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#living out my fantasies through Fanfiction
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*~.It’s so comforting to know I can stay up till 2 am reading the most toe curling, filthy, plotless smut in a warm bed on thanksgiving break. This is what the holidays are all about. *~.
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finntheehumaneater · 2 months
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from the prompts lists for a lil steddie sickfic 👉👈 bonus points if you can get an uncle wayne cameo in there too lmao
“I’m gonna be sick.” & “Look at me - just breathe, okay?”
hallo, liebe!!! I had way too much fun with this. I want to make this universe its own thing. Everybody send me asks about this I want to talk about my domestic steddie AU please, I love them so much.
(All ask prompt lists are in my pinned posts, and sorry for any mistakes, most of this was copied and pasted from photos of notebook paper, and it does not like my handwriting lmao)
TW: throwing up
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Ozzy only liked to eat if someone was watching him. Steve said it was because he wanted to feel safe and protected, but Eddie knew it was because he was an attention whore.
He was currently perched on top of the table, his black tail swiping impatiently as he meowed at Eddie—not pawing the open laptop closed yet, but it looked like he was thinking about it.
“M'doing work, babe,” Eddie muttered gently, reaching out to pet the cat but he ducked away. He rifled through his notes again, trying to remember what name he and Steve had decided for the elven lord. Steve didn’t normally help with Eddie's novel—said he didn't know enough about fantasy and the like, and he didn't want to ruin it—but he had sat down with Eddie on the couch and looked through lists of Welsh names until he found one he thought sounded fit for an elven lord.
And Eddie had agreed, it was a name fit for an elven lord, but he couldn't remember, and he just needed to find the stupid paper with the character names—
Meow!
Eddie's eyes moved back to the cat, and that added on top of the stress of writing made something inside of him snap. “Ozzy, babe. I’m working.”
The cat shied away, his ears flattening and his eyes widening. Eddie ran a hand down his face.This wasn't worth yelling at his cat over.
“Oz…” he closed the laptop and picked up the cat, carrying him to the laundry room. They kept his food on top of the dryer, because when he and Steve had moved in (what... three years ago?) Ozzy had decided that the laundry room was his room, and that people could only actually do the laundry if he liked them.
Eddie set Ozzy down in front of the food dish and pressed a kiss to his side before going to get the hampers from his and Steve's (and Wayne’s) room.
Wayne had been living with them since they had bought the house, and he had lived with them in their apartment before that. he was in charge of doing the “adult things”, even though Eddie and Steve were nearing (thirty twenty-seven for Steve and twenty-eight for Eddie, although Eddie was almost twenty-nine), because Steve's memory couldn't be trusted for things he wasn't one hundred percent in on, and Eddie just couldn't be trusted to do most things on his own. He would much rather be writing.
Wayne still worked as a mechanic, downtown, but this time he liked his job. He'd never leave if he  could, but that meant that he wouldn't get to watch baseball with Steve.
Eddie swore that sometimes it felt like Wayne loved Steve more than him.
Steve was working as a teacher—middle schoolers—and he hadn't been doing it for all that long, but the kids loved him. And he loved them back. Especially one girl named Hayden, because he said she reminded him of Max (Max worked with Gareth at a bookstore a little while away. They shared an apartment, and Max didn't really "work" at the store, seeing how her eyesight fluctuated, but Gareth didn’t mind the company)
And then there was Eddie. Who wrote. The whole rockstar thing hadn't really worked out for him, but he and the guys still got together to play whenever Grant and Jeff were in town.
He was working on his hovel, and he hated every second of it. Sure, he loved writing, but writing an entire-ass-novel was hard.
"It's basically a Lord Of The Rings fanfiction!" He had sobbed to steve one night in bed after he had finally (after six months) finished the rough draft for the outline. “I hate it.”
Steve had just hummed in acknowledgment for a moment, half-curled around Eddie with the messy papers in his hands. "Isn't everything based off of something?"
