

What Tags should you NOT use?

Parent Fandom Tags: Danny Phantom, dp, Phandom, Phanart, Phanfic, DC Comics, DC Universe, dc, Batfamily, Batfam, Superfam

Variations of General Tags: dp x dc, dcxdp, dc x dp, dp x jl, dp x yj, dp/dc, dc/dp,

For ships please don’t tag JUST the ship name. For example: Dead Tired, Dead on Main, Double Edged Sword

As a general fandom tag we are using dpxdc, WITH NO SPACES.

Why no spaces? Tumblr is so glitchy it’s baffling a very functional website. Because of this we’ve received reports that sometimes if a post is tagged "dp x dc" or “dp/dc” then, even when the tag is blocked, the posts will still show up in the individual "dp" and "dc" tags. That isn’t cool.

Why is it important to tag separately?

dpxdc is a big crossover. The crossover fandom has been rapidly growing over the past year. The crossover fandom drowns out the original dp/danny phantom fandom by a lot, especially for people who may be interested in dpxdc but also want to enjoy regular phandom content. By not using the dp and danny phantom tags, it helps a lot to not drown out the main fandom's inhabitants and content. dpxdc as a fandom tends to pump out a lot of content (which is amazing), but that means that we need to be careful to not suffocate the main fandoms. "Why can't I tag the danny phantom or batfam main fandoms? it's a crossover" -- yeah, it is a crossover, but it's a crossover that is huge (especially in comparison to danny phantom) and dpxdc has taken over the main fandom tags. It's causing a lot of animosity and tension on both sides.

Additionally, the crossover (like most fandoms) comes with some common characterizations, tropes, aus, and concepts that tend to be interpretations that do not link back to the main fandom well. While fandoms come up with their own characterizations, tropes, aus, and concepts, it's important to know when a crossover fandom has existed long enough to establish its own sets of common themes that the main fandom may want nothing to do with.

This doesn’t mean you have to pick between dpxdc and its parent fandoms, like Danny Phantom or DC or Batfam. Indeed, by NOT tagging dpxdc with its parent fandoms, you are ensuring that people who want a space for dpxdc and a space for its parent fandoms can have both! We don’t have to pick sides! But in order to have both, we need to tag dpxdc content with a tag we can search (that is, dpxdc), AND we need to make sure we’re NOT tagging the parent fandoms (such as, danny phantom).

What if I don't want to see dpxdc content?

Here {link} is an in depth guide on how to block tags and filter certain content from appearing on your dash. We also ask that you please keep any venting out of the dpxdc.

However, if you’d like an easy list of terms to just put into your filters, we’ve made a chart!

Thank you!!! 🦇👻🦇👻🦇👻🦇👻🦇👻🦇👻🦇👻🦇👻🦇👻🦇👻🦇👻🦇

[image description: A table with 3 categories, “DC Content”, “DPxDC content” and “DP content.

Under “DC Content” are listed: dc comics, dc, batfam, Young Justice Cartoon, Young Justice , Teen Titans, Teen Titans 2003, Batman, Gotham, Bruce Wayne, Justice League, Superman, Clark Kent, Metropolis , Jason Todd, Red Hood, Tim Drake, Red Robin, Damian Wayne, Lazarus Pit, Lazarus Water, Ras al Ghul, Watchtower, Constantine, John Constantine, Robin dc.

Under “DPxDC content” are listed: dpxdc, dp x dc, dcxdp, dc x dp, dp x dc crossover, dp x dc prompt, dp x dc fanfic, dp x dc au, dp x yj, dpxyj, dp x jl, dpxjl, dpxdc event, Batpham, Danny Fenton/Dick Grayson, Death Defying, Danny Fenton/Jason Todd, Dead on Main ship, Danny Fenton/Cassandra Cain, Dead Silent, Danny Fenton/Tim Drake, Brain Dead, Dead Tired, Danny Fenton/Damian Wayne, Dead Serious, Jazz Fenton/Jason Todd, Anger Management ship, Hardcover, Jazz Fenton/Cassandra Cain, Silent Jasmines, Dani Phantom/Damian Wayne, Serious Chaos, Double Edged ship, Dani Phantom/Mar'i Grayson, Space Princess, Demon Twins.

Under “DP content” are listed: Danny Phantom, Phandom, Phanart, Phanfic, Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Vlad Masters, Vlad Plasmius, Ghost King Danny, Ghost Zone, Infinite Realms, A Glitch in Time, Amity Park, Nasty Burger, Everlasting Trio, Badger Cereal, Dan Phantom, Valerie Gray, Team Phantom, Jazz Fenton, Clockwork, Skulker, Fenton, Jack Fenton, Maddie Fenton, Eldritch danny, Fright Knight. end]

#dpxdc #batpham server #batfam #tagging both parent fandoms only because they need to know what to block and what to tag if they're getting into it #Danny Phantom #dp #dp crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x yj #batman #danny fenton #dc comics #dc universe #justice league #young justice #batfamily #phandom

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jnginlov · 10 months

Text

ateez as romantic tropes

⇀ genre fluff, angst, comedy

⇀ style blurbs

⇀ wc listed per member (between 1.1k and 2.2k)

⇀ warnings all readers are gender neutral, listed per member

⇀ reactions from the gc “Yep mhm would def swoon over him yes mhm yep” “BRUH I give you all of your content for free” “I need Yunho to help me obliterate my kitchen cabinets” “Losing my mf mind over him”

note word count variation does not reflect any preference for specific members, some stories just felt like they needed more backstory or had more action

home for the holidays

⇀ pairing hs crush!seonghwa x hs crush!reader

⇀ wc 1.5k

⇀ warnings mentions of food

“seonghwa! come in!” his mother greeted him at the door of his childhood home, ushering him inside quickly before enveloping him in a warm hug.

she bombarded him with questions about his life in seoul, what he’d been eating, how he’d been sleeping, as he removed his shoes. he tried to keep up with all of her fussing as he dragged his suitcase down the hall and into his bedroom but he could barely get out more than a few words before she was moving onto her next thought.

“anyway, your father went out to pick up some tofu so i could make you sundubu-jjigae,” she explains before she’s cut off by the sound of the doorbell and the kitchen timer going off simultaneously.

“i‘ll get the door,” seonghwa volunteers before his mother can say anything else, and pads back to where he had been only moments prior.

he’s not exactly sure what he expected on the other side of the door, especially so late in the evening, but he thinks he might be able to feel every nerve ending on his body alight when he opens the door to find you.

you look both severely different and exactly the same as when he’d last seen you, minus the lack of your high school’s blue uniform. of course you’ve changed your hair, your style seems to have improved as well, but mostly you just look more mature, more you, if that’s possible.

“oh, seonghwa,” you chirp, your surprise evident on your face, “i didn’t know you were back.”

“i didn’t know you were still in town,” he counters, his expression mirroring your own.

you don’t say anything, simply trying to process that the boy you’d had a crush on in high school had become, well, a man. he was considerably more attractive than he had been years ago, if that was even possible, and he almost seemed to hold himself with more confidence even if he was just standing in the middle of the entryway of his childhood home. you try to urge your mind to stay in the present but it can’t help but dig up your old memories of high school seonghwa and all the reasons you should have told him you liked him back then.

when you don’t say anything, seonghwa speaks up, asking, “is there something i can do for you?”

you suddenly are remembering your mission and the tote bag that’s weighing down your shoulder, housing the reason you’ve been coming to his parents house for the past few months.

“right!” you say, taking one of the containers out of your bag and presenting it to seonghwa. “this is for your mom.”

just as you mention her, seonghwa can hear his mom shuffling down the hall behind him, her slippers slapping against the wood floor to announce her coming.

“y/n is that you?” she says once she’s right behind her son. “well don’t make them stand outside,” she scolds seonghwa, gesturing for him to move so that you can step past the threshold.

“hi mrs park,” you greet his mother with a bow, still holding the container in your hands as you trade your outside shoes for the guest slippers.

“you shouldn’t be walking this late by yourself dear,” she scolds gently before heading back to the kitchen, you pittering after her lightly.

for a moment seonghwa stands in shock, doorknob still clutched in his hand and gears turning in his head. since when had you become friends with his mom? and since when did you start knowing which ones were the guest slippers? and since when had he started to miss you?

“and i wanted to get it to you while it was fresh.”

seonghwa joins you both in the kitchen and catches the tail end of your statement, presumably an explanation as to why you’re walking to his house so late.

“it would have been perfectly fine tomorrow,” his mother only replies, removing the lid from the container you’d given her and revealing a loaf of, what looked to be, homemade bread.

“it’s a cinnamon milk bread,” you say and seonghwa turns to see you looking at him. he doesn’t say anything in response and you simply smile, turning back to his mother after just a moment. his mind is still reeling as he watches you, stood casually in the kitchen as though you belong here. you hold none of the awkwardness that normally is present when someone visits another’s home for the first time and some little voice in the back of his mind tells him that it feels domestic. of course, he tries to push that thought away.

“here,” his mother says after she’s transferred the bread into her own container and returned yours, “you should stay for dinner. i’m making sundubu-jjigae.”

you shake your head, a slight look of hesitation on your face and seonghwa assumes that you’ve probably stayed for dinner plenty when he was gone. “that sounds delicious but i should be getting back. i have another loaf cooling on my counter that i need to pack up,” you explain.

“well at least have seonghwa walk you back,” she suggests, and you’re obviously about to decline, based on your body language, when seonghwa insists.

you agree then, not putting up much of a fight once you know his mother isn’t forcing him for her own satisfaction, making your way back out and beginning a steady trek back to your own house.

“how’s seoul?” you ask after a beat, not wanting to walk in awkward silence the entire way.

“it’s nice,” he says simply before adding, “busy.”

you nod in understanding. “i’m sure.”

“how are you?” he asks.

as you turn to look at him again, your eyes crinkling slightly as you grin, he feels like he’s never left his hometown. he’s still sat in his desk at school watching you laugh with your friends across the room during lunch. you would always notice him staring, turning and presenting him the same warm smile you give him now.

he realizes in this moment that he wishes he’d told you, all those years ago, about what his friends always teased him for, about how much he liked you, because now it’s manifested into a gentle ache that seems to pull him back, to that time and to you. he guesses there’s a reason that people say distance makes the heart grow fonder.

you notice the expression on his face, the same one he wore in high school when he was deep in thought. not one that would appear during a test or when studying but one that would show when he was debating with his friends or talking about his future.

“what are you thinking about?” you ask to break the silence, genuine curiosity sparkling behind your eyes.

“hmmm nothing i guess,” he tries to play it off but you give him a suspicious look. “school,” he tries again, being broad about his approach.

“i guess that is the last time we saw each other,” you say and he wonders if you remember it all as clearly as him.

you toss around the idea of admitting what you never had to anyone before and maybe it’s something in the comfort of the night air or just the way seonghwa’s eyes are so focused on you but you decide that if you never say anything now you’ll surely regret it.

“you know,” you continue after another moment of silence, “i had a crush on you in high school.”

seonghwa feels his heart stop for a moment, his entire body consumed by a warmth that’s surely tinged his skin red as he tries to remember how to breath and walk at the same time.

“really?” he huffs, hoping you don’t notice how wobbly his steps have gotten.

“yeah, i don’t know, you were just really sweet and cute,” you elaborate and seonghwa can’t tell if he wants you to stop talking or continue, your voice starting to overlap with his heartbeat in his ears.

he’s so distracted trying to control himself, he almost doesn’t notice when you’ve stopped in front of your house. he certainly doesn’t notice the sly smile that’s stretched across your face, indicating that you’ve clearly observed his reaction to your news.

“how long are you going to be in town?” you ask, fiddling with the strap of your tote bag and urging your heart to stop beating up against your rib cage.

“just two weeks,” he manages to say in between deep breaths to calm his own pulse, eyes wide and lips parted slightly.

“well, let me know if you’re free at any point,” you say, preparing to take the final leap. “we can get coffee or something.”

he nods as you turn to walk toward your door and seonghwa, for the first time, feels his mouth moving before he can stop it.

“what about dinner? tomorrow?”

you turn back, smile beautifully complimenting the blush on your cheeks, and nod.

“see you then.”

foreigner

⇀ pairing white knight!hongjoong x traveler!reader

⇀ wc 1.1k

⇀ warnings implied panic attack/crying in public, street harassment, creepy middle aged guy

note i always find random hangul in fics annoying but for this you don’t need to understand what he’s saying because the whole point is you don’t

of course you would manage to get lost in the biggest city in korea on your first day of your month long trip. you’d planned for almost everything, except, of course, navigating through the intricate seoul subway system. to be fair, your friend joomi had promised to pick you up from the airport before she’d been called in on a work emergency. you had assured her that you could find your way to her apartment on your own but now, as you stood on the wrong side of the platform, watching yet another train, that would have taken you toward your destination, leave, you’re not so sure anymore.

you huff in frustration, the wheels on your suitcase clicking against the tiles as you try to find an empty bench, hoping that you can maybe collect your thoughts before you start to feel the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes. you try not to think of how you might look right now, stale from your flight, sweaty from running between trains, and slightly pathetic from being overwhelmed by something everyone else seems to have mastered.

you quickly abandon your bench search as your phone tells you how long you would have to wait for the next train and you weigh the worth of spending an hour and a half sitting in the stuffy station or dragging your suitcase around the street above, settling on trying to maybe just find a convenience store or some place to grab a coffee.

luckily the area you’re stranded doesn’t seem too crowded, the streets easy to navigate without having to serpentine between people with your month worth of luggage. you find a semi empty convenience store pretty easy enough, paying for a couple snacks, an ice cup, and a drink with ease, conscious of the way the other people in the shop are doing double takes at you, likely due to your suitcase and the duffle on your shoulder.

you’ve never been more grateful to korean convenience stores and their included seating as right now, able to finally take a breath as you sit with your food.

as you try to mind your business, texting joomi to update her about where you are and the predicament you’re in, you can almost feel a burning gaze coming from one of the tables diagonal your own. you try to ignore it, as you did with the gazes earlier, but it feels different, somehow predatory.

“이봐, 너는 어디서 왔니?”

you look up to see a man, probably in his late 50s, starring intensely at you, confirming your suspicions about his watching you.

when you don’t respond, he says something else in korean, something you can’t understand with your limited knowledge of the language, and you try not to panic, but as he stands, seemingly trying to make his way over to you, you feel your heartbeat skyrocketing.

“i don’t-“ you start, gripping your phone tightly as you flounder for what to do.

the man takes another step toward you, saying something else that you can only assume isn’t nice from the way he seems to snarl it and reaching out to grab the handle of your suitcase that you’d placed behind the chair across from you but before he can take hold of your bag it’s being pulled away by a different man, someone who looks to be around your own age.

he addresses the older man with a forced smile, obviously angered at the situation and you try to interpret what is happening before you. you can’t understand a word either man is saying, trying too hard to just process the situation you’re in, but eventually the older man leaves, your savior watching intently to make sure he’s really gone before turning to you.

“you, uh, speak english?” he asks, finally rolling your suitcase back to where you’d originally placed it, although you assume it’s more of a courtesy question as he’d probably heard your unsettled words when trying to address the other man.

you nod, a gentle “yes” escaping you as you try to parse what this new man wants from you.

“are you okay?” he asks gently.

you try to search his eyes for any sense of danger but all you can see is worry.

“i’m fine,” you say with a little more certainty than before.

“good,” he says with a slight sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing. he looks between you and your suitcase once before speaking up again. “what are you doing here?”

you take a moment to decide whether to tell him or not but you assume if he had wanted to harm you that he wouldn’t have stepped in to help you before, and so you tell him, “i’m waiting for a train, it doesn’t come for another hour.”

he nods in understanding.

“what’s your name?” you feel yourself ask before you register what you’re actually doing.

“ah, my name is hongjoong,” he replies.

all of his words are slow, deliberate, as he speaks to you, a contrast to how quickly he was talking in korean only moments ago.

you try to slow down your own words as you ask, “how do you know english?”

he seems to almost perk up at that, interested to tell you, “oh, i’m learning right now. sorry if my grammar is bad.”

you shake your head quickly, “no, no. you’re fine. i’m just glad i have someone to talk to.”

he hums in understanding before asking, “what is your name?”

you introduce yourself, even spelling out your name for him, before you notice the plastic bag in his hands.