Eddie had shrugged, keeping his face tucked into Steve’s neck.
“I like Ophelia.” Steve had whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of Eddie's head. "Isn't she the one that stabs the guy with the horns?"
Eddie tried to hum an “mhm” of confirmation, but it came as more of a whine of despair. 
“The drawings you did of her for El were pretty,” Steve had continued, his voice gentle and patient in a way that Eddie adored as he nudged his nose into Eddie's hair a bit more. "You should show her these on Sunday when she and her friend Maya come to visit." Eddie had. And honestly? Aside from Steve and Wayne, El was the only reason the novel was even being made. He wouldn't be able to even open his laptop without her nagging and consistent support over the phone.
She lived up north near Jonathan and Argyle, somewhere near New York, and she drove out with her roommate to visit him and Steve occasionally.
Eddie blinked when Ozzy meowed again, rubbing against his flannel pajama pants he hadn't changed out of yet. "All done, bud?" Ozzy didn't answer. 
Sometimes Eddie felt like he was going insane, talking to his cat.
He put in the detergent and made sure the clothes were spiraled so that they would wash better, before turning it on, the clear lid closed. He didn’t know what buttons to press, but he knew what noise they were supposed to make and in what order. Steve was normally in charge of laundry, but most of the kids had presentations to do, and the other half were doing theirs tomorrow. He’d probably be too tired to do the laundry when he got home.
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Eddie heard the door open and close, and he assumed it was Steve, because Wayne wasn't supposed to be home for another hour or two.
"Stevie?" Eddie called out, and he kept talking when he didn't get an answer, because sometimes Steve got home and had what Eddie called Quiet Time, where he would just stay silent and listen to Eddie talk for a while before taking a shower and maybe having a nap." You want any apple? I had one just before you got here, but I left the peels on a bowl on the table, because I love you and things you like, even though it's weird. There’s seltzer too, but it's probably still warm because I only put them in the fridge like…fifteen minutes ago. Might be fine if you put ice in it, though.”
Eddie knew something was wrong even before Steve shuffled into the kitchen—all hunched over, his eyes rimmed red and his cheeks wet, glasses perched low on his nose, nearly slipping off of his face—because there were no arms wrapped around his waist, no face pressed into his neck, and no Robin Buckley perched on his counter. 
She had been driving Steve to and from... basically everywhere since he had gotten his license taken away. The doctors—and anyone—didn't trust him to drive with his seizures. It had taken Steve a while to get used to not being everyone's personal chauffeur anymore.
"You okay, babes?" Eddie asked softly, concern seeping into his tone as Steve leaned against the doorframe. 
"I feel like I'm gonna be sick,” Steve choked out, his voice strained.
“Oh, sweetheart...did one of your kids get you sick? "Eddie asked, taking Steve’s glasses off and setting them onto the kitchen counter before cupping his elbow and helping him over to the bathroom.
He gently pushed Steve down to kneel in front of the toilet, tugging his hair up and out of his face. It wouldn't have gotten in the way, but it looked adorable when all of the fringe that would normally sweep over his forehead in its coif was gathered up in a little ponytail on top of his head.
As much as Eddie would always be there for Steve, he still made a face and cringed away slightly when Steve threw up, smoothing his hand up and down Steve's spine and shoulders as Steve gagged and sobbed between painful-sounding heaves.
Eddie slipped off Steve's jacket when he went limp in his arms, reaching over to flush the toilet. “Shower?” 
Steve shook his head, his face contorting into something pathetic that made Eddie’s heart tug.
"What's the matter, baby? "Eddie murmured, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist, his chin tucked over Steve's shoulder. He'd make Steve get up and brush his teeth in a bit after he had sat and rested. He was still shaking, so Eddie doubted he would be able to stand okay right then.
“I’ll have to call in sick tomorrow,” Steve gasped, shaking his head. “I won’t be able to go in.”
“You don’t want to stay home and rest? Darling, I love you and you are so beautiful, but you look like death right now. You’re more pale than me.”