“oh, would you like to,” you trail off, gesturing to the seat across from you in invitation.

he seems hesitant and you almost want to take back your offer before he says, “you are sure?”

you nod with a gentle smile and he mirrors your expression, helping you move your duffle onto the ground beneath your table and taking a seat across from you.

you talk casually with hongjoong for the rest of your wait, letting him give you a list of things you should try to do with your time in seoul.

“isn’t the han river more of a date spot?” you question as he collects both of your trash into his plastic bag.

“you could take your partner,” he says, glancing at you and you know he’s trying to gauge your reaction as his ears tint pink.

“oh!” you quip, your own face blooming with warmth. “uhm no, i don’t have a boyfriend or anything,” you rush to say, flicking your gaze between the table and the floor.

“then, what if we went?” hongjoong practically whispers and your eyes shoot up to his face, his now as red as yours.

boy next door

⇀ paring mechanic!yunho x house flipper!reader

⇀ wc 1.5k

⇀ warnings mentions of food, eating, suggestive, allusions to sex, recent breakup, mentions of a cheating ex, imagining hitting said cheating ex

maybe you should have listened to your friends that told you flipping a house all by yourself was a bit ambitious, but they should have known telling you that would only make you want to do it more. your family might have called you stubborn but you liked to frame it as strong-willed. so here you sat, covered in streaks of paint as you ate your lunch on the floor of a kitchen that was still wholly unusable while the fresh varnish on the living room walls started to dry.

you had yet to buy any furniture, an air mattress your only comfort at night, after selling everything from your apartment in the city. all of it was stained by memories of your ex, moments you’d shared together before he’d told you he’d been seeing someone else behind your back for months.

it’s fine, you could use a change of scenery anyway.

the suburbs were treating you well so far, the neighbor on your right a little old lady, ms. lee, that housed and cared for the feral cats in the area who had given you the most delicious treats she made herself as a house warming gift. you’d expected your other neighbor to be similar, or maybe a little family like most suburbs attracted, but what you had experienced yesterday was far from family friendly.

you’d come back from the hardware store around noon, buckets of paint weighing you down as you made your way up the driveway. you had spotted your neighbor’s garage door open and a shiny, certainly vintage, black car peaking out from inside. however, what you hadn’t noticed when sat in your own car, but were certainly aware of now that you could see inside perfectly, was a man, clad in a black tank top and track pants, leaning into the open hood of the black car.

you weren’t the type that normally stared at people, preferring to mind your business in most public spaces, but how could you not when a man built like a greek god, skin glowing from his efforts, was grunting in frustration as his arms flexed to adjust something in the depths of the vehicle, muscles defined so clearly as he fixed whatever was wrong. you tried not to think about how long it had been since you’d last gotten intimate with anyone, your ex seemingly uninterested every time you had tried to initiate anything for such a long time that you were surely only projecting your frustrations onto the poor man in front of you.

“hey! you must be the new neighbor.”

oh no, how long had you been staring.

“oh! yeah, i just moved in.”

although he had to have noticed you checking him out, he didn’t say anything about your ogling, a warm smile adorning his handsome face instead of the disgusted snarl you were prepared for.

“you’re fixing her up all by yourself?” he asks with a tick of his chin toward your house and you’re guessing he’d talked to ms. lee after she visited you.

“that’s the plan,” you nod with a chuckle, still feeling awkward from having been caught gawking at your new hot neighbor.

“my name’s yunho,” he introduces, cleaning a spot of grease off his hands with a rag before tossing it over his shoulder gently. “i’m not particularly known for my design skills but, if you ever need someone to hammer a nail or lift something heavy, feel free to ring my bell.”

you tried not to think of the double meaning of that last phrase, begging your mind to climb out of the gutter, and assured him you would before trying not to trip over your own feet on the way up to your front door.

and so your lunch break was spent thinking about the hot guy next door and how you could manage to avoid him for the rest of your life in order to steer clear of embarrassing yourself any further. of course, you could never expect for your life to go as planned.

the next week you’ve moved your focus into the kitchen, starting with the god awful cabinets that were certainly installed without a thought to the house’s time period or even functionality. although it was physically strenuous, taking a hammer to the cheap wood of those horrible cabinets was certainly helping you release some of the anger that had been simmering since the breakup. Maybe you should have printed out a picture of your ex’s face and taped it inside.

you were so focused, and making a pretty loud ruckus, that you almost didn’t hear the sound of your doorbell ringing. trying to think of who could possibly be interested in visiting you at 3 pm on a tuesday, you made your way to your front door, leaving your hammer in the kitchen but keeping your gloves on. you would have looked through the peephole of your door to determine if it was worth opening but of course the last owner of the property felt that a peephole wasn’t necessary. although, as you open the door to your neighbor, the hottie not the lady, you’re not sure a peephole would have changed your mind.

he’s in a simple outfit today, just a white t-shirt and dark jeans, but you still have to resist giving him a full glance up and down. his hair is slightly damp and based on the way you can clearly smell his smoky vanilla shampoo you can guess he’s just had a shower.

“hi,” you greet, trying not to think of the way you’re certainly looking and smelling like you’ve been dunked in a pool of your own sweat, your house currently without air conditioning and it being late spring.

“hey,” he says, the same warm smile making a reappearance as he stands on your porch.

he doesn’t say anything else and you almost wonder if maybe the heat is starting to get to you. could this be a dehydration induced hallucination?

“can i help you?” you ask after feeling like you’ve been making enough awkward eye contact, although yunho’s smile hasn’t budged.

“right!” he chirps, as though remembering what he’s doing. “i just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead or anything. i heard a lot of things breaking and some yelling, so just wanted to make sure you’re alive.” he nods, his hair bouncing slightly and for a moment he really looks like a big puppy, eyes expectant and big as he waits for you to say something.

“oh, sorry,” you apologize, not even aware that you had been yelling but to be fair, you had been really sucked into the vision of getting to hit your ex with a hammer and make him as broken as you’d felt. “i was just taking out some anger on the old kitchen cabinets.”

he cocks his head to the side and again you find your mind drawing up another comparison to a puppy. you wonder if anyone’s ever told him that before.

“you’re taking out the cabinets?” he asks, almost seeming worried and you raise a brow.

“yeah,” you say, trying not to sound defensive and hoping he doesn’t have some sort of secret attachment to the fixtures. “they don’t fit the house and they barely functioned before.”

he shakes his head at your clarification and now it’s your own turn to tilt your head in confusion.

“you’re doing that by yourself? i thought i said you could ask for my help with heavy lifting,” he explains his worry and you don’t get a chance to respond before he’s starting to walk back to his house. “i’m gonna grab some gloves and another hammer,” he calls from your yard as you watch him go. “i’ll be right back.”

so you spent the afternoon destroying your kitchen with the neighbor you had vowed to stay away from only a few days before. to your credit, you did try to refuse his help, insisting that you could do it and telling him about the lack of a/c, but of course he stood firm, pointing out that he’d already made the effort to grab his own gloves and tools. maybe you’d met your match in terms of stubbornness.

“thank you,” you’d said with sincerity as you both sat on the floor of your now bare kitchen, open pizza box between you that you were regretting letting him pay for but, again, he had insisted. “there’s gotta be some way i can pay you back,” you said as you took another bite of your slice, eyes looking at the man across from you expectantly.

“well, i can think of one way,” he says, placing his half eaten slice on his plate and brushing off his hands.

you perk up at this, eager to know what you can do to make sure he knows how appreciative you are.

“let me take you out to dinner,” he suggests and you’re glad that you’re already sitting or your knees might have buckled and forced you to sit anyway.

opposites attract

⇀ paring hydrophobic!yeosang x lifeguard!reader

⇀ wc 2.2k

⇀ warnings slightly suggestive, he’s not literally hydrophobic he’s just a hater, mention of drowning, drinking alcohol (not you)

yeosang has spent every summer since he could remember avoiding the one place his friends had managed to finally persuade him into visiting, the local water park.

now it’s not that he was deathly afraid of being in the water, in fact his parents told him that he used to love swimming as a toddler, but he just didn’t see the appeal of anything that swimming and pools had to offer. the hot ass sun forcing you to reapply sunscreen every few hours, the screaming children that would make your head pound, the gross water that had surely seen every bodily fluid, and, worst of all, the annoying ass lifeguards that yeosang just knew were judging everyone with their hypercritical stares.

“you need some vitamin d,” wooyoung says, rubbing in the sunscreen he’d just put onto his arms until the cream had become sheer. “you can’t just sit in front of your computer every day.”

yeosang scowls as his best friend passes him the sunscreen, hesitantly squeezing some of it onto his legs.

“especially if you’re trying to get back into dating,” san adds as he removes his shirt, tossing it onto the picnic table the group had claimed.

“who’s dating?” yunho asked as he joined the group, setting his bag down and pushing his sunglasses up to sit on top of his head, ready to apply sunscreen onto his face when yeosang passed the bottle to him.

“yeosang,” wooyoung says as he shoves his flip flops off, leaving them where they lay and stretching his arms above his head.

“you’re dating someone?” yunho questions, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“not yet,” san answers for him just as yeosang opens his mouth and he gives san an annoyed look.

“hey boys!”

suddenly, all three of yeosang’s friends are lighting up as they turn toward the source of the voice unfamiliar to him. each of them perks up as they return the greeting of the stranger, a lifeguard that was headed in the direction of yeosang and his friends.

“y/n!” san calls your name excitedly as you approach, stopping just outside of the shadow from the umbrella attached to the table.

“i didn’t know you were working today,” yunho says, finishing up his sunscreen application as he smiles brightly at you.

yeosang tries not to let his nerves show on his face as his eyes flick between you and his friends, always a little on edge when meeting new people but especially when that new person is particularly attractive. you’re wearing what he assumes is the typical uniform, a pair of short red swim trunks that show off your legs and a tight white tank top that leaves little to the imagination. he tries to resist the urge to let his eyes roam over the skin that’s exposed by your uniform, glowing from the summer sun, and instead he focuses on your face, shaded by the red visor you wear but expression as bright as though you’re channeling the beams from the sky above you. yeosang is tempted to bask in their warmth as your gaze flicks over to him but instead he looks away, trying to look busy as he rummages through his bag for nothing.

“sua called off today,” you explain, “so here i am.” you shrug as you gesture around yourself.

“oh, this is yeosang,” san speaks up with a harsh slap to his friends shoulder and yeosang flinches away from the touch before shoving san’s hand off.

“yeosang, this is y/n,” wooyoung provides, sliding toward you, “our favorite lifeguard.”

at his statement you reach up to pinch at wooyoung’s cheek, giving it a little shake as you let out a coo, “aw. i would say you’re my favorite patrons but i’m not in the habit of lying.” you chuckle lightly as wooyoung swats your hand away from his face with a pout.

“nice to meet you yeosang,” you greet him easily, nodding slightly and he’s thankful you didn’t reach out to shake his hand.

“you too,” he lies, not at all happy to meet someone who chooses to torture themselves out in the heat as a job.

“okay, well i’ve got to continue making my rounds, just wanted to say hi,” you explain as you back away from the group, headed back on the main path next to the pool you’re all closest to. “if you guys are staying for night swim i’m gonna be stationed at the wave pool so feel free to come chat.”

night swim, the only reason yeosang agreed to come. the local park had an adult only, alcohol provided, swim night that they hosted every other week. they would close down the more dangerous parts of the park, like the deep ends of the pools and the giant water slides, and just let people chill out in things like the wave pool and even go on the kiddie slides.

yeosang had agreed for the alcohol and the offer to be able to sit at the edge of the pool while his friends enjoyed trying not to drown as they wrested in the water. unfortunately he was not aware he would be dragged to the park while the sun was still out or when his friends were going to be chatting up the cute lifeguard the whole time, and he is an adult so he can admit you’re cute.

“you good?” yunho asks, noticing yeosang staring after you. the latter hadn’t even noticed he’d been looking straight at your butt as you retreated until his friend snapped him from his thoughts and he hoped he could blame the redness on his cheeks being the summer heat.

“yeah, yeah,” yeosang nodded finally pulling his arm out of his bag as he tried to anticipate what the group was about to pressure him to do.

he really did try to fight to just stay under the umbrella until the sun set but of course wooyoung needed him to go down the slides with him before they closed for the night and yunho had to show him the lazy river before it would be crowded with other drunk people and san demanded to go off the diving boards together before the deep end was off limits. so, because yeosang is a good friend, and his friends were extremely annoying when they whined, he did all of it. he honestly wasn’t as upset about the situation as he thought he might be, even finding himself sometimes enjoying the whole affair, but he would never admit that, he had a reputation to uphold.

lucky for yeosang and his reputation, the afternoon went by quickly and families with their sticky children trickled out as the sun set behind the horizon, initiating the start of night swim. of course as soon as he and his friends had finished their first drink and started sipping on their second yunho was quick to remind them about you over at the wave pool.

“i think i’m just gonna go back to the lazy river,” yeosang said with a jerk of his thumb toward the stack of intertubes behind himself.

“what why?” san asks, slipping his towel back off his shoulders.

“the lazy river is packed,” yunho adds, eyebrows scrunched as he looks over at it before turning to look at the wave pool that’s comparably more deserted.

wooyoung on the other hand has been paying a little too much attention to his best friend, noticing how yeosang’s eyes would flit over to you whenever you passed them during the day, and his lips curl up into the smile he always wears when he’s messing with someone. “i’m sure y/n would love to get to know you,” wooyoung grins, eyebrows wiggling before he sends yeosang a dramatic wink.

san’s mouth quickly forms an o as he realizes what wooyoung is implying and yunho just rolls his eyes at their antics, however neither are helping as wooyoung wraps his fingers around yeosang’s wrist and starts tugging him in the direction of the wave pool.

he can do nothing as he approaches the pool, not really in the mood to make a scene even if he could feel his heart climbing into his throat with every step that led them closer to you.

once the group is in sight you wave, sat on the edge of the pool with a float tube on your lap and feet dangling in the water. both of the lifeguard chairs are occupied and yeosang assumes that, because of the alcohol involved and the shutting down of half the park, lifeguards are double booked at the open areas, another lifeguard sat opposite you on the other side of the wave pool.

you smile brightly as wooyoung drags yeosang toward the edge of the pool, san and yunho shuffling behind. the latter two boys easily step into the water, not too interested in being involved in whatever scheme wooyoung has cooked up. wooyoung however ignores the pool in favor of sidling up right next to you.

you have to crane your neck to look up at the boys and yeosang moves his head to look at the water, feeling like a little kid as wooyoung still hasn’t let go of his wrist and does the talking for him.

“hey,” wooyoung greets you easily. “yeosang’s not a fan of the wave pool. do you mind if he sits with you while we swim?”

it’s not an entire lie, this spot being yeosang’s least favorite in the whole park, but he’s not too interested in sitting next to you in silence while his friends laugh at him. he knows it will be silent because he’s certainly not confident enough to start conversation, plus you have a whole job to do, and he’s certain his friends will be laughing at him because they’ve already noticed his attraction to you.

“sure,” you agree, to a bit of shock from yeosang, and pat the concrete next to you, shifting the tube on your lap so that it’s not in the way.

“great!” wooyoung declares but yeosang certainly doesn’t agree as he gets shoved to the spot you patted and a harsh push on his shoulder encourages him to take a seat. “have fun,” wooyoung adds before he’s scurrying off to join yunho and san.

there’s barely enough time to process that his best friend has abandoned him before you’re speaking up.

“so, not a fan of the wave pool,” you prompt and yeosang spares a glance at you.

you’re still looking over the pool, scanning for any danger or situations to whistle at people about.

“uh yeah,” he answers plainly, placing the cup he’s surprised didn’t spill during wooyoung’s tugging on the ground between you two. “i mean, don’t really like water parks in general so,” he explains with a shrug, venturing to put one of his legs into the edge of the pool, the other still tucked underneath him.

“really?” you ask like you’re actually surprised, like you’ve never actually met someone that didn’t like a water park, but based on your profession he’s sure you probably don’t often run into people who don’t frequent any pool.

he doesn’t answer, just shrugging once more as he watches the way the water ripples whenever he shifts his foot under the water.

“any particular reason?” you ask and yeosang ventures another glance at you, this time making eye contact with him as you’ve turned your head to face him. “i mean you don’t seem to be scared of water or anything,” you say as you gesture toward his leg that hangs off the ledge.

instead of returning to hold your float tube you place the hand you’d used on the concrete, leaning toward yeosang just slightly and he can smell a hint of the sunscreen you’d been reapplying through the day as well as something that he assumes is a cologne or perfume you must of sprayed on during your break. it makes his brain feel a bit fuzzy as you tilt your head at him, waiting for an answer.

“uh, i don’t know.” he can practically hear wooyoung judging his bland response and tries to rack his brain for anything else to say. “just don’t find it interesting i guess.”

you hum in acknowledgment, nodding slowly as you observe yeosang and even though the hot sun went down over an hour ago he feels like he might melt.

“so there’s nothing specific about it you hate?” you pry, taking another quick glance over the pool to make sure no one drowned when you weren’t looking before you return your gaze to the man beside you.

yeosang reaches out for his drink and realizes a moment too late how close your hand is to the cup, his fingers brushing against your warm skin and causing a tingle to shoot up his arm. you don’t mention the contact but yeosang swears he sees the corner of your mouth tick up as he takes a swig of his beverage, placing the cup on the other side of himself once he’s swallowed.

“no secret hate for lifeguards or anything right?” you continue to interrogate him, a teasing tone seeping into your words.

he could mention how he thinks you’re all overbearing and judgemental but he’s not sure that would work in his favor right now considering you don’t seem to actually be all that bad.

“no,” he says with a shake of his head, eyes not leaving your own.

at that your smile seems to grow, eyes holding a sparkle of something yeosang can’t quite read.

“good,” you respond, “because that would make asking you out a lot harder.”

marriage pact

⇀ paring ex best friend!san x heartbroken!reader

⇀ wc 1.1k

⇀ warnings therapy mentions/appointment, previous heartbreak, reader feels a lot of guilt, reader cries, cursing

you wish, with everything in your power, that you could reverse time, or maybe just knock some sense into your 14 year old self, and maybe you technically could, if you only shoved everything back in the shoebox and put it back on the shelf. then it would sit where it had for years before, except instead of dust, it would collect guilt, your guilt, every time you passed and remembered what was in it. your high school diary, a few birthday cards, notes with ink so faded the words were indecipherable, a paper clipped stack of photo booth strips, and one intact copy of the marriage pact you’d made with your best friend choi san, well, your high school best friend. why did you have to find it now, just as you’re reaching the age which you’d either need to be already married or fulfill your half of the contract by saying “i do”?

you think for a moment that you could simply throw out the entire box, but you’re too sentimental for that, it’s why the box had been with you so long in the first place, but now the memories, that should have been happily contained, have come to seep back into your life and the heartbreak taints every single one.

you could throw away just the pact, but your trash stinks enough already and you can practically hear the voice of your therapist telling you how it’s just an opportunity, an excuse, to reach out and maybe mend something that’s been broken for so long.

damn her for being right all the time.

and so you call, hoping his number is still the same or you’ll have wasted all your worrying for nothing. there’s nothing to indicate it’s his voicemail box, the generic computer voice reading out it’s typical prompt, but you might as well. if it’s a wrong number they’ll simply never call you back and you’ll go on with your life, as best you can.

“hey, i’m not sure if this is the right number. i’m trying to reach choi san. i’m-“ you pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to describe yourself. “i’m an old friend,” you settle on. “so, yeah. if you can give me a call back, i just needed,” you pause again. did you need to? maybe you should’ve written a script just in case. “wanted,” you amend, “to talk.” you pause again, wondering how you should end before the line beeps, signaling it’s been ended for you.

at your appointment the next day, your therapist seems proud, even as you try to change the subject, work around your feelings. she manages, as she always does, to steer you back on track, approach your emotions head on, and as she makes you recount the memories, and sensations, attached to the items in the shoebox, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. your first instinct is to silence it and so you do, barely registering the action before you’re sucked back into your session. only after you’ve penciled in your next meeting do you register that you’d sent a call to voicemail.

“hi y/n,” he starts easily and his voice has the hair on the back of your neck rising.

“i’m sorry i missed your call yesterday,” and he sounds genuinely apologetic. “i actually wanted to talk to you too i was just really busy until right now. i’m free for the rest of the day, so if you get a chance call me back. lo-“ your breath hitches at his mistake, forcing you to realize how shallowly you’d been inhaling the entirety of the message. “bye,” he concludes, an emptiness in his tone, before the message ends.

as you sit in your car, still in the parking lot of your therapist’s office, you remember that you had intentionally left out your name when leaving your message and that even after all these years, all this time apart, he can still recognize you by your voice alone, no matter how garbled by phone speaker quality.

you toss around the idea of waiting until you get back to your place to call but you can feel the nerves starting to tangle your stomach and are certain that you’ll have talked yourself out of it by the time you would get there. instead, you call back.

he picks up on the second ring.

“hi.”

he sounds like he’s smiling and you hope that’s a good sign, not an indication that he’s about to laugh at you and tell you to fuck off.

“hi,” you breath in response, probably a little pathetic.

“you wanted to talk?” he supplies and if you could get out of your own head you might pin the statement as sounding a bit teasing, maybe even a hint flirty, but you can barely register anything when everything you’ve wanted to say for the past few years is suddenly all mingling at the front of your consciousness.

“uh yeah,” you confirm plainly, trying to will your mouth to create any other sound.

as if he can sense your distress, just as he always had, san speaks up for you and says the words that had settled on the back of your tongue, “do you remember that pact we made when we were 14?”

in the moment you feel like it’s the right thing to say but as soon as the words are out of your mouth you anticipate the moments you’ll lie awake at night berating yourself for them.

“i love you and i’m sorry i made you hate me.”

you feel like you’re waiting for the storm to finally hit as your words are met with pregnant silence, san’s breath on the other end of the line as clear as if he were sat in your passenger seat, and for a moment you allow yourself to imagine just that.

“i never hated you,” he says with clear exasperation, seemingly surprised. “have you thought i’ve hated you this whole time?”

you nod shakily before remembering that he can’t see you and muttering a broken, “yes.”

“i’m so sorry,” he acknowledges before shushing you gently, and only at the sound of his comfort do you realize that you had started sobbing.

you try to calm yourself, your heavy breaths pacifying into watery hiccups as san eases you back from your sudden emotional release.

“can i tell you something?” san says after a moment and you nod once again before chuckling at yourself and verbally confirming he can.

“i love you too,” he says with an ease that almost makes you jealous. “so can we talk more about that pact?”

love at first sight

⇀ paring clumsy!mingi x er nurse!reader

⇀ wc 1.9k

⇀ warnings lots of eye talk, hospital setting

it was well known in the er that the full moon night shift was bound to be chaotic, something about the energy of the phase making people feel like they’re invincible and leading them to accidents that seemed next to impossible to occur. even if you weren’t superstitious about any of that astrological stuff, you couldn’t ignore the evidence as this night, like every full moon before it, brought you a plethora of patients that each had a problem more severe or strange than the last. you were quickly running out of beds and soon you’d run out of space in the waiting room as you noticed another person entering through the sliding glass doors.

“this is the busiest i’ve ever seen it,” chae, the triage nurse stationed at the front desk says as you move past her to the file folder, ready to grab the next patient to take back. she was new to the emergency department, a sweetheart who’d done all her clinicals in your pediatrics department and therefore had never seen the full moon effect.

“your first full moon,” you note, digging through the file folder to pull out the next one and look at the name. “you’re doing great,” you note with a gentle pat on her shoulder.

she smiles at you appreciatively before turning to address the patient quickly approaching the desk.

you take a glance into the file in your hands. “painful eyes, difficulty seeing. possible hazardous material in eyes,” the intake form reads and you sigh. what does “possible” mean in this situation?

“song mingi,” you call out into the waiting area and a rather tall man, eyes shut tightly, pops up from his seat immediately, another shorter man following suit and reaching out a hand to stabilize the taller as he stumbles. they both make their way to you, the shorter guiding the taller so he doesn’t bump into anyone or anything on his way.

“mingi?” you ask gesturing toward the one who clearly is having eye problems while looking at the other, seemingly fine, man and he only nods.

“i’m his brother, hongjoong,” the shorter one says and they don’t seem to resemble each other very much but you think nothing of it, more interested in treating your patient, who appears to be in quiet a bit of pain, then anything else.

“you can both follow me,” you say, scanning your badge to open the door and moving just slower than you might normally to allow hongjoong to lead mingi.

once you arrive to one of the empty rooms hongjoong guides mingi to sit on the bed, muttering about how stupid he is, before taking a seat himself on one of the plastic chairs off to the side.

you pay no mind to the muffled communication of the men as you place mingi’s folder onto the counter next to the sink and move to start taking his vitals. they both go silent as you wrap the blood pressure cuff around his arm, clipping the pulse oximeter onto his finger as well.

all of his vitals come back normal, only slightly elevated, as expected, because of the stress and pain, and you note them onto his chart.

“so what did you do to your eyes,” you ask as you go to remove the blood pressure cuff.

“uh well,” mingi starts his voice strained with a mix of pain and embarrassment, “i was trying to scare my friend and he was, uh, holding air freshener.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you assume what happened next in his story.

“okay,” you say with a nod, putting the cuff you’d removed back in the basket and taking down notes on his chart. “did you try rinsing your eyes?”

he swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing, and you let out a silent sigh as you prepare for whatever else must have went wrong.

“we tried,” he says a little shakily, “but the bottle must have had leftover cleaner or something in it.”

of course it did. you hold yourself back from asking how or why and glance at hongjoong who looks as exasperated as you feel, eyes closed and fingers massaging his temples.

“so you don’t know what the cleaner was?” you ask and mingi shakes his head, wincing as he squeezes his eyes tighter.

“can i take a look at your eyes?” you ask as you set down his chart, grabbing the pen light out of your scrub pocket.

“uh sure,” he says but you can hear the hesitation once again.

“okay, i’m going to hold your eye open for a second,” you explain, adjusting the bed so that his eyes are level with your own. “i’m going to shine a light into them just so i can make sure there’s no debris and they’re dilating properly.”

he gulps again and you know that he’s preparing for it to be painful.

“okay,” he says, a little more determined, and you place your fingers on his eyelid, starting with his left eye.

you try to move as quickly as you can, not wanting it to be too painful, but his hurt grunts are still audible as you check both eyes. fortunately, they’re dilating fine and you can’t see any damage or debris.

“they look alright,” you note aloud, slipping the light back in your pocket and writing more on his chart. “let’s just get your eyes properly flushed and some antibiotic drops in there, then we can see how they’re doing.”

mingi’s shoulders relax a little at this and you start to make your way toward the door, heading out to grab the irrigation tubing and kidney dish as well as ask another nurse to prepare the drops you’ll need.

“will he need to stay overnight?” hongjoong asks as you open the door and you turn back to him.

“we’ll want to keep him for at least an hour after we administer the drops to make sure that nothing gets worse but if he’s cleared up by then you’ll be able to go,” you explain and hongjoong nods as you leave.

flushing his eyes takes a moment as he fights to close his eyes a lot during the process, which is understandable, but the eye drops are worse, managing to get his eyes closed right before the solution hits his eyeball no matter how well you manage to hold his eye lids. eventually, with the help of another nurse holding his lids while you administer the drops, you manage to give him the proper dosage and leave him to check on another patient. you promise to return in an hour and instruct both men on how to use the nurse call button in case anything happens before then.

“he’s kind of cute,” chae, now munching on a granola bar as she takes her break behind the nurse’s station, says as you approach. “in like a himbo way,” she elaborates when you raise a brow at her, only shrugging as she take another bite.

you shake your head in slight disappointment. “he’s my patient,” you say. “i’m not really focused on how attractive he is.”

“so you agree he’s attractive,” chae chimes, peeking up for a moment before you roll your eyes.

“i’m not doing this with you again,” is your only response, moving past her to continue with your work.

an hour later you knock gently on the door of mingi’s room before entering to find hongjoong still in the plastic chair, phone in hand as he scrolls, and mingi asleep on the bed, the heartbeat monitor beeping quietly. you take that as a good sign.

“hello,” you greet hongjoong before you move toward the bed, preparing to wake your patient.

hongjoong greets you in return, tucking his phone away so he can pay attention to what you’re doing.

you take a brief glance at the heartbeat and oxygen monitor, noticing that his vitals are normal before taping mingi on the shoulder with enough force to jostle him awake. he grunts slightly before stretching, eyes scrunching up for a moment before they blink open.

“good morning,” you say with a teasing grin and mingi turns to face you.

suddenly the beeping of the monitor that had been steady and slow before is increasing rapidly and your head whips to look at it with surprise.

“you don’t have a heart condition do you?” you ask with concern, brows furrowing as you turn back to look at mingi once again.

his face and ears are bright red and his eyes go wide before he sits up with a start. “uh no, i don’t,” he rushes out, his words shaky as he lowers his gaze to his hands that now sit in his lap, messing with the clip on his pointer finger as though he wants to remove it.

“is everything okay?” you ask with genuine concern. “what’s wrong?”

mingi clears his throat and keeps his gaze firmly focused on his hands as he answers, “nothing. i just- you’re really cute.”

“oh my god,” you hear hongjoong huff in disbelief before his face drops into his hand, eyes covered in what you can only assume is embarrassment.

now it’s your turn to blush, a heat creeping onto your cheeks as you try to calm your own heart.

“oh,” you breathe, trying to collect your thoughts and remain professional. “thank you,” you say quickly before you hurry to take the clip off his finger, ignoring the heat of his skin against your own as your hand brushes his own.

“how are your eyes?” you ask, your own gaze moving about the room sheepishly.

“good,” he chirps, voice cracking slightly.

“good,” you mirror with a sharp nod. “i’m, uh, going to write you a prescription for antibiotic drops and just use those twice a day for the next two weeks,” you say, returning to business. “just come back if they get worse.”

mingi nods, still not looking at you and you clear your throat.

“thank you,” hongjoong says for mingi, and you nod in response.

you leave as quickly as you can, eager to be rid of the weird energy that had been created in the room. luckily your shift is close to over and one of the other nurse practitioners catches the way you’re acting a bit weird as you file the prescription, telling you to go home early and she’ll cover for you. you fight for a moment before finally giving in and deciding to make a quick stop at the 24-hour convenience store on the way home.

“oh!” a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts about which late night snack to pick and you turn quickly to see none other than song mingi standing before you, a look of surprise on his face as he looks at you.

“hi,” you squeak, just as surprised.

you feel your blush from earlier returning and turn back to face the shelf you’d been browsing.

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable before,” mingi says, keeping his distance but not looking away from you.

you shake your head and glance at him for a moment. “oh no,” you reassure, “i just wasn’t prepared.” you let out a slightly nervous laugh.

mingi hums thoughtfully and nods slowly, taking an experimental step toward you.

“could i ask you something?” he requests and you turn to face him fully.

“sure,” you reply with a gentle shrug.

“let me know if i’m overstepping,” he begins, eyes flicking from yours to the shelf of snacks and back, “but could i get your number?”

enemies to lovers

⇀ paring chef!wooyoung x host!reader

⇀ wc 2.1k

⇀ warnings wooyoung is mean, discussion of food and eating, mentions of bullying in high school

so maybe your job wasn’t the worst, and most of your coworkers were pretty manageable, but wooyoung, he’s what made it unbearable at times. you’d already asked your manager to be scheduled for when he wasn’t, but he’d explained that you were the best one up front and he was the best in the kitchen, so of course you’re both going to be scheduled during the restaurant’s busiest times. “plus maybe it will force you two to work out whatever’s wrong.”

what your manager didn’t account for was that there was no working out what was wrong, considering it had been nothing that you were aware of. wooyoung had simply looked at you on your first day and decided he hated you. could you have asked why? of course, but you’re not sure he would have told you because to every question you asked him he would simply huff and roll his eyes, telling you to ask someone else.

his little act had quickly gotten on your nerves and so you were fast to return his disdain, deciding that his uncalled for behavior was enough of a reason to hate him.