“Liam has his presentation tomorrow. I have to be there! H-he has a hard time speaking, and—a-and I don’t want him to be nervous. I promised him I’d be there for him,” Steve said, his voice broken and desperate, and God, Eddie was so in love with man that it physically hurt.
Steve was so kind, and caring, and sweet, and compassionate, and the list just went on, and on, and on. 
“Look at me,” Eddie whispered, his fingers brushing over Steve’s stomach. “Just breathe, okay? Liam will be okay.”
Steve shook his head again, his breath shaky and his hands gripping at Eddie’s arms like he was scared to let go. He looked like he was going to throw up again if he didn’t calm down, and didn’t want him to have to go through that anymore. 
“Liam will be okay,” Eddie repeated, his voice a bit more firm as he pressed a hand gently to Steve’s chest. “Breathe.”
Steve did breathe, but his voice was still shaking, and Eddie’s hand went up and down with each movement. “I promised him…”
“I know you promised him,” Eddie whispered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “But you can’t control these things. He’ll be alright, baby, he’s a good kid.”
Eventually, Steve’s hands loosened and slid up to Eddie’s shoulders. He pushed himself to stand, and Eddie followed after him. “I’m…I’m okay now.”
“You’re okay,” Eddie parroted back, rubbing Steve’s arm up and down as Steve got his toothbrush out of the mug Wayne had put in the bathroom shelf. It was for some fishing company in the Adirondacks that Eddie had never heard of.
The door creaked open just a bit more than it already was and in strolled Ozzy, meowing lightly. Eddie picked him up when he stood to paw at his thigh, cooing, “Aw, there’s my baby…”
He pressed a kiss to the top of Ozzy’s head, and the cat meowed in protest, now seeing it be a bit against his original plan of being cradled and snug in Eddie’s arms if it meant he had to be kissed.
The poor thing lived a very hard life. 
“M’thought I was your baby,” Steve muttered around his toothbrush, and Eddie rolled his eyes, gently knocking his hip into Steve’s, kissing Ozzy’s head again as he squirmed and tried to escape the confines of Eddie’s arms.
“I can have more than one baby,” he said, and then his voice turned more serious. “Oh, shit, I have to call Nance and tell her that we can’t have Megan over tomorrow afternoon.”
Megan was Nancy’s three year old daughter, and she was lovely, but she was stubborn.
Steve’s face crumpled slightly as he washed the toothbrush off, and Eddie watched him try to hide it by pinching at his nose and sighing. “I’m so sorry, Eds, this is ruining all of our plans…”
“Hey, no,” Eddie set Ozzy down when he started to kick at his arm, biting at the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Steve, honey…”
Steve’s eyes were glassy again when Eddie finally got him to look at him. “I hate being sick,” he practically whimpered, his expression pleading, and fuck—if Eddie could make him feel better he would, but that wasn’t really an option.
“I know, sweet thing,” Eddie murmured sympathetically, pressing a kiss to Steve’s knuckles. “You wanna go and lay down? I’ll get you some Tylenol?”
Steve nodded and Eddie helped him to bed, getting him changed even though he could do it himself. He got Steve the pill and some water and told him that if he wanted to shower when he woke up he could, but the water couldn’t be hot in case he passed out again, like he had the last time he was sick. Head injuries with Steve were no joke.
He got Steve’s bag from where he had left it by the front door when he had come in, then switched the laundry over and when he was just sitting down to work again, Wayne got home.
“You’re early.”
Wayne shrugged, picking up one of the apple peels out of the bowl and popping it into his mouth. “Katie forced me to come back before I started workin’ on another car.”
“Hm,” Eddie hummed, opening the laptop. “Steve got home sick, so be nice.”
“M’always nice.”
Eddie sighed, shaking his head slightly with a smile before getting back to work.
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Steve hadn’t wanted Eddie to sleep with him in case he got sick, too—offering to sleep on the couch instead so that Eddie could have the bed, but Eddie had very lovingly said “fuck no” to that. He was curled around Steve, nose pressed into the sweaty hair on the back of Steve’s neck. 
Wayne was out on their neighbor’s porch smoking, and Ozzy was put away in the laundry room (his cat house had been moved there before Eddie crawled into bed, he wasn’t evil) so that he wouldn’t wake everyone up at four in the morning. 
There was a trash can by the bed, because Steve had thrown up again after dinner, even though he had barely eaten anything. 
“How much did you write today?” Steve whispered, voice scratchy and hoarse 
“You’re supposed to be sleeping, babes,” Eddie muttered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s shoulder.
“But how much?”
“Three thousand, maybe. Maybe a bit less.”
“That’s a lot.”
“Debatable.”
Steve laughed, then coughed, wincing.
“Go to sleep,” Eddie whispered, his lips brushing against Steve’s skin.
Steve still had that ridiculous ponytail on top of his head. Either he didn’t know it was there still, or he had finally come around to realizing how adorable it was.
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(More of this au, and the Doemstic!Steddie AU MasterList) Permanent taglist: @anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @here4thetrama @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369
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margueritedaisies · 3 months
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Hubba bubba😔🤌🥀✨
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And so the plot thickens:
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I have a plot idea where Pentious writes steamy selfshipping romance books involving his self insert and The Radio Demon as a hobby. Somehow he gained popularity and money out of it. He goes by a feminine pseudonym to hide his identity. Quite popular among the female audience, he just has a way with satisfying the female gaze through words.
Most of his works always follow psychological horror ,mystery, crime, and maybe gothic romance tropes lol. His mastery is comparable to Anne Rice with a mix of Dostoevsky. I mean what do you even expect from a Victorian man in writing fanfiction?😂
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(To our standards his works are a literary masterpiece but tbh he aint even trying , probably just his silly fantasies and took inspiration from his fave reading material. To Victorian standards his work would be considered frivolous and mediocre even scandalous. I mean he lived a life where he has the privilege to interact with artistic geniuses, discuss politics/social/philosophical ideologies among the elite in parlors.
And most likely really influential since he was an inventor who was involved in creating the new fangled steam powered machines.)
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Praising his achievements and background aside let me get back to continuing my plot😂I just love him sm
Alastor knows about the book series but doesnt know the author's identity, he has no interest in dwelling on their existence any further. He already used to this side of his fanbase and only wishes to be left alone by them, at least they got an outlet already.
When Pentious started staying at the hotel he had to be extra careful not to let anyone know of his hobby while at the same time trying to continue it. But one day he got sloppy, Niffty figured him out for a few days. Either noticing weird behavioral patterns.
Once she purposefully tripped him so the suspicious manuscripts he was carrying were dropped so she can"help" him collect them but he reacted paranoidly to her on coming close.
She caught a glimpse anyway but not enough to satisfy her curiosity. And then her suspicions were solidified when she sneaked inside Pentious's lair/suite for cleaning duty and came across his typewriter.
After discovering Pentious was the author whom she was a huge fan of (yes she has a copy of his works) she set out on a mission to befriend the snake so she can have premium access to his drafts😂
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lenavonschweetz · 9 months
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Hunter Insert
Dean Winchester x Reader
Synopsis: You really didn’t mean to, but somehow you’d stumbled upon something called Tumblr - and in turn fanfiction. You may or may not get addicted to reader inserts featuring your favorite teammate. You may or may not get caught.
Warnings: Smut, second-hand embarrassment, adorable Dean, fanfiction cliches, fanfiction cliches turned on their heads, fluffy smut.  It’s ok (and quite adorable, honestly) to laugh during sexytimes.
A/N: This is just a reworking of one of my most popular Bucky x reader fics!  Tweaked for the Supernatural world and storyline. No Beta, so be kind!
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You’d had a thing for Dean Winchester for longer than you could remember.