“you know, if you just talked to him you could make everyone’s lives just a little bit easier,” soonha, you’re favorite waitress, says as she unties her apron and makes sure all her pens are organized in the pockets before placing it in her locker.

she’d been listening to you complain about everything wooyoung had done during your shift that had pissed you off, from as small as walking in a minute late to the way he’d complained about you blocking his path when you were eating a snack in an empty corner of the kitchen, a spot you’d chosen because it was specifically out of the way. of course the worst had been when he’d sided with a patron that was lying about their wait time, almost getting you in trouble with the manager on duty before you actually showed her the patron’s check-in timer.

“he’s the one with the problem,” you scoff, pushing your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. “he should be the one talking to me. you know he didn’t even apologize today.”

soonha only rolls her eyes, shutting her locker before a look of surprise takes over her features and she’s whipping around to you.

“oh my gosh, i totally forgot i told kay that i would restock her citruses,” the waitress says, pulling out what you can assume is a list from the bartender, kay, of the number of lemons, limes, and oranges that needed to be brought up to the bar.

“hey let me do that,” you say, grabbing the slip of paper from her hand.

“are you sure?” she says, although the way she glances at the back door tells you that she’s not too attached to the task.

“of course,” you reassure. “you’ve got the baby at home, go,” you encourage her and she’s basically running out the back door.

“they’re just in cold storage,” she reminds you quickly as the door shuts behind her and you chuckle with a gentle shake of your head in amusement.

the task is easy enough, grabbing a small empty cardboard box from the deserted kitchen as you make your way to the walk-in refrigerator, noticing that the kitchen staff all appear to have left for the night and thanking whatever higher power was watching over you for not making you the last person in the restaurant with wooyoung.

it’s been a while since you’d actually been inside cold storage, your job description not calling for it unless you were being an extra hand for bartending, although that was something that most of your staff asked the waiters for. this mostly meant that you couldn’t remember if it was normal for the door to click like that when it closed behind you. obviously that didn’t matter much anyway and so you just continue with the task at hand, searching for wherever kitchen staff had put citruses when they were rearranging.

as you’re reaching above your head to grab a handful of lemons to place in your trusty cardboard box the door to cold storage is suddenly cracking open, nearly causing you to have a heart attack as you’d believed you were the last person in the building. to your dismay, in walks the last person you’d probably ever want to see, possibly even over some robber interested in making off with your cold stock, wooyoung. he takes a moment before he registers that it’s you and the familiar scowl takes over his features, adjusting the large box in his arms.

you try to appear unaffected by his presence, taking a breath to calm your racing heart at the shock from a moment ago and turning back to counting your lemons. you sigh as you realize he must have been in dry storage when you passed through the kitchen and curse yourself for getting your hopes up about this task being easy.

the door makes that same click as it closes behind him but you don’t hear wooyoung react, moving to the shelf right behind you and standing with his back only inches from your own. the box he’s holding makes a soft thump as it hits the ground and you clearly hear the tape ripping off the top. from what you can tell he seems to be placing whatever was in the box into the crate on the shelf behind you and you’re trying so hard not to pay attention to him as you continue your own job.

soon enough your little box is filled with the correct number of fruits, you even double checked your counting, and you turn to leave the fridge as wooyoung starts to breakdown his now empty box. however, you don’t get very far, the door not budging when you place pressure against the handle.

you let out a huff as you place your box down and grab the handle with both hands. when the door still doesn’t move you lean your shoulder against it, trying to use your body weight to leverage the thing open.

“what are you doing?”

you feel your skin prickle at his voice, obviously annoyed with whatever antics he thinks you’re up to now, and you turn around as slowly as you can manage, face blank.

“the door is stuck,” you explain and wooyoung’s face scrunches up in response before he’s moving toward you.

“move,” he demands and you slide off to the side before he can place his hand on your shoulder to move you himself.

of course he’d taken off his chef coat, leaving him in just his white undershirt and black slacks, and you resist the urge to watch his arms as he gives a harsh push to the door. unfortunately for the both of you, his shoving is just as successful as yours was and you roll your eyes at him.

“what the fuck did you do?” he says, turning to you with anger painting his features.

if you didn’t hate him you might have found him slightly attractive now, gaze dark and sharp as he looked right through you, but he had some vendetta against you and therefore you had one against him.

“me?” you say in disbelief. “why do you think i had something to do with this?”

he scoffs and it’s probably a sound you would be able to identify in your sleep at this point, having heard it so often.

“you always do,” he mutters and you don’t know what to say in response, opting instead to just roll your eyes once more and chalking it up to whatever mystery grudge he’s holding against you.

“whatever, i’ll just call-“ you cut yourself off as you dig your hands into your jacket pockets and realize that your phone is still sat inside of your open locker in the break room. “never mind,” you mumble as you pull your hands from your pockets and decide to just take a seat on the chilly floor.

“right,” wooyoung says looking down at you with one eyebrow raised before he’s pulling his own phone from his pocket.

you’re barely listening as he speaks with whoever he calls, only picking out a few words here and there as you start to realize the predicament you’re in. of all the people to be trapped with.

“mingyu should be here in half an hour or so,” wooyoung tells you before he joins you on the floor, sitting across from you. “he told us not to kill each other in the meantime.”

you just flick your eyes up to him, your expression passive, before you go back to counting the floor tiles.

you’re not sure you’ll survive until help arrives, the first minute going by in a silence that feels like it’s crawling along your skin, threatening to eat you whole. by the second minute you’ve counted all the tiles on the floor that you can see five times and have moved onto counting the crates behind wooyoung. maybe you can go through and count the things in the crates next.

“what are you doing?”

you’re tempted not to answer him but you have a feeling he’ll ask again and the only thing worse than loosing count once is loosing count twice.

“counting,” you say plainly, starting with the crates again, however, you don’t even get close to where you’d left off last time when he speaks again.

“well, stop,” he says and you make sure he sees your look of confusion and annoyance. “you’re making me paranoid,” he elaborates and you just huff, turning you head so that he’s no longer in your line of sight.

“why do you hate me?”

you immediately don’t want to hear the answer and you whip your head back to him, worry on your features as you prepare to take it back.

except you don’t take it back, his face painted with bewilderment causing you to pause. he looks as though he can’t understand why you would ask, as though the answer was written on his forehead and you should simply be able to read it.

“are you trying to tell me you don’t remember?” he asks, and it’s the first time you can recall him being genuine with you.

you shake your head with a similar look of confusion.

“high school,” he supplies as though it will jog your memory.

the only problem is that it doesn’t, you didn’t go to high school with wooyoung, in fact you didn’t go to high school with anyone you work with, because you only moved to the area after graduating.

“wooyoung,” you start as you watch his features begin to soften, “the first time i met you was here, on my first day.”

he shakes his head with force, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“you were in that group, with miri, that always laughed at me,” he continues in disbelief, continuing to ramble about this group of bullies, and you feel your heart sink.

“wooyoung,” you repeat to catch his attention and he silenced himself. “i didn’t go to high school with you.”

you watch as his shoulders, which had lifted with every word that had come out of his mouth only moments ago, drop back down and he pales, eyes wide as he really sees you for the first time.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his eyes filled with regret as he remembers every little thing he’s done to make your life at work a living hell for as long as you’ve worked here. “i’m so, so sorry.”

“honestly,” you begin, processing everything that’s happened within the last few minutes, “if i thought someone i worked with was my high school bully, i would probably do the same things you did,” you say with a chuckle and you can see a blush start to tint wooyoung’s cheeks.

there’s a moment of quiet, one that feels like the polar opposite of the silence you sat in before, and you feel like you can clearly see the gears turning inside of wooyoung’s mind.

“did you eat dinner?” he asks finally, looking at you expectantly.

you just shake your head and watch as a bashful grin makes its way onto his face.

“can we start over?” he suggests. “i can make us something,” he adds, not oblivious to the way the other chefs had bribed you with food in the past. “after mingyu saves us, of course.”

right on cue you can hear someone puttering around in the kitchen, heading your way.

“sure,” you nod gently, a soft grin on your face, as wooyoung stands, offering his hand to you.

brother’s best friend

⇀ paring soccer player!jongho x sports photographer!reader

⇀ wc 1.8k

⇀ warnings cat-calling, jongho punches somebody, cursing, implications of harassment

you’d had a crush on your older brother’s best friend, jongho, for as long as you could remember, a secret that you’d kept to yourself just as long. unfortunately, within the last few years it had gotten much more difficult to hide this little fact, partly due to the fact that you’d managed to become best friends with probably the worst secret keeper on your college campus but, mostly because you were forced by your job to interact with him more than ever.

you were one of the student sports photographers on campus, assigned to photograph the men’s soccer team in the fall, a team which jongho and your brother were apart of. that was how they met in middle school, your brother the school’s goalie while jongho played midfield, and you hadn’t known peace since. of course you loved being able to pursue your passion and get paid for it, but with each game that you had to attend it was becoming more and more difficult to focus on your job.

jongho had grown a lot during the summer before his freshman year, the training for the team intense but rewarding, and suddenly you weren’t the only one with a more than platonic interest in the boy. by sophomore year, he was a star player, attracting the attention of those who weren’t even interested in soccer, or any sport for that matter. people would start to come to games just to see jongho sweaty and focused. now, as you and jongho began your junior years, your brother a senior, your jealousy was starting to peak.

“don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if it wasn’t your job,” billie, your best friend and roommate, said as you threw another dirty look to the group of girls that had been shouting jongho’s name every five seconds.

you’d been complaining to her about all the attention on jongho, openly admitting your jealousy as she’d managed to pry the information of your crush out of you last year.

“i wouldn’t scream his name and distract him from his game,” you bite, bringing the viewfinder back up to your eye and following the ball as someone on the opposing team threw it back into play.

your job required you to attend every soccer game, and the occasional practice, to get shots for the campus newspaper and website. billie had started to tag along as your assistant at the beginning of this semester, claiming to just be happy to hang out with you even if she wasn’t getting paid, totally not because she had a crush on your brother or anything.

“right,” billie says with a nod, adjusting the strap of your camera bag on her shoulder, “because you can get his attention without all the drama.”

your best friend had gotten some weird idea in her head that jongho was secretly in love with you, an idea that had prompted her to dig into your feelings for jongho in the first place. you tried not to listen, not wanting to let her feed any sort of delusion that you and jongho were somehow possible.

“you know, when you said you would be my assistant, i thought you meant like helping me, not being annoying,” you say sarcastically, snapping a few pictures as your attacking midfielder managed to get control of the ball.

“maybe you’re being annoying,” billie pouts in response. “i’m just saying what i see.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes, trying to focus on who has the ball and what moments to capture.

“am i not an objective party?” she asks and you have no idea where she’s heading with this argument. “you’ve known him for years and so you’re set that he doesn’t see you that way. i’m a fresh set of eyes to tell you the truth!”

you scoff at her. “you said yourself i’ve known him for years, wouldn’t that mean i know him better? so i know that he’s not interested?” you argue, players surrounding the ball and crowding your lens.

“you’re biased,” she says with a sense of finality and you pull your camera away from your face, deciding to glance through some of the pictures you’d just taken to see if you needed to adjust any of your settings. the lighting had changed a bit since the beginning of the game.

“yeah,” you agree after a moment, “and you’re a hopeless romantic.”

you turn and trek around down the field, looking for a new angle. you hear billie running after you, your camera bag bouncing against her hip gently and you remind yourself to at least buy her dinner after this as thanks for following you around for 90 minutes.

just as you both reach the other side of the field, the referee is blowing a whistle to signal the start of halftime and you sigh, glad to already be on the side of the field where the players benches are. you weren’t required to get pictures of players on the bench or any of the team huddled, but you liked to. they made good shots to advertise the team pride and allowed everyone to have professional pictures, even if they didn’t play in that game.

“hey y/n, hey billie,” you brother says as he passes you both, jogging toward the bench to grab his water and take a rest.

billie lights up and waves as he passes, you only roll your eyes, following after your brother to get closer to the bench.

“make sure you get my left, it’s my best side,” one of the players, hojin, says jokingly as you snap a wide shot of all the players sat on the bench.

you chuckle lightly, enjoying your banter with the players, as you continue to get a few more wide angles.

“what’s your name sexy?” you hear someone call behind you and turn to see one of the players of the opposing team looking right at you.

you don’t say anything for a moment, kind of shocked that anyone on the opposing team was talking to you as that had never happened before. you recognized him as their center midfielder, opposite jongho for a majority of the game.

“none of you business!” billie calls back for you, linking her arm with your own and pulling you closer to your team.

the guy doesn’t seem all that discouraged at first, sending you a wink before his eyes flick to something, or someone, behind you and his face drops.

you turn around just in time to see your brother sitting back on the bench, features sharp, and jongho turning to look at their coach, anger clear on his face.

you try not to think anything of it, knowing that your brother and jongho were naturally very protective, as billie tugs on your arm that’s still linked with hers.

“c’mon,” she says, “don’t forget to get your huddle shot.”

you try to return to business as normal once the game resumes, making sure to get a few key pictures that are always a hit for article features, but you’ve started to let your camera drift centerfield, toward jongho. except unlike other times this has happened it’s not simply because you’re being distracted by how handsome he looks. he’s started getting a bit aggressive with the player opposite him, the one that had called to you during halftime, and you watch through your lens as the player says something to jongho. whatever he said must have really upset jongho because just as you’re pulling away from the viewfinder he reels back and sends his fist right into the other guy’s face.

you feel your blood run cold as you watch the whole interaction unfold, a ref blowing the whistle sharply as he runs to centerfield. your brother, who had been on the bench, bolts for jongho, other players from both teams moving in to break up whatever is happening. somehow the other player manages to remain standing after the hit, stumbling back a bit, and jongho takes a few steps forward with a raised fist before your brother gets to him and pulls him back.

“what the actual fuck is wrong with you?” you hear your brother saying as he drags jongho toward the bench.

you hand billie your camera, telling her you’ve got enough for today and that she can just mess around with it before you stomp toward the bench yourself. your best friend sends you a slightly concerned, if not sympathetic, look as you leave but does as you say.

“are you crazy?” you say once you get to where jongho is sat, your brother popping a disposable ice pack and placing it onto his hand.

“if you’re here to lecture me i don’t need it,” jongho grunts. “i already know it was a bad idea.”

you scoff in disbelief as your eyebrows shoot up. “a bad idea? it was unbelievably stupid! what in the world would posses you to do something like that?”

jongho looks up at you for a moment, eyes blank, before looking at your brother who’s stood next to you, looking at his best friend expectantly.

“well?” you brother says, crossing his arms.

“some people should just keep their mouth shut,” jongho says looking down at his hand that’s covered by the ice pack and you scoff again, crossing your own arms.

“jongho,” you say sternly and he looks up at you again, eyes almost pleading for you not to press further. “i know you. this is not you.”

he shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, before saying, “maybe it is.”

you sigh, sitting down next to jongho and placing a hand gently on top of his forearm.

“no it’s not,” you insist, much softer as you rub your thumb along his arm soothingly.

your own palm tingles at the sensation of his skin against yours but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

jongho looks at your hand on him for a moment before glancing up at your face. after a moment he turns to where your brother is still standing and ticks his head in some sort of signal that has your brother patting jongho’s shoulder once before leaving you both.

“you asked if i was crazy,” jongho starts, turning to meet your slightly confused gaze. “i am crazy,” he says with a humorless laugh, “crazy for you.”

your thumb stops it’s movements as you freeze, wondering if you’re hearing him right.

“i couldn’t let him get away with what he was saying about you,” jongho explains. “i just snapped.”

you close your eyes, shaking your head like you’re trying to get rid of the thoughts clouding your judgement, before you ask, “can we go back to the part where you’re crazy?”

he chuckles again and you open your eyes to see a soft smile on his face.

“i’ve had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on you for years y/n,” he says, a blush dusting his cheeks.

your own lips curl into a smile as you reply, “that’s impossible because i’ve had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on you for years jongho.”

↼ ateez masterlist

note hope you enjoyed and these couples may be making a reappearance at some point in the future (also if you genuinely want to know the hangul just translates to “hey, where are you from”)

feedback always appreciated

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demilypyro · 1 year

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I think Dark Souls 3 is the most “self-aware” Fromsoft game, only possibly topped by Elden Ring. With Demon’s Souls, Dark Souls and Dark Souls 2 they’re still figuring stuff out, and Bloodborne was very experimental, but Dark Souls 3 says “alright you know what this is” and just lays it on really thick.