It probably all started when you met Sam Winchester at school.  The tall goober took to you immediately.  Your calming presence and warm smile lured him in and you became fast friends, giving Sam a bond he hadn’t felt in a long time.  You were the only one he trusted enough to tell the truth about his family and their business.  He spoke of his older brother with bucket loads of admiration, though he would never admit it to the man in question.  When he told stories of their shenanigans back in the day, his eyes would light up but then his smile would fall just as quickly when he also recalled his father.  You fell in love with the idea of a man glorious enough to make even displaced, ‘unwanted’ (his words, not yours), and jaded Sam smile like the kid he never got to be.
They say reality never lives up to the stories, but lord almighty were they wrong.
You first met Dean when the business of his dad’s disappearance was in full swing.  A regular weekly movie night at Sam and Jessica’s place having turned tense when an unknown figure had broken in.  You remember your eyes had wandered to his dark figure, speaking to Sam in hushed tones, head reeling as you realized this was the man who haunted your dreams. The infamous older brother and monster hunter, Dean Winchester.
You hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but the way his impossibly hazel eyes made your heart clench… Well, there was no denying this is exactly what was happening.  
After Jessica had died you sat out the first leg of their search for their father, wanting to let them catch up.  It wasn’t until after their father was long dead, and the apocalypse was well on its way that you joined back in - or rather, were dragged back in.  Being the only woman currently in Sam’s life - though platonically, of course - the universe seemed to have it out for you and after having to save you from demons at least twice, the brothers claimed teaching you how to defend yourself and dragging you along with them would be safer than leaving you to whatever fate there was to be had.  You even became an incredibly capable hunter.  Though this was all after Sam had effectively ended the world with a demon lover who screwed him over, Dean died then came back thanks to the help of an angel - Castiel - who joined in your asinine little game, and the apocalypse really started.  Because life with the Winchesters was never simple.
And through all your years together, there was always the looming reality - or rather, fantasy - of the Supernatural books by Chuck Shurley.
At first, the fans were harmless.  There was the convention incident where reality and fantasy got a little too close, but Chuck assured you he was going to stop writing the books.  
He lied, obviously.
Still, the fandom was mostly benign - and rather small, actually, with only some fanatics here and there. Although perhaps your favorite attention to come from the ‘fame’ was from Tumblr.
Folks from all over the world posted about the boys - or rather their ‘fictional’ counterparts. Artists’ work would pop up from time to time, usually of the boys, but yours were there - even if they were pretty scarce. 
The art was amazing.  Some funny comics, some lewd drawings, some gorgeous renders - all talent.  But somehow, from Chuck’s descriptions of you and the boys, these artists rendered the most flattering, wonderful, and accurate works.  It was incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring all at once.  It even got you to start reading the books!
And you couldn’t blame them for the way the brothers were almost always shirtless or naked. They were like Greek statues, for God sake!
Your character was pretty popular, up until Chuck’s latest book where he started hinting at your little crush on the older brother.  Thank God the boys never read them, or you’d be in deep shit.
Some users sided with you “she’s only human! And he is just so…well, look at him!” Lewd pictures were attached to that post.  Others condemned you. “Seriously? How could he ever notice someone like her? #DeanDeservesBetter” “What’s Chuck thinking?”, “Worst.  Ship. EVER!”
Those stung, you’d admit. But if growing up in the 21st century taught you anything, it’s that fans were only jealous and no one was safe. You could ignore the hate though.
What you couldn’t ignore was the fanfiction.
Oh goodness, the fanfiction.
What seemed to be most popular were the reader inserts with your gorgeous teammate, and you didn’t mind indulging in them one little bit. Some were sweet and cute, others left you dashing for a cold shower after. It stunned you that these writers were able to capture Dean’s mannerisms and personality so well! And these works were just so addicting!
It became a daily thing, finding a new fic, and reading it in the safety of your room where no one could see or judge. You read reader inserts, stories with original characters, and may or may not have found a guilty pleasure in a teensy bit of Destiel (who could deny the two perfect specimens would be hot as hell together?? But you would never tell them).  You steered clear of the Dean x Lisa fics, though, like your life depended on it.