Some have called Dark Souls 3 uninspired, and to a point it’s true that it reuses a lot of stuff, while Dark Souls 2 made more of an effort to invent new things, but I think the game is making a point. More than any other game in the series, DS3 is playing the hits. It languishes in the tropes the series itself established, plays around with them and creates variations on them, but retains their core. It’s almost joking about how repetitive it all is.

You know the drill, says Dark Souls 3. Here’s your hub area, here’s your firekeeper, here’s your standard covenants, here’s Patches, here’s the Onion Knight, here’s all the weapons you know and love, here’s a mimic in the very first level, here’s a stormruler fight, here’s a boss that evokes Big Hat Logan, and here’s a boss that strongly evokes fan-favorite boss Artorias. One of the major bosses is literally wearing the skin of one of the bosses from Dark Souls 1. It’s all a rehash, but it works, because it knows it’s doing it. It’s the point, it’s central to the plot: the world has repeated and repeated itself to perpetuity and it’s breaking down and it can’t go on, so it’s time for it all to come to an end.

Dark Souls 3 is a statement on franchises, how they repeat themselves and stagnate, and it indulges in its own legacy to an almost comical amount, but it also says “this has to end somewhere”, and that’s the note it leaves things on. The final boss is an embodiment of the franchise itself, an amalgamation of people who have perpetuated the cycle, symbolizing every single person who’s contributed to the franchise’s continuation, and by defeating it, you lay the series to rest. The fire can’t be linked any further. The cycle breaks.

Finally, in the DLC, the idea is taken further, leaving the game on a statement of hope. One day, a new world will be created, it says. A little game called Elden Ring will sift the ashes, taking a lot of the tropes and running with them, and leaving some to rest where they were. Using the blood of the Dark Soul to paint a renewed experience.

#i just think it's all really neat #dark souls 3

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pmdthehumanconnection · 2 months

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Time for me to answer some questions, and gosh there were a lot! There were a ton I wanted to answer, so I'll pick a few to answer here. I may end up doing this for other characters in a future QnA, but right now there were just some questions I didn't want to leave unanswered despite only dedicating one page to this.

Author: Do you have voice casts for any of the characters? Answer: Fullmetal Alchemist was one of my big influences for this, so I imagine much of the English VA when thinking of the characters in this comic. Travis Willingham for Gallade, Gwendolyn Lau for Ribombee, Trina Nishimura for Dewott, and Brittney Karbowski for Lumen, for instance. It's not solely the FMA dub cast I think of, but it is the majority. Author: What do you use to draw all your amazing drawings? Answer: Thanks for the compliment!! I currently use a Huion Kamvas Pro 12, an older tablet model that I picked up at a bargain, and Clip Studio (I know both companies behind those products have gotten caught with image transformer AI which is disappointing; I was using these before all that). I also like to do traditional sketching and then scan those to use a basis for drawings. Sometimes its just easier to do it the latter way for me. Author: I love the unconventional choice of Tepig as the main protagonist, and of course the way you draw them. How come you chose Tepig over every other PMD starter? Answer: Ahhh again thank you for the compliments! Well, originally this comic started as an ask blog with a questionnaire to determine the protagonist and the partner, with Tepig and Riolu winning out (it was a barely known blog and the art was bad). When I decided to redo the story, I realized how much I liked the pairing; Riolu is a popular choice and could represent the expectations of a PMD story, while the less popular Tepig would be a great shakeup and point of difference. Plus, Tepig can be a very cute pokemon!

Author: This may sound like a strange question, but would you consider this work to be more of a love letter to pmd, a criticism, or both? I can see you’re playing around with some of the established tropes of the series and shaking it up a little, so I wonder what the motivation for that is! Answer: This is definitely a work of adoration for the Pokemon Mystery Dungeon games. Really, this is just the kind of story I want to see in the games one day (provided we actually get a new one...) because I honestly think there's a lot of twists, variations, and explorations that could be done with the story formula Spike Chunsoft has established with this spinoff franchise. You won't see this sort of story beat in this comic, but as an example, what if we had a game where it was revealed the pokemon you play as was always a pokemon, and they thought they were human because they had memories of one: their trainer, who instead either became their partner or the main antagonist? There's actually a lot you could do with the formula they established!

#pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #the human connection #pmd #fancomic #questions and answers #modluxray answers #shinx #luxio #luxray #longpost #energyluxray

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novlr · 3 months

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How do you best depict a language barrier? I have a character who doesn't understand much English and speaks even less, but most of the others don't understand a word of Japanese, which is what she speaks.

Communication is a cornerstone of any good characterisation. But for some characters there may be elements that block traditionally clear communication, and language barriers are just one example of that. Every interaction is filled with potential misunderstandings or revelations of clarity. Let’s explore how to bring language barriers to life in your writing, showing the struggles and triumphs that come with characters trying to connect across language and culture.

Understand the role of language in your story

Consider the cultural and geographical context of your characters.

Explore the historical ties or conflicts that might have led to the language differences.

Determine the significance of the language barrier to the plot—is it an obstacle, a source of conflict, or a way to deepen character relationships?

How can you use language to illustrate the power dynamics between characters?

What is the emotional impact of miscommunication on all your characters?

Why do you want to write about language barriers? If it’s just for the sake of a miscommunication trope, consider if there’s perhaps a better way for you to achieve the same aim.

Have you taken the time to understand the culture whose language you are trying to represent?

Characterisation through language

Incorporate a mix of languages or dialects to enrich the authenticity of the setting and the characters’ experiences.

Pay attention to the non-verbal communication cues that can transcend language barriers, such as body language and facial expressions.

Respectfully create characters with varying degrees of proficiency in the language they’re learning or interacting with.

Use language as a way to show a character’s adaptability, intelligence, or stubbornness.

Let characters’ reactions to the language barrier drive their development throughout the story.

Consider how language barriers may influence a character’s inner thoughts and how they perceive the world around them.

The mechanics of writing dialogue

Don’t overuse accents or continually spell them out. Use description to signal a character’s struggle instead of phonetically writing it.

Suggest broken language skills by using simple words, or incorrect grammar, but don’t resort to stereotypes.

If you choose to write an accent phonetically, don’t repeat this for every line of dialogue. Use it once as an example, and then use description to give the sense of it moving forward.

Balance readability with authenticity—make sure the dialogue is understandable to your audience in a way that is still respectful to your character.

Foster immersion through context rather than a direct translation of foreign words which often don’t hold the same meaning. Using vocabulary that characters and readers can deduce from context strengthens the narrative and characterisation.

Present the characters’ linguistic progression realistically, showing their learning curve and how it affects their interactions.

Non-verbal communication

Emphasise body language, facial expressions, and gestures to show communication without spoken language.

Use context clues and the characters’ surroundings to help convey meaning.

Explore how misunderstandings can arise from non-verbal miscommunications, but also show when non-verbal communication helps clarify things that can’t be conveyed verbally.

Consider the situational context that might enhance or impede non-verbal understanding among characters. For example, in high-tension scenes, even subtle gestures can carry heavy meaning.

Acknowledge cultural variations in body language and educate readers subtly through the narrative.

Describe the physical environment as it can also influence the way characters use non-verbal communication—proximity, personal space, and even the weather can all play roles.

The emotional impact of language barriers

Show how characters find innovative ways to express themselves and connect with others.

Describe the frustration, isolation, or desperation that characters may feel when they can’t communicate.

Use the language barrier to create poignant moments of miscommunication and resolution.

Show how shared experiences can forge bonds that transcend words and even serve as a foundation for trust.

Explore the characters’ emotional journeys as they navigate through their inability to communicate. This can lead to a deeper understanding of each other over time, despite the initial hurdles.

Consider the long-term effects of language barriers on relationships and character psyche, both positive and negative.

Research and authenticity

Study the languages you are writing about, including their structure and common phrases. If you’re writing a fantasy language, then research common language structures on which to base your characters’ experiences.

Understand the culture tied to the language to avoid stereotyping and to provide richer detail. For real languages, do research, for fictional languages, work on some deep worldbuilding for authenticity.

If possible, talk to speakers of the language you’re writing about, or speak to folks who have experienced a similar language barrier more generally.

Seek feedback from native speakers or cultural experts to ensure accurate representation and to honour the community’s linguistic nuances.

Be mindful of the socio-political influences on language and communication, presenting these complexities through your characters’ interactions either through worldbuilding, or researching real-world etymology.

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greatcheshire · 11 months

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It’s really annoying seeing how aggressively anti-D&D people always try to frame any enjoyment of D&D as people either being too dumb to know about other systems or playing D&D wrong by having fun with it. And it’s even more annoying when their reasons why D&D are bad is based on the idea that any sense of creativity brought to D&D is against the system when it either is part of the system or something that doesn’t need mechanics attached to it.

Like a consistent problem I see with indie TTRPG games, especially ones tied to aggressively anti D&D discourse, is the need to create hard rules for any sort of thing that could come up in game, be it roleplay or combat encounters or whatever, which leads to a fair bit of amateur TTRPGs creating a system that allows for less variation because you’re so clearly tied to whatever the creator imagined could be done and the character archetypes and storytelling tropes they’re setting up.

I just don’t get why people think that because you find ways to have good roleplaying moments in D&D or because they create interesting combat encounters they’re not playing D&D right because it clearly doesn’t have mechanics that support that and instead you should be playing Ghiblidagger, a game where you play as a Studio Ghibli character who stabs people with dagger and you roll a d12 to determine what Ghibli movie you’re from, what your slice of life job is, what you say to your other party members, and how you fight people with your dagger

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negrowhat · 5 months

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The Thumb Kiss Trope

Recently (like yesterday) I rewatched Wedding Plan and in ep 3 a thumb kiss was featured that was kind of glossed over by us all. Ever since then (like the past 12 hrs) I've been thinking about how I need more of this trope in my life. It's such a good trope and so under-used.

Sure we have different variations of a barrier kiss; My School President used that trope as a running gag up until the last ep. And we see people place their full hands between their lips. TinCan had a really cute kind of transfer kiss featuring Can's hand in Love By Chance, but nothing hits like the Thumb Kiss trope for me.

So why is the Thumb kiss such a vibe for me? Because it's the flimsiest of barriers to prevent a real kiss. It highlights the tension between the two characters, they both seem to be very interested, but it just isn't the right time for a real kiss yet. In my mind that thumb is a bookmark for the real kiss that is coming soon.

DON'T WORRY I HAVE EXAMPLES!

SoloGui from Oxygen the Series. We get their thumb kiss in ep 4. There are a couple reasons Solo does not kiss Gui in that moment; he didn't have permission, he didn't want to push Gui too much, and mainly because he was under the weather. But he couldn't just let the moment pass without a brief romantic interaction. At this point in the series, Solo is really just trying to gauge Gui's interest in him so he can figure out how to proceed.

Of course Gui responds like it's a real kiss, he kisses Solo's thumb too and then they both pull away. In the novel version, Gui is actually disappointed about Solo's thumb being there because he wanted it to be a real kiss (he's never kissed anyone before despite being a popular campus moon). BY THE WAY Nut Supanut from Pit Babe stars in Oxygen and it's a really cute, lowkey series with good communication. I highly recommend it, ALSO THE SIDE COUPLE IN THAT SERIES IS TOP TIER!

NueaToh from Secret Crush on You. Their thumb kiss happens in ep 2. It's not so secret that Toh is in love with P'Nuea, but we soon discover that Nuea is also kind of enamored with Toh. He goes out of his way to hire Toh as a photographer for his sister's birthday party (btw she's a fan of Toh's photography) and anyways, Toh and his bestie Jao are hanging out with Nuea and his friends and they play that good ole King's card game (you know the one! It's the only time we see cards in these series) and Nuea and Toh are dared to kiss.

We know Toh wants to and so does Nuea but Nuea doesn't want to turn his first kiss with his crush into a party game so he literally smirks at Toh and pushes his thumb between their lips. Nuea knows Toh likes him and he's sure Toh would be fine with their first kiss happening any kind of way, but Nuea wants to make sure Toh knows he's kissing him on purpose so he's going to wait.

ALSO half the cast of the Sign are in SCOY and I HIGHLY recommend the series to anyone who hasn't watched it, Billy is PHENOMENAL as Nuea. Saint produced SCOY as well and it's a good mix of cringe, spice, and pretty much all the characters are queer. I just hope you don't mind stalking as part of the plot (I can explain more if you're interested! I promise it's not that bad)

LomNuea from Wedding Plan. Sailom and Namnuea are vibing from Day 1 but Sailom and his fiancée Yiwa have contracted Nuea to plan their upcoming wedding. To Nuea, Sailom is going behind Yiwa's back to pursue him and he's having mixed feelings about that. Sailom is actually just a man in love with his wedding planner and trying to find the best way to explain a delicate situation without sounding selfish or manipulative.

Their thumb kiss happens in ep 3 and at this point Lom is trying his hardest to keep his intense feelings in check. He's parked outside of Nuea's apartment preparing to drop him off and he thinks Nuea is sleeping. He apologizes and places his thumb on Nuea's lips and kisses his thumb. When he pulls back Nuea is wide awake and Sailom declares that he's going to kiss him and they do kiss. Namnuea kisses him back.

Their situation is a little different because they have kissed already but it was a quick and playful kiss and Lom kissed him because he was trying to calm Nuea down (I can't explain it but it does work) and by ep 3 they are both very aware of the other's feelings. This is one of the moments where Namnuea gives in to his feelings for Sailom, which he immediately regrets.

One could argue that's what this particular scene visually represents. Sailom has a clear understanding of how he feels about Namnuea, which is why we can see him so clearly. Meanwhile Nuea is shrouded in darkness, he still needs some clarity.

I tried to go down my list of watched BLs to figure out if any other ones featured The Thumb Kiss and I couldn't find anymore which is TRAGIC. It's such a fun trope. I scream every time I see it and I wish it was featured more. I need more of this specific trope.

#anyways #this is my first list post for 2024 #and I'm excited about it #bl tropes #oxygen #oxygen the series #sologui #secret crush on you #scoy #secret crush on you the series #nueatoh #wedding plan #wedding plan the series #lomnuea #pit babe the series #the sign the series #pit babe #the sign

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gummybearzgocrazyagain · 7 months

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kinn/porsche fic rec vol. 2

Futuristic/Space AU

All That Just For a License? by @nuwildcat [daaaaaaaaamn son the squeals of utter delight i have produced while reading this...????? numerous. porsche and chay are bounty hunters, picking off criminals and delivering them to the waiting, and most importantly, well-paying hands. this next job must be nothing out of ordinary, the guy looks dirty and worn-out, and porsche knows this next part by heart... or is he. if i told you it was extremely delicious and entertaining read, it would still be an understatement. so so so so so many compliments and kudos]

Clandestine by @aheartfeltlie [in somewhat cyber-punk-ish future, that includes flying cars and chip-implanted eyes, porsche is equally “eat the rich, and not a good kind, especially if it is kinn fucking theerapanyakul” in real life, and “eat the rich, definitely a good kind” in the all-immersive world of Clandestine, game to rival all others. awesome variation on enemies-to-lovers, tis a rec]

a/b/o + college

And They Were Roommates by @tessalane [aaaaaaaa, obsessed with this one, the absolute perfect mix of softness and horniness of enemies-to-lovers a/b/o college roommates AU, tropes that has been used to death, and yet somehow never get old in the right hands, and does this author have the rightest hands for it, bless up. can’t rec this enough]

Alpha’s bid by @paulalestat-blog [fresh premise of the futuristic set-up: with time due to the virus, omega population withered to near extinction, and each omega is valued and sought after. an agency kinn goes to provides match-making services, where omegas are shown alpha’s profiles, and then are free to choose any alpha they deem pleasing or fit, and alpha can not back out. you know what happens next. and yes, kinn is a uni teacher in this one...? go figure. still a wip, and a very good one at that]

Vamp AU

Smoke and Raindrops by @nuwildcat [*fanning herself* thank you, dear author, it was delicious. it is beyond me why vampire!kinn is not a huge deal in this fandom, all the signs are right there - paleness, piercing gaze, power, audacity, stature, daddy issues, etc etc, one would expect the tag to be flooded and yet, good vamp!kp fic is scarce, which makes this even more precious: traditional back alley meeting, werewolf!porsche, canon levels of horniness, delightfully wrapped in author’s eloquent style. so many kudosssssssssssss]

after dark by @foreigncars [i...am not exactly sure what i think of this one yet, some of the plot points seemed... tad abrupt, but hey, it’s a vamp!kinn, can’t be too choosy when it comes to the vamp trope, in this house we appreciate them all]

Spy/Assassin AU

Worthy of Love and Loyalty by @rebellconquerer [what.what.what.what the FCUK was that i am wheezing, the fuckkkkkk dear author, how DARE YOU, the audacity....??? i mean, are there even words//// i am so in luv with this thang, it’s not even funny, my long-running partiality towards this trope is back with the vengeance it seems. theerapanyakuls have an intelligence agency, porsche is taken in by force and made to train, yada-yada, if you have not read this yet, i am so fucking envious you have no idea. this fucking fic <3]

two shots by @martynaxao3 [yassssss slay assassin!porsche, who could resist such temptation. this thing has it all, plot, twists, lust, great pacing, excellent style, huge rec, no notes]

Historic/fantasy AU

putting a harried love letter into a red mailbox by @captainkit [like this author and their unhurried, sensual style. in this au, porsche is a temple khon dancer in a capital that kinn is currently laying a siege to. not a MS crossover though, still a kp historic au. although the story is centred around kp, vp and kimchay have their own prominent parts, and there is plot, for real. wip, but enough has been written by now]

what a tangled web we weave by @fairhairedkings [has this author ever disappointed, duhhhhh, ain’t never a miss with them: scheherazade au i am sure everyone follows already, so this rec is more of an homage to the beloved author. i for once, can never have enough of “forced marriage resulting in smitten kinn” trope, can anyone, especially so well written one. all the possible kudos, as usual]

with the subcategory of warprize!porsche

How I Know You by @nuwildcat and A thousand jasmine blossoms bloom by @iffervescent [another trope kp dynamic seems especially suited for, imho, executed soooooooo beautifully by this fandom. hands down both are such amazing works, no notes, all the possible kudos and eternal gratitude to the authors, i was saaaaaaat 🙌]

Hybrid AU

Feline Purrsuasion by @wiccawrites [based on this idea, the piece is highly entertaining and very-well executed. porsche is a brat even in feline form, and kinn is struggling to retain his sanity. the fact that the idea was born before woody on stage, is... inchresting. bravo author, big time rec]

Magic AU

Like water by @deliciousblizzardshark [ouccccccchhhhh, that capital H hurted. brilliant, brilliant writing, how have i missed this gem from the author of one of my fav pieces. in a world where you can tattoo magic symbols on one’s skin, obedience is one of the most logical ones to tattoo on your new bodyguard, isn’t it though... it is for kp to find out. damnnnnnnnnnnnnn it was painfully beautiful and so absolutely worth a read. thank you dearest author, what a fucking masterpiece <3]

The Empty Crown by @rainbowcolored7 [such a great world-building, and the lore is superb: kittisawasds are from the fire clan that can command phoenixes, and theerapanyakuls are the water clan that are connected to dragons. when their clan’s capital is destroyed, lil porsche and chay are forced to run and hide, and spend their lives in fear of their true lineage being discovered. they are minding they own business leading ordinary folk lives, all until an idiot falls down a hill and hurts himself right in front of unsuspecting porsche, who was just trying to fish in peace. suuuuuuch a lovely read, so pleasantly paced, it keeps you fully immersed and invested, not to mention, the chemistry between the poor conflicted porsche and the injured idiot is 👌👌👌]

sex on fire by @cherry_apples22 [it’s pretty much like if My Type by Saweetie was a fic, i dunno what else to add: since he found out he was a phoenix, porsche is unable to get laid, cause his flames would hurt any other living creature. well, almost any other, there are dragons, for instance... who do not get affected by phoenix fire, right... his own lil bro is even dating one... how hard can it be to meet one for himself? p.s. and if there are but hints of monsterfucking? don’t mind if i do 🙆‍♀️]

green isle in the sea, love (a fountain and a shrine) by @anakinn [i am quite frankly speechless sitting here with my eyes like 👀 didn’t know this was a thing...? until it absolutely became a thing....? in a nutshell, porsche spills some oils in some random shrine they’ve stumbled upon while on a recon mission, some deity felt slighted, and now there are two kinns...? i ain’t gonna say no’ mo’, you ought to read this for yourselves bruv]

Alternative meeting

stripper for one night by @martynaxao3 [yasssss, thank you, tay for the win againnnnn, it’s kinn’s bday, and they are celebrating at some hole in the wall place they just chose at random, and the bartender working there keeps being rude to the birthday boi, or is he.... super fun and super hot, author deserves all the praise, as always, much luv]

Tiger bite by @Verbana [after the death of their father and husband, namphueng, little porsche and babie chay are brought to stay at the theerapanyakul household, to be brought up along with their cousins kim, khun, and anakinn. understandably, the angst ensues. if i knew any words prior to reading this, they’re all gone by now. immaculate, immaculate vibe. adore this type of stories to death, the longing, helplessness, the despair of it all.. omg.]

Fake dating

Situationship by @vcrses [no, you don’t get it, when i say i am in luv with this fic <33333333 the author is so effortlessly funny, made me cackle multiple times, such a light and enjoyable read <33333 it is some sort of AU within an AU, as the characters we know have different backgrounds/circumstances, for instance, tankhun is not agoraphobic in this, and even some places named differently, but it doesn’t take away from the experience at all, quite the opposite, comes off as refreshing; the story overall is a perfect perfect embodiment of the trope, these versions of kp are so loveable, i am smooching this author’s face with abandon]

Accidental babie acquisition

Dropping a baby off at a mafia compound is a good idea, right? by @lalala53 [it is actually exactly what the title says, short and sweet read, couldn’t pass over the opportunity to rec, luv the trope]

Various in-universe AUs // Canon divergence

Burn Your Name Into My Skin by @everyforkedroad [omg omg omg unexpected but damn pleasant surprise of sub!kinn wrapped into minor fam!bodyguard porsche and general star crossed lovers trope. it was such an entertaining and captivating read: they meet at a sex club, porsche is on a mission for vegas, his boss (i know, just typing this out is something else), and kinn is unsurprisingly hooked. huge rec, thank you author]

take this life and hold it by the hand by @p1n3appl3p3n [if i tell you i was vibrating out of my fucking skin reading this. shaking crying throwing up with giddiness and squealing like a new-born piglet. have seen this rec so many times in people’s bookmarks, and that single goddamn “mpreg” word has deterred me every time. how could have i been so foolish. one of the best fucking things i’ve read lately was hiding in plain sight this whole time. yes, mpreg, but who gives a fuck, if in return you get this..? reconciliation trope of your dreams. i am on my knees for this fic. p.s. i conveniently have an existing h/c for the twins, which despite the fact that canon pair is a boi/gurl set, is still my ironclad image for them, cause have one look at them and tell me these don’t look like porsche’s children]

[N] Let the fire breathe me back to life by @Zeronay [beautiful mess of two besotted idiots going on a mission underprepared and taking a bullet each. short and lovely read]

Mutatis Mutandis by @zipperbiter [daaaaaamn that was <3333 during one of the quiet uneventful family breakfasts tankhun suddenly realizes that a little chaos never killed nobody, and decides to stir these calm waters up a bit by posing quite an interesting question. the bouts of... scientific experimentation... that ensue in order to conclude the experiment, are both extremely skilfully written, and entertaining to boot. very much a rec]

Wicked Game by @Acearcy01 [set in canon and divergent after ep4, someone keeps making attempts on kinn’s life, and he suggests an agreement: porsche will stay for 60 days to try and figure out who is after kinn, in exchange for his complete freedom afterwards. porsche agrees and starts counting the days. he can’t wait to leave this hellhole behind.... right?. there is something about this story.... really liked it, give it a try, if you haven’t read it already]

Burnished night, blood-soaked stars by @The_Old_Astronomer [absolutely lovely and touching missing/alternative scene between kinn getting shot and waking up at the hospital wing, feelings realization, and a bit of a porsche/big reluctant understanding]

quis custodiet ipsos custode by @concernedlily [gosh i luv this author’s style, am sure everyone has already read this, the piece ain’t new, i just... there can never be enough kp desperate for each other’s safety, not in my world]

two hungers are in me, and they drive me forward. i was born to starve by @captainkit [porsche-centric and bitter-sweet, it is painful to get through in places, but porsche is lovely, earnest, bratty, and plenty sad in this. not to mention, hungry throughout. read when in melancholic mood p.s. ngl, the bit where kinn takes him to a cafe for his bday, and there is no cake, made me cry a lil. p.p.s also author compares kinn’s ep 3 dancing to a “drunk uncle at a wedding”, and i’ve literally never have read anything more accurately hilarious]

Outsider perspective

innocent bystanders by @BeStillMySlashyheart [super-entertaining drabble set in AU where kp not only do not hide, but rather flaunt there new relationship in the compound inhabitants’ faces, and porsche’s poor colleagues have to witness their comrade enjoying his honeymoon phase with their own boss in front of their own bleeding eyes. i cackled, tis a rec]

Horror

A Curious Cat by @The_Consulting_Werewolf [whatttttttt...? *just sits there with her jaw slack and mouth slightly open* what exactly.... has transpired here? you know what i ain’t even gonna say nuthin just go read it for yourselves]

Non-mafia AUs

Twelve, Twenty, Almost Thirty by @just2wings [ooohhh no no nooooope sir, nuh-huh, who gave you the right to hit me with all them feels on this fine tuesday evening completely unprovoked....? hell to the no, i demand reparations, wasn’t sufficiently warned about my insides turning all gooey after reading this, the longing, the looooooongiiiiiiingggggggg <333333 ahem, rant over, to the plot: non-mafia AU in which they have actually met once during the childhood, once in college, and now again as adults. and if you haven’t read it yet, you’re missing out big time. i cried]

Punch at First Sight by @Sandee Sing [yaaaaaay, what a ride, such an entertaining AU, porsche is a bar owner, and theerapanyakuls are business moguls. porsche is visiting the mansion on korn’s invitation, when kinn sees him and understandably? mistakes him for a stripper hired by tay as a gift. it spins out from there. i reeeeeeally liked it, absolute rec]

Hot wheels by @tiredfairycake [disabled!porsche in da house, very cute drabble: kinn is stopped in the middle of his early morning stroll through the park by a weirdo chilling on the bench asking to be helped home. kinn is whipped in every universe, which is no surprise to any of us, super sweet read]

Crack

five things gay by @martynaxao3 [if this is crack, then i never want to read anything that is not crack again, love the author, never a miss with them, including this gem: porsche decides to make it his mission to help his confused, lonely boss to figure out his sexuality... the boss, as the whipped idiot that he is, goes along with the plan. entertaining, funny and super hot. much kudosssssss]

#kinnporsche #kinn/porsche #kinnporsche fic rec #kinnporsche fic

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lurkingshan · 8 months

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Talk to me about noble idiocy! I know it is one of your most beloathed tropes... what makes you dislike it particularly? Are there examples or variations that you find more tolerable? Or ones that you feel are especially egregious?

Wow, what a gift. Thank you for inviting me to rant about my beloathed, noble idiocy.

So first, what is it? Noble idiocy is a very well worn drama trope that in its barest definition means that a character does something stupid for ostensibly noble reasons. In most dramas, it shows up in the form of one character destroying a relationship for the other person’s “own good.” It is usually justified under the notion that the noble idiot is trying to protect their beloved, and it most often shows up as the final act conflict in romances. As a drama viewer, I hate this trope for so many reasons.

Let me count the ways:

The trope is predicated on the notion that the noble idiot knows what is best for their partner and is entitled to act in their interest, usually without their consent or knowledge

It’s also a trope based in a failure or outright refusal to communicate, which is always a frustrating thing to watch

Committing an act of noble idiocy is a breach of trust in a relationship that is hard to believably come back from, as it requires deeply hurting the person you claim to love and feeling righteous about it to boot

It’s also just infantilizing and shows deep disrespect for one’s partner and their agency to make their own choices

Most dramas don’t actually hold the noble idiot to account, uncritically accepting the notion that they believed they had a good reason for what they did and thus should be easily forgiven

Consequently, an act of noble idiocy often destroys any faith the audience has in the relationship and the inevitably tacked on happy resolution falls flat

The trope is very often used cheaply as an easy shortcut for conflict when a drama is running out of steam or isn’t sure how to fill its runtime, and thus tends to feel false and sometimes even like a complete violation of character

So yes, noble idiocy on my screen is an automatic groan for me and usually takes a drama down in my estimation because it’s just such a lazy, overused trope. But there is a spectrum and some versions are more palatable than others. For instance, if the noble idiot has extremely well-established reasons to think they are not good for their partner, the drama has been naturally building to a break, and the partner is well aware of what is happening and why, I find that much easier to swallow.

A good example of this take on the trope is Just Between Lovers, a kdrama about healing from a traumatic incident and its aftereffects. Gang Doo, the male lead, feels he is holding his girlfriend back, and so he takes a job that will send him away for awhile to give her a chance to move on. She doesn’t want him to leave, but she is fully aware of where he is going and why. So while she’s frustrated and hurt as she watches him go, she isn’t left wondering what went wrong or thinking this is about anything but his trauma, which she already knew about. She knows it is because he loves her so much that he is leaving. As a result, their reconciliation was believable.

The next step down is the just plain stupid variation, in which the noble idiot doesn’t realize there will be fallout for their failure to communicate their intentions when they decide to abruptly leave their partner. This version showed up in Because This is My First Life, a kdrama about a contract marriage, when the heroine, upon falling in love for real with her husband, decided she didn’t want a fake marriage anymore. She decided to end the relationship and take a short time away so they could start fresh. The problem? She didn’t tell him that’s what she was doing, she just left him with no explanation. The male lead, a neurodivergent person who had struggled to open up to her in the first place, was deeply damaged by this abandonment. It’s an act a person claiming to love him would never do. Because of that, I can never love the drama wholeheartedly or trust in that relationship, which really pissed me off because until that final act of noble idiocy, it was a lovely and thoughtful romance.

By far the worst version of this trope is what I call the needlessly cruel variation, where the noble idiot outright lies to their partner about their feelings and intentions as a way to make a clean break. This usually takes the form of claiming not to love them anymore, and it is fucking infuriating. Plus and Minus is a great exemplar of this version of the trope, and it’s the reason I start hissing every time it comes up. After pursuing a relationship with his lifelong best friend, Li Kung bows to homophobic familial pressure and ends their relationship by claiming he misread his feelings and does not love Tse Shou after all, leaving Tse Shou confused and destroyed, having just lost both his lover and his best friend with no warning and in the cruelest way imaginable. It was out of character for Li Kung and absolutely untrue to their relationship dynamic. That the show then tried to tack on a fluffy happy ending after that unbelievable breach of trust just made me even more angry and I will honestly never forgive it.

There are others that fall somewhere along the spectrum—A Boss and a Babe, for instance, lives somewhere in the gray space between the second and third variation, as Cher told Gun he was leaving him because they were not compatible and told him not to look for him, and failed to communicate that his intention was to finish his degree so that they would become more compatible. It was cruel in that there was zero reason for him to not just tell Gun what he was doing, but it was based in Cher just being low (high) key stupid about other peoples’ emotional needs rather than him intentionally setting out to break Gun’s heart.

And then there’s something like We Best Love, which starts out giving the impression that we are dealing with noble idiocy before peeling back the layers to reveal that both Shi De and Shu Yi had been tricked into thinking the other abandoned him, and it was actually Shu Yi’s dad who interfered to keep them apart and confused. Shi De was definitely an idiot for never talking to Shu Yi to confirm the breakup and trying to defeat his dad on his own, but he never actually nobly dumped Shu Yi in the first place. It’s an interesting twist on the trope that starts as infuriating and becomes more sympathetic as it’s unraveled.

In conclusion: I really do despise noble idiocy narratives on the whole. But that doesn’t mean it’s a completely useless trope, and there are dramas I love that have deployed milder versions of it. It can and has been used effectively in a way that supports character and leads to relationship development. It’s just so rarely the case that I instinctively recoil from it, and I wish drama writers would stop and think 12 times before deciding if its use is really necessary or compelling in their stories.