That was one torture you just couldn’t expose yourself to.
Then you stumbled over the one that changed everything. A new fic by one of your favorite authors that featured Dean (of course) and…you. It was a prompt you hadn’t read before, one where the two of you had to share a motel room with only one bed and things got hot and heavy. Your heart raced as you indulged in this fantasy, thinking of all the times you had to share a room with your teammates, though there was always more than one bed. You had never shared with Dean, as he usually bunked on the couch while you and Sam each bunked alone, but a girl can dream can’t she?
And dream you did.  Especially with Dean’s constant flirting and sexual innuendos.
The story became a constant thought in the back of your mind and when Sam hangs back at the bunker and leaves you and Dean to take on a duet hunt together, you felt your heart stop. At the motel when checking in, you were given one room and your mind ran ramped.  Had he read your phone’s history? Did he find your Tumblr? What if he had read the sinful story you’d found and wanted to live out the fantasy with you (another of your favorite prompts). The thoughts had you following silently behind your partner, heart racing as he smiled at you while his deft fingers unlocked the door. Steeling yourself as you walked inside behind him, you dropped your bags and spun around to find… 2 beds.
Oh.
Well, you supposed your dirty fantasies were just that; Fantasies.
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The night crawled on with no notable incidents -unfortunately-, and when it was finally time to call it a night, you both fell into your own beds.
Sleep evaded you for hours. The thought of that perfect body lying just feet away from you swam in the back of your mind. You could easily get up, crawl into bed with him, and make all your dreams come true. The fantasies that filled your head made you anything but tired.
Well, that, and the fact that Dean was snoring like a mother fucking buzz saw.
Your wide, dry eyes stared up at the ceiling as the loud rumbles filled the room. Dean had come a long way - with your help - and no longer had nightly episodes or memories of hell. Of course, they still happened on occasion, but they were a rare occurrence now.  The hunter often found himself sleeping soundly through most nights, including this one.
He was the only one who would, it seemed, as you tossed and turned, doing your best to tune out the irritating sound. You put earplugs in, then headphones playing music, then even tracks of white noise.  A forest, a stream, the ocean each one louder than the last.  They all usually knocked you right out on a hunt.
But Dean snored over all of them.
You did your best to ignore it, you really did, but when he rolled over onto his back and started with a newfound volume, you’d decided you’d had enough.
“Dee.”  You say lowly, hoping that he’ll sleep through the disturbance, but that his subconscious will hear his name and disturb his sleep just enough that he’ll shut the hell up.
The resounding snort proves that theory wrong.
“Dee!”  You snap, louder now.  Nothing.  “Dean!”
A few moments pass…
Nothing…
Maybe it worked!  Maybe-
Yeah, no,  there he goes again.
Groaning loudly, you sit up and reach for your phone.  Fine, if his hard-sleeping-ass can sleep through all that, then he could sleep with the light from your phone filling the room as well.
You open your favorite app, the blue screen greeting your tired eyes.  Switching over from the homepage feed, you type ‘Dean x reader’ into the app’s search bar and your screen is immediately flooded with fic after fic.  Pursing your lips, you decide to narrow your search.  It doesn’t seem like you’ll be falling asleep any time soon, so what would the harm be?  You let your thumbs fly over the screen’s keyboard.
Dean x reader smut.
Happy with your amendment, you hit ‘search’ once more and decide to take a walk on the wild side.
Immediately, your screen is flooded with sin and you bite back a smile.  With your screen’s light as low as it’ll go, you click on the first story and settle into a comfortable position, facing away from Dean and the window as you immerse yourself in the fic.
You’ve probably been reading for about an hour or so when your bladder decides it’s time for you to get up.  Sighing quietly, you leave your phone on your pillow, creeping through the silent room.  As soon as you’ve taken care of business and washed up, you tiptoe back to bed.  As you all but fall into the sheets, feeling like you can finally sleep, you realize your phone is not where you left it.