#drama tropes #noble idiocy #just between lovers #because this is my first life #plus and minus #a boss and a babe #we best love #shan answers

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spgothkidsheadcanons · 1 year

Note

Can you write the goths with a s/o who's aesthetic is the opposite of theirs like pink and cute stuff? I'm a sucker for opposites attract if you couldn't tell lol💕

This is so cute omfg

Opposites attract is the only trope that actually matters

SFW/NSFW

Warnings: Mentions of bullying (nothing too serious)

~~~~~~

Michael:

- Michael thinks you are quite possibly the cutest thing that has ever walked on Earth

- The first time he met you, he developed a soft spot for you, as well as a need to protect you from any harm that may come to you

- Except the only harm that has come your way has been the multiple Sanrio and Squishmallow stuffies that he flooded your room with

- For real though, he spoils the hell out of you

- He can’t help it. He sees something pink or sparkly, he thinks of you, and before he knows it, he’s walking out of a store with a shopping back full of random pink items and a new hole burned into his pocket

- Michael won’t wear pink clothes, but if you gave him something like a pink bracelet, he’d always have it on

- When you started staying at his house more, it was like a pink takeover

- Dishes, blankets, pillows, EVERYTHING

- But he couldn’t have been more happier with you, so he happily enjoys it just to make you happy (just realized that I used all variations of ‘Happy’ but I’m not changing it lmao)

Henrietta:

- Henrietta picks on you for your taste, but she’s just being an asshole

- She really loves how sweet and innocent you are

- She’s gonna taint you 😈

- For real though, she loves how cute you look when you show her your new skirt or shoes

- Always always ALWAYS is making you some sort of dress or skirt whenever she finds a nice fabric she thinks you’d like

- LET HER DRESS YOU UP IN HER STYLE AND THEN MAKE HER DRESS UP IN YOUR STYLE

- She thinks she’s revolting in your clothes but can be convinced to try again just to see you happy

- Anytime she finds any snacks that are strawberry or cherry flavored, she buys them for you

- She just loves you a lot even though she thinks pink is an eyesore

Pete:

- Oh, my sweet uncaring of what you wear Pete

- I’m serious. He could care less about what you wore

- There’s absolutely no doubt that he thinks you are truly the most precious thing to ever walk this Earth, but he sees you for you, not the clothes you wear

- You’re sweet, you love him enough to be with him, you don’t care about how he loks

- Pete feels like he hit the jackpot when he found out you returned his affections

- Loves when you grab your favorite stuffy, your signature pink blanket, and cuddle up beside him on the couch. You can force him to watch whatever you want once you have him flustered, and if that means the entire Hello Kitty collection, then you guys are gonna watch the entire Hello Kitty collection

- Whistles and pretends he knows nothing about the packages with your name on it filled to the brim with pink everything that have suddenly started showing up at your home

- If people make fun of you for what you wear, you’d have to hold Pete back because he can, AND WILL, beat the shit out of anyone who dares speak bad about you

- You can, and absolutely have, dress him up to match you. He doesn’t care, and he’s never lied about pink looking good on him lol

#sp goth kids #south park goth kids #south park headcanons #sp fanfiction #south park michael #sp michael #sp michael x reader #south park pete #sp pete #sp henrietta #sp headcanons #south park fanfiction #south park michael x reader #south park pete x reader #sp pete x reader #south park henrietta x reader #sp henrietta x reader

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 4 days

Note

Let's say you have complete creative control.

How would you write a Marinette (non-Akuma/Amok) corruption arc?

If I had complete creative control, I wouldn't do a corruption arc for Marinette, I'd do one for Gabriel. But I'm assuming you want me to pretend I would do one for Marinette, so I will because why not? How I'd do it would depend heavily on when the writing team gave up and shoved the story into my hands. For the purposes of this hypothetical, I'm going to have to lean into the bad writing, so read on at your own risk.

Current state: as of the end of season five, Marinette seemingly knows that Adrien is a sentimonster. Marinette also has anxiety issues and there's a new butterfly villain on the loose whose knowledge regarding Adrien and connection to Gabriel are unknown. We also have Felix's previous less-than-heroic actions and Nathalie's status as Gabriel's former right hand lady. With all these less-than-awesome people out there, fully aware of Adrien's vulnerability, we have a pretty fantastic setup for an arc where Marinette gets ever more paranoid and controlling in the name of keeping Adrien safe from this new villain. Basically have her spiral into Gabriel 2.0 where her love for Adrien is used to justify terrible things. Not a setup I'd want to watch, but it does fit the show's treatment of The Power of Love so, you know, do with that what you will.

Season three up to near the end of season five: Something to do with Lila making Marinette lose all faith in her friends because, if you're going to write them as terrible friends, you may as well own it. Have Marinette feel like she's sacrificing everything for people who treat her like a villain or a child in spite of all she does, so she decides why bother to be the good guy? Why make all these sacrifices when it never works out for her? I'd probably have her stop showing up to fights like Chat Noir did in Kuro Neko, only if Ladybug did that it would be a much bigger deal. You could even have her full out quit and give Chat Noir her miraculous and the miracle box as a bit of a "fine, you do it and see if you can do it better" thing. Basically anything that lets her go fully selfish due to pressure and poor treatment since it's really not fair that Adrien's the only one who's allowed to miss battles and give up his miraculous when he doesn't feel appreciated.

A variation on this could be quitting because of something like her friends are putting too much pressure on her re:Adrien combined with the show's love of never letting her make the right call when it really matters, so she snaps from all this pressure on every side.

Pre season three: I don't think there's really a great lead up to a corruption in the earlier seasons. Things were pretty great back then. Idk, maybe have her snap from frustration with Chat Noir never taking things seriously, so she starts mimicking him, leading to people getting hurt? (Reminder, I think this is a writing issue when it comes to Chat Noir, but it's there and I said we were going to lean into canon's bad writing for this so here we are.)

And there you go! My takes on evil!Marinette. As I said at the start, I'm not interested in writing any of these. While I do think canon has the setup for them, they rely too heavily on things canon should never have done. Things that don't fit my image of Marinette's core character.

I'm also not big on corruption arcs for heroes. For me, they fall under the same category as the broken partnership/team trope: interesting concept, but one that's rarely executed in a satisfying way. They also tend to be too depressing and/or tragic for my tastes.

My two major hobbies are writing/reading fiction and studying world history/cultures. World history isn't all doom and gloom, but there's a lot of harsh, tragic, and sad things to be found in the past. As such, I've never really enjoyed fictional stories with a hopeless feeling to them. I turn to fictional worlds to escape reality. To go to places full of satisfying endings that are, at worst, bittersweet. If I'm reading a tragedy, I want something that's all or mostly historical fact. Not a matter of judgment, just one of personal preference.

#ask response

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in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather · 9 months

Text

Birthday Week Vignettes

As a little gift for my bestie and worstie, for her birthday week, I’ve written a selection of fun little vignettes (stretching the terms fun, little and vignette to mean several thousand words of something gory or fucked up).

It has been the greatest and most treasured experience I’ve had on here getting to know you. From the hilarious shit talking, to expanding my horizons in terms of what I read and write, and giving each other constant new ideas and support, I am so grateful for all the downsides of existing in an online space as it’s meant making a wonderful, cherished friend. Happy birthday and may we enjoy your presence in our lives and this garbage fire for a long, long time to come! 😍😍❤️❤️😈😈 @safarigirlsp

Day 1; assassin!Mills x RC

Summary: The Museum needs two operatives to pose as a married couple and go into a chateau full of depraved people letting loose and acting out their fantasies in an Eyes wide shut-type party. That old chestnut.

A/N: I’m a sucker for going undercover as a couple, in every iteration of that trope, and undercover at a sex party is an especially fun variation. This little episode didn’t fit into my main assassin!Mills story, but it was too interesting to throw out completely, so this seems like the best way to share it. If you like the premise, I’m happy to write a conclusion for it.

CW: mentions of wlw, mlm, group sex, fetishes, voyeurism, dubcon, murder, drugs, alcohol, sex work

WC: ~5.5k

Cipher and Gage picked up their small leather bags soon after they landed, exiting the airport hand in hand. Cipher’s steel toe boots thumped loudly on the tiles, his long leather coat rustling with every casual move of his tall, broad frame. Gage sized him up out of the corner of her black-rimmed eye, appreciating the sexy, disheveled swoop of his sandy hair, the frosty glint of his blue eyes, his sharp jawline dusted with a few days’ growth of beard. Her eyes wandered lower, to the tight black tank top that peeked out from his unbuttoned white shirt, the studded belt drawn tight around his narrow hips, and the tightly coiled muscles of his legs working under his equally tight pants. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him in the car. Their quick encounter in the airplane toilet was too short for her appetite.

She walked briskly in her six inch shiny leather boots, barely reaching his shoulder despite the added height, feeling the chill in the airport as a gust blew under her scandalously short skirt. A man walking past them balked at what the blown up material revealed and she giggled to herself. Cipher squeezed her hand tighter and walked even faster in retaliation, leaving her to practically run to catch up with him. They barely jumped into the stretch limousine parked and waiting to take them to the rendezvous point that Rostov decided on when Cipher pulled her roughly onto his lap and glared, squeezing his large hand painfully around her thigh until she squirmed and pouted, removing her round Windsor sunglasses and giving him a plaintive look, all innocence and invitation. She had often remarked that it didn’t serve him any good to get all worked up over other men ogling her like that; if he wanted an attractive and flirty wife like her, then there were consequences to deal with.

They had enough time to redress and clean up as well as could be managed on a backseat when the limousine pulled up on Museum property. The partition rolled down and an Acquisitions operative pointed the barrel of a gun at the pair.

The heavy metal door creaked and moaned as it was pushed open for Adriane. She entered the small circular cell, windowless and bleached by harsh white halogen lights, where Cipher and Gage sat bound and gagged.

Without gracing either with eye contact, Adriane walked briskly, sweeping an elegant circle around the small cell, her heels clacking an ominous rhythm on the concrete floor. “In a moment, you will be separated. You will never see each other again,” she spoke the chilling words quietly and emotionlessly, as though to herself, as she circled the young pair like a crow awaiting carrion to feast on. “Whoever talks first will go free. The other will not leave this place alive.” She tossed the last words over her shoulder as she slipped like a shadow out the door and it closed heavily behind her.

She was not negotiating. She was not trying to entice them with anything only to pull the rug out from under them, as other people they had dealt with in the past had. The pair understood the danger they were in as they locked eyes, determined to leave this place together, and alive.

30 minutes, my office. A, the letters scrolled across the beeper in your hand.

When you arrived, with a minute to spare, you were feeling pretty smug about yourself that you managed not to be late, to say nothing of the fact you were chosen as the operative to be entrusted with this last minute, highly sensitive task.

Adriane’s office looked like the wardrobe department of some grungy photo shoot, with distressed denim, faux leather, fishnets and studs galore. Racks and racks of clothing were hurriedly rolled in, no doubt for the purpose of outfitting for this impromptu exhibition you were going on.

“Our guests have a meeting with their prospective employer this evening. We intercepted the coordinates Rostov provided and took Cipher and Gage on a detour here,” Adriane informed as Mills strode out from behind a rack with an armful of clothes. You looked from him to Adriane, wondering if this was some test and her omitting he would be there was supposed to catch you by surprise. Satisfied you did not betray your heart jumping into your throat, you diverted your attention to the racks of female clothing surrounding you.

“Won’t he know we’re not them? You know, when he looks at us?” you asked too snarkily for someone who knew Adriane wouldn’t waste anyone’s time if this was a real concern.

“Rostov doesn’t know what they look like. Both he and our guests are too discreet in their dealings to allow something like that. And the private party you are attending is designed to ensure privacy. At least where your faces are concerned.”

You felt a nervous knot tie in your gut, thinking ahead at what the night would more than likely demand of you. “And their stupid nicknames?” you asked, forcibly casual, as you pressed a red plaid skirt to your hips, wondering if it would even cover half your ass.

“For the same reason. They are decently intelligent, cautious people in their business dealings, even if their behavior otherwise is questionable. Under different circumstances, they might have been potential operatives for the Museum. As it stands, their use is limited to a single outing.”

You followed Adriane to her laptop computer, as thick as a briefcase, sitting in front of her leather chair, with a video paused. Scattered on the desk were photos of Cipher and Gage, taken over the last few weeks, as evidenced by the changes in the color and style of their hair. They were photographed several times in rather compromising positions, not that they seemed to mind. Gage was always smiling brightly when her hand was shoved possessively in Cipher’s back pocket, and he was not shy about embracing her in a town square and kissing her with what you personally deemed to be an excess of tongue, with both his hands on her ass, peeking out of another too-short skirt. Frenzied moaning and the squeak of leather grabbed your attention and you looked up at the video Adriane played.

“This was just over an hour ago, in the back of the car we sent for them,” she informed, looking unimpressedly at the screen.

The parallels between you and Julian were not lost on you. Two people, outrageously in love, killing for a living. Except the pair rutting wildly in a limo were free to be out in the open, not concealing anything from anyone, while you could only look at Julian askance and steal brief moments when you were sure no one was looking, which was hardly ever.

“The girl has great stamina,” you quipped, averting your eyes discreetly. From their copious, almost defiant public displays of affection, you didn’t imagine either would be bothered to know a few people had watched some blurry, low resolution footage of their intercourse, but the aversion was for your sake, not letting the Museum make a voyeur out of you. It was enough they made you a ghost and a killer.

“You need to become Cipher and Gage for the duration of this Exhibition,” Adriane underscored. “They are ruthless, reckless, and passionate. Their reputation precedes them in Rostov’s inner circle.”

“We understand,” Mills assured, seeming to imply that even if you didn’t quite get it, he did.

Adriane came up to stand next to you and snatched the blue tinged, white rimmed sunglasses off your face, replacing them with a dark, edgy pair more in line with Gage’s confirmed style. “Rostov is a hedonist with wild delusions of grandeur. He will try to flirt with you, and his demands are known to go far,” she informed in a tone that signaled you were to go along with it, as far as necessary.

“I’m cool,” you shrugged, stomach twisting with disgust you were still not entirely able to suppress.

“He will likely flirt with you too, Julian,” Adriane said in the same demanding tone to him.

“Mh,” he grunted vaguely, shucking on a leather biker jacket and ruffling his hair, as he studied his reflection, deciding if it all came together just right for Cipher.

You barely contained a grin, thinking of this scrawny little man, twisted with perversion, trying to entice the architectural marvel that was Julian Mills.

A clink of metal on hard wood rang through the air. “Put these on.”

Julian made his way to Adriane’s desk first, picking up the two rings with discreet tracking devices installed inside. He deftly slipped the smaller one up to the knuckle of his ring finger and let the other one drop. You followed moments behind and picked up the ring off the desk. It gaped around your ring finger, looking too big even for your thumb.

“Doesn’t fit,” you dismissed, setting it down and pushing it towards Adriane.

“Let me,” Julian said lowly, his long, thick fingers wrapping around your wrist. He brought your hand up and twisted the ring off his finger, sliding it carefully over yours and inspecting his work when he was done. He seemed to approve of the way your hand looked adorned with his wedding ring.

He then picked the other ring up and set it in your hand, expecting you to put it on him.

“Do I have to love, honor and obey?” you looked up at him as he offered a waiting hand. His silence filled the air with crackling intensity and you fought with yourself not to look away.

“Just obey,” Adriane answered for him and brought the moment to an end. Without ceremony, you slipped the ring on Julian’s finger and turned away from both of them.

Obey, you scoffed inwardly. Love was easy. Honor, you conceivably could. The only demand they both had of you was the one you struggled with most.

“You leave in 15 minutes,” Adriane informed as dispassionately as ever.

Before you left, curiosity got the better of you. “You got all this information out of them… Which one cracked?”

“They both did, of course,” Adriane gave a serene, composed smile, assured in the Museum’s methods.

“So who got to go free?”

Adriane blinked and for a moment, you had the distinct sense a huge grin would slice across her face. A jeering, hideous one, mocking your naiveté. “You should go get ready,” was all the reply she would give, and all the reply you needed.

As you descended in the gold-adorned elevator, on your way to the armory, Julian was quiet, looking at his panel and committing every detail of the plan, of Cipher and Gage’s history and activities, of intelligence on Rostov - all he could - to memory.

“Why was I chosen for this task?” you asked, choosing the opposite approach to Julian’s and clearing your mind before jumping into the task at hand.

He was silent as you descended for several levels and you started to assume he had not even registered your question. “It was an opportunity to improve your field mechanics,” he answered like a politician on the campaign trail.