Hell, it’s not even in the bed.
Sitting up in fright, your eyes dart across the room and the sleeping man in the bed opposite yours.  When you see the dimly glowing screen on the bedside table, you sigh in relief, telling yourself that your sleep-deprived brain probably just didn’t register you putting it away.  Locking the screen with sleepy eyes, you drift off to sleep with visions of Dean trailing kisses down your neck flitting behind your eyes.
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The morning comes much too quickly for your taste, but you push yourself out of bed to face the day ahead.
You grab your bag quickly, packing up all your belongings as you and Dean prepare for your hunt.  He’s uncharacteristically quiet this morning, barely meeting your eyes as you two embark from the motel room.  Shrugging it off, you follow behind him and before you know it, the two of you are standing before the doors to a known haunted office building.  It’s far too early for anyone to be there, so breaking in is easier than you’d expected and the two of you don’t run into any trouble as you make your way to the top floor.
Once there, you put your plan into motion, Dean taking a defensive position as you sneak into the manager’s office.  You find the haunted artifact like you’ve done a million times before, and you note the sudden shift in the air once you touch it.  It’s almost too quiet as you do your work, but by the way Dean hasn’t even flinched in his spot is a good indicator that things are - miraculously - still going as planned.
Finally, your work is done - the artifact turned to ash and the ghost successfully placated.
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You don’t allow yourself to breathe until you and Dean walk into yet another motel, this one only a few towns over from your rendezvous point with Sam.  You’d spend the night here before making the remainder of the journey in the morning.  Exhaustion hits you like a freight train as you trudge to the room, and you find yourself hoping against hope once more that your favorite fics may come to life.  But when your eyes fall on two beds once more those hopes are dashed.
“You can take the king,”  Dean says, and you suddenly realize those are the first words he’s spoken to you all day aside from the business of the break-in earlier.  There hadn’t even been one famous Dean innuendo all day.  “I’ll take the queen.”
You raise your eyebrow at that but don’t argue, even though you know damn well that the man who is almost twice your size probably needs the larger bed more than you do.
No more words are passed between the two of you as you prepare for bed, each taking their turn in the bathroom and shower before turning the lights out and settling down to sleep.  It doesn’t take long for sleep to tickle at your eyelids, but it’s chased away almost instantly when Dean’s buzz saw snores kick to life again.
Groaning quietly, you toss a pillow at the human-grizzly bear before rolling over to grab your phone and headphones from the bedside table.  He continues, of course, and you go to your favorite app once more.  Using your phone this late at night and right before you sleep is bad, you know, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with that man rumbling only several feet from you.
You open a new fanfic, this one’s warnings staring you down as you read “smut, language, NSFW gifs” and you can’t fight back the smirk that plays on your lips.  Again, you roll onto your side, back towards Dean, as you get to reading.
You know your breathing has picked up pace as you get past the fic’s casual banter between friends and the sexual tension sets in.  Your legs squeeze together of their own accord, your chest warming in arousal as you envision Dean speaking to you the way he’s speaking to Y/N in this fic.
Within a few minutes - and a few lines - the sexual tension explodes into a full-on kiss, the smut slowly building as a result.  You scroll quickly, devouring every detail before your fingers slow as the top of a gif comes into view.  It’s sinful, to say the least.  You watch the way the man’s hips swivel into his lover’s, her head thrown back as he buries his head against her throat and himself deep into her.
Your lip is back between your teeth and you can’t bring yourself to scroll on just yet.  Instead, you let yourself take every detail in as the image loops, again and again, your arousal growing with every second.  Oh, what you wouldn’t give to have Dean moving against you that way.  His heavy breath fanning over your collarbone as he grinds against your most sensitive skin.  You have to bite your tongue so as to not moan into the silent room.
Wait…
Silent.