Silence then followed from you. “Field mechanics,” you repeated, deeply unconvinced.

He turned and looked hard at you, pleading with you to hear what he was not allowed to say. “Adriane is under the impression that we are convincing as two people in love.”

It was not a compliment. The words had the cadence of a slur, and his tone of regret. It was not a good thing at all. He narrowed his eyes, satisfying himself that you took his meaning correctly.

The warm sunset, full of purples and oranges, gave way to a fine evening as you drove outside the city. As soon as you exited, you donned your masks as a precaution, wary of how far Rostov’s eyes reached. Yours was a white mask that extended into a crescent moon shape above your forehead and under your chin. Along its edges and around the eyes, the mask was outlined in silver and small stars twinkled along its face. Julian’s mask was white and gold, representing the sun, with five curvy rays creating an inverted pentagram around the smooth white face of the mask, adorned with golden arabesque designs. You looked at each other once the masks were on and the eerie blank canvass they presented, not knowing what face and expression they hid, was chilling.

You joined the scattered trail of other cars, uniformly black and armored, as they traveled noiselessly down a private road that would have been impossible to find without very specific instructions. The road was maintained to perfection, allowing you to glide smoothly down and weave its serpentines as they appeared without the slightest trouble. If not for the heady mix of trepidation and excitement that kept you wired and buzzing awake, you could have been lulled into a dreamlike sleep and sunk into the impenetrable darkness that surrounded you.

After stretching for what felt like an eternity, the road finally ended at a well-fortified gate, where you were ushered in and led up a lavishly landscaped path. A veritable army of masked guards stood sentinel all along the path, the entrance to a grand building and all the way to a sequestered area separated by gold stanchions and a red rope. Neither the host nor the guests wanted the security’s scrutiny while indulging in their hidden pleasures, a mistake that Julian and you were instructed to exploit. Behind unadorned gunmetal gray masks, the guards’ eyes followed every guest as they approached the rope forbidding entrance to the room beyond to all but a select few. There, you were instructed to shed your clothing and don party attire.

Rostov had purchased the magnificent château a few years back and it currently served as the crown jewel of his ostentatious tendencies and debauched proclivities. He restored it to its former glory, and had it outfitted with every modern comfort to boot, ensuring maximum pleasure and safety. It soon became the perfect place to host his monthly bacchanals, a pleasurable distraction from his usual activities of acquiring and testing biological weapons.

Invitations were handed out either to former collaborators who had displayed a keen sadistic and perverted streak, or to prospective talent, like Cipher and Gage, to ascertain if they possessed the requisite depravity of character to join in on Rostov’s activities unflinchingly. Masks and the privacy of the location guaranteed zero risk of discovery and damage to anyone’s reputation that would result from engaging in this sort of activity in a public venue.

With that in mind, you did not hesitate to disrobe. There was little to remove anyway and the mask served another useful purpose in making you bolder by hiding your face and whatever chagrined expression it might reveal. Julian watched, his eyes moving appreciatively behind his white and gold mask, as your skirt hit the floor and you removed your cropped top in one smooth movement. He waited, and at first you wondered why, but quickly surmised he meant to wait and have you undress him. You were proven right when he stepped into you as your last stitch of clothing came off and stood facing you, to shield you from any prying eyes. He did not put it beyond this rabble to be spying on guests as they changed. You slipped his trench coat off and, suddenly aware of your nakedness and his imposing proximity, made quick work of his shirt and pants, unzipping them roughly and making him flinch, before tugging them down just as harshly. Remembering your role, you chuckled, as though you had done it to tease him and crossed your arms over your bare chest, eager for the dress, as revealing as it was. Julian seemed unfazed by being completely naked in a large anteroom and offered the white halter neck satin dress for you to step into. The dress had a large slit in the side and flowed with every step, and the back was left entirely bare. It glided as smoothly as water up your body as he pulled it up and tied it at the base of your neck. He pressed his mask into your neck, in an approximation of a steadying kiss, and you felt the length of his body pressed into you, with the material of the dress dividing you leaving little to the imagination.

Julian’s attire was similarly revealing. A similar white material folded and tucked in around his hips, like the bottom half of a toga, and draped over his torso, cinched over one shoulder with a gold hoop and cascading down like a cape. He looked like an ancient marble statue, its perfection exaggerated by an impassioned artist in ardent love with his model, was brought to life.

The low thump of the music pulsed through the closed door as you neared it, and Julian brushed the bare skin of your lower back with his clever fingers as he claimed your waist, holding you close to his side as you ascended the steps and entered the party.

The renovated château was a blend of showy rococo and sleek modern styles. The dichotomy made for a luxurious experience, striking a balance between the lavish furnishings of the past and the present-day creature comforts, such as telephones, cameras, air conditioning, and modern mechanics. You followed a servant, distinguished by her plain gunmetal gray mask, into a spacious ballroom where the main activities were taking place. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn over the tall windows that lined the walls, keeping the lighting in the room low and atmospheric with only the dimmed chandeliers and scattered candelabras to set the mood. Dry ice created a mist swirling around the floor and ghosting around your steps. Erotic house music filtered in from the speakers embedded high above, and its thumping bass rattled in your bones as it provided a steady rhythm to rut to.

You passed sections of the ballroom, some divided by pillars and more heavy drapery, others raised on a dais, and each offered different activities. In some, more accessible areas, guests mingled and leaned masked faces close to exchange conversation and toasts, lifting only the bottoms of their masks to take quick sips. On a chaise longue, red and trimmed in gold, lay a man with his toga hiked up around his waist, straddled and vigorously ridden by a woman with nipple piercings connected by a series of chains and pendants, and her dark skin extensively tattooed. A small group of people, in various stages of undress gathered around them and commented on the participants and their activity.

You passed onto a higher level, leaving the couple behind you, and noticed that this area had raised platforms around one central viewing point. Each platform had two red leather sofas, one lower and one higher, permitting more positions and participants, surrounded by several waist-high columns. Each column held an object for members to use, either for pleasure or pain. You took in a few, including phallus-shaped implements, ball gags, riding crops, and pliers. In the viewing area, more of those comfortable chaise longues were laid out for those wishing to observe. Several platforms were currently occupied, but one drew your attention. A masked woman had her long legs wrapped around two men, one inside of her, the other inside of the man between them, and the three were being observed by a masked man in a black robe. He was one of Rostov’s inner circle, designated by his robe as untouchable – unless he asked to be – and irrefusable. His build was wrong; he was too young and too fit to be Rostov, so you moved on.

Sooner rather than later, you remembered as the stench of too many bodies fucking in an enclosed space hit your nostrils, you would have to engage in some activity yourself, lest your restraint draw unwanted attention. Even now, you felt appraising eyes land on you and Julian as you passed. You could not blame them. For all the young and attractive participants present, paid or drugged, who walked around and offered themselves like hors d’oeuvres to be sampled, they smacked of sex workers who were only doing a job. Some had the shaky, twitchy physique of junkies, while others had the used up bodies of veteran sex workers. You and Julian, by contrast, were trained by the Museum to be lethal, and having looks to kill was not a mere phrase where you came from. All those lessons in walking runways, learning classical dances, gymnastics, yoga, and the subtle art of erotica over the two years of your training made you both stand out in the most noteworthy way. Every step showed off your bodies, effortless grace and proud bearing; every brush of your fingers against Julian’s sculpted arm promised something more between you, and you felt eager eyes follow you, hoping to witness the moment you decided to take it farther.

The sounds of leather cracking and moans, quickly drowned out by delighted praise or mockery, led you into a large chamber, lined with ornate columns. A red carpet painted the floor red and several servants walked unobtrusively around with smoking censers, diffusing aphrodisiac scents around the cavernous chamber and perfuming the aroma of sex before it grew stale. In its center sat a long table, with a smorgasbord of men and women on top. From your vantage point, you could see two women with their heads between the other’s legs, one on her back, the other over her on her knees, both writhing and exaggerating their pleasure as their surgically enhanced breasts jiggled in one unmoving spot. Next to them were two handsome men on their sides, performing the same act and moaning deeply around the other’s shaft. In the middle was a piano bench with three women of widely varying ages in an embrace, busily alternating positions and acts. Around the table sat the more important attendees, watching, some stroking themselves or others under the table. The first woman you’d seen dressed in a black robe sat on the lap of a bony old man, his skin hanging like wet paper over his frame. She wriggled on his lap from his touch under her robes and pulled up a sleeve to offer her arm. He produced a syringe and injected her with a cloudy substance before resuming his ministrations. Julian walked by and caught the woman’s attention. She reached out for him and he extended her a hand, letting her pull him in close as she arched her back and spread herself across the table for him to sample. Julian loomed over her until she couldn’t wait anymore and tugged on his arm, splaying his large hand over her comparatively small breast, instructing him to knead at her chest. He did so, leaning closer over her so he could swipe the empty syringe from the floor and tuck it into the folds of his clothing. When he accomplished his task, he disengaged from the woman and you could see her roaming hand had found his way in between the folds of his toga and was trying to get in another one or two strokes as he retreated. As his partner, his wife, for the evening, you felt no need to disguise either your proprietary sense or your jealousy. Grabbing for his elbow, you jerked him towards you and spun him out of the way, positioning yourself between the woman in black and the object of both your desires. Too late it occurred to you that it could be huge mistake to challenge a high-ranking member. Your body spoke for itself, like a cat bristling and hissing, ready to claw out any eye that rested too long on Julian. You looked at her hand, suspended in midair as she considered demanding Julian back. With what relish you would break each and every finger, enjoying the snap of each knuckle. The flash in your eyes seemed to communicate this rather eloquently to the women and she turned back to the decrepit old man she was sitting on and threw her head back, her deranged laughter muffled behind her mask. The scene drew many masked faces to turn towards you and examine you with uncanny glittering eyes from behind impassive disguises. They had the eerie curiosity of carrion birds, waiting for their prey to become carcasses.

Julian drew you close, acting possessively, as if the fighting and territorial behavior was part of your foreplay. Grinding his hips into your backside, you felt him stiffen reflexively. His hands squeezed your hips and you threw your head back against his broad shoulder, letting him play out the scene and get you safely away. His hands roved up your body, following the contours of your waist and ribs. One hand slipped inside your dress and drew a lazy circle around the nipple, drawing it into a stiff peak and rolling it between his rough fingers. You let a shudder roll visibly through you and pressed your thighs theatrically together for the benefit of those savoring your reaction, creating some friction and relief. Julian’s other hand snaked up and coiled around your throat as he bent to whisper in your ear. “Fuck,” you heard a guttural grunt as he panted behind his mask, and his strained voice sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. You arched your back into him before you could think not to and his hips responded with a deep thrust as his stiffening cock sought some relief against the curve of your ass. “We should get out of here, he’s--” words failed him and he had to swallow hard before resuming, “he’s not here.”

As you straightened up, trying to find the closest exit point and make for it, one of the marauding sex workers, emboldened by whatever chemical cocktail she was on, made her way to you and placed one hand over the breast Julian wasn’t cupping, and the other around his neck, inviting herself into your company. Not worried about causing trouble due to her rank, you unceremoniously slapped her hand away from Julian, to delighted comments and encouragements from the throng watching on. She tottered like a toddler and you knew a single push could knock her down, and in her state, she likely wouldn’t even feel it. Still, she did not take the hint and tried to touch Julian again. His hand fell away from you and you caught her wrist, twisting only a little before she crumpled into the ground.

As you turned to leave, you nearly bumped into a woman, stripped to her waist, holding a young man’s wrists over an antique letter writing desk. Another woman, with sagging breasts that suggested breast feeding several children, bound in a leather harness, was whipping the youth across the back while an old man in black robes held his hips and frantically pumped. His legs were wiry and crooked and his gut was visibly round as he worked around the protruding flesh to stick his small member into the young man. You squeezed Julian’s thigh in question, as the gesture could be viewed as announcing your eagerness to join in. He wrapped his hand around yours and stilled you, signaling no. Rostov was scrawnier than this round-bellied man. But you were likely getting close.

Julian raised his masked head towards the upper levels of the chamber. All along the top floor were small viewing chambers, like opera boxes, and most of them held a member dressed in black, with a select guest, or guests, keeping them company. It was there he spied him.

Rostov, ever the attention seeker, was the only attendee with a mask made entirely of gold. Noticeably shorter than the naked woman accompanying him, he seemed to be watching Julian too. Without flinching or looking away, Julian stood and waited for a few beats. Finally, Rostov seemed to make up his mind and with a quick summoning gesture, a servant materialized next to you and asked you to join the host on the uppermost level.

As you were led along the balustrade to Rostov, you saw peep show-like personal rooms with acts going on in glass cages. These seemed to be one per box and, anticipating that you were brought here to perform rather than talk, you were grateful you wouldn’t be ogled by a multitude of criminals. Just one.

In one box, there was a woman in thigh-high boots and a collar around her neck, with a leash leading to some unseen master, bound to a velvet-cushioned chair. The viewer was issuing commands on what was to be done to her and you tried not to listen as you passed that box and approached another. In the glass box, a throuple was enjoying hot wax and blindfolds. At Rostov’s box, you saw a naked man wipe himself down as he exited and a pair of servants untied the woman and helped her out of a harness. The truncated scene confirmed what Julian had shared about Rostov and his penchant for more dominant men and submissive women. Gage’s impish and dominant behavior was a departure from that, so you made sure to remember not to play a meek, passive role.

The small man, hardly larger than a child, wore a golden mask that was reminiscent of hannya masks from Japanese theater, with large eyes, and a twisted grimace with a gaping mouth, revealing sharp teeth. Rostov examined Julian first, holding his large hand in his two small ones, looking at the golden band on his ring finger. He gave yours a glance to confirm he had it right, and let Julian’s hand go. As if examining a thoroughbred, he ran his hands over Julian’s thickly muscled chest, the marvelously sculpted ridges and valleys of his arms.

“You hold Gage so close, so very close,” Rostov said in a thick accent and sighed. “I can see why.” He ran a finger over your mask, down its smooth, cool cheek, and lower still, dragging his small hand flat down your chest, down the valley between your breasts. Julian shifted his weight and his chest involuntarily puffed up, making Rostov huff a small laugh.

He walked a few small steps away, into his box, and Julian surmised he should follow. When Rostov lounged on the divan, Julian did the same, and they were at last on the same plane.

“From the moment you two walked in, I had one single thought.” He waited until Julian leaned in closer, tacitly asking for an answer. “I want to fuck your wife,” he stage-whispered, loud enough for both of you to hear. “This is a family, Cipher,” Rostov placed a proprietary hand on the back of his neck, pulling him intimately in. Without the masks, they would have been a hair away from kissing. Julian heard Rostov’s labored breath behind his mask and was sure the man was hard to bursting, though his proportions were such that robes successfully hid on his body what they could never hope to hide on Julian. The man’s eyes devoured him, taking in his body greedily, lust shining in his beady eyes. “We do everything as a unit,” he coaxed.

Julian did not blink. He was playing the role of a man who did not share the woman he loved, and it came naturally to him. Both he and Cipher were the sort to risk powerful people’s displeasure for what they truly wanted. He observed his host, aware of his own intensely masculine appeal and let the man’s desire win out, breaking his determination and making him willing to negotiate.

“Bah,” the little man waved a frustrated hand, “I can see that your wife is not the sharing sort – for a moment there, I was worried she would break my wife’s arm when she was playing with you. And you can imagine the sort of pain in the ass she would be then,” Rostov laughed and phlegm rattled in his lungs. “I’m saddened to see you have the same sick notions of fidelity.” He sighed again and shook his head. “I’ll satisfy myself with watching you this first time, then.” With the matter decided in his mind, Rostov rolled away from him, and servants came in to escort you and Julian inside the glass box, while the pair that was in it before you came back and fell into an embrace with their host.

@thegrislady @lumberjack00fantasies @queeniebee @vedavan @mythrielofsolitude @house-of-cadwyn

#commander mills x you #commander mills x reader #assassin au

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