You realize at that moment that the violent snores from the other side of the room have died completely, silence overtaking their absence.  A silence that has you tentatively glancing over your shoulder and only to immediately regret it.
Even in the dark, your eyes find the hazel ones that are only inches away.  Hazel eyes that are damn near swallowed with lust.
Oh.  
Oh, Jesus.
“Whatcha lookin’ at, Kiddo?”  His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room, sending your heart galloping as you jump up to sitting, desperately burying your phone against your breast in an effort to hide its contents from him.
“Nothing.”  You say, your voice scarcely above a whisper.  You don’t miss the smirk on his face and frantically reevaluate the past several minutes in your brain.  When had he woken up?  When had he snuck up behind you?  How much had he read over your shoulder?
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”  He says, teeth dragging over his lower lip and it seems for a moment that he’s debating on whether or not he wants to take this any further.  When he speaks again though, he makes his choice very clear.  “Looks like you’re being a very bad girl.”
The room is so fucking quiet that the lump that you gulp down is painfully audible.
He didn’t just say that…did he?  You chuckle humorlessly, trying desperately to break the obvious tension and play off of the joke he is so obviously playing on you.  Dean makes comments like that all the time.  That’s just how he is with you!  Any moment now he’ll chuckle like he always does.
But then he doesn’t laugh with you.  Just stares as he scoots closer on his knees until his frame is right against the bed, pulling you by your thighs until he’s encasing you - palms on either side of your legs that are now thrown over the side of the bed.
You’reDreamingYou’reDreamingYou’reDreaming…
“That…that was too far, wasn’t it?”  He suddenly asks, rocking his weight back on his heels.  Bless him, he looks so uncharacteristically shy and you must look completely dumbfounded.  He waits with bated breath as you open and close your mouth uselessly, desperately searching for words.
Finally, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Did you just quote the fanfiction I read last night?”  OH MY GOD, you mentally scream.  Why the fuck would you expose yourself like that?? What if he just thought of that himself??
But then what if he didn’t?  Because that line had definitely stuck out to you when reading the night before…and suddenly, you remember why it had.  That was the last line before you left your phone to go to the bathroom.  The last line you’d read with tired eyes before you set your phone down, unlocked, on your pillow and - ohmygod!
“You read that!?”  You screech, gripping your phone tighter.  You gasp so hard you damn near swallow your tongue.  “You put my phone on the bedside table! Dean, you totally snooped while I was peeing!”  Alright, you could’ve kept that bit to yourself.
He’s biting that damn lip again, and you know he can tell that’s exactly where your eyes are zeroed in on.
“Maybe?”  He says, voice small as he admits his secret to you.  “I didn’t mean to!  I just…I woke up when you shut the bathroom door, and the screen was shining right in my face - I just-I got up to lock it so it wouldn’t bother me, but then I saw what you were looking at and…”  He clears his throat.  “Y/N, I…were you reading porn…about me?”
Your face is no doubt a thousand degrees of embarrassment.
“It’s not porn!! It’s fanfiction, and-”
“It literally talks about me fucking you.”  He deadpans, eyebrows raised.  “In explicit detail.  It’s porn.”
You’re silent for a few moments, staring him down as you wait for him to back down.
Of course, he doesn’t.
“Ok, fine!  It’s porn, are you happy?”  You huff, crossing your arms and finally ditching your phone to the pillow beside you.  A sudden terrifying thought causes you to freeze. “So…are you going to tell Sam?”
“Why the fuck would I tell him?!”
“I don’t know!”
“Do you honestly think I’d tell him something so personal?!”
“I don’t know!”  You repeat, floundering as you toss your hands up before crossing them again in a pout.  “It’s embarrassing.  You know I tend to jump to the worst-case scenarios…”
“Y/N, I would never out you like that.”  You would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes drag over you in your nightclothes, and you are suddenly very aware of your lack of bra and just how cold it is in the room.
He seems to notice too, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts and the way your nipples are pressing against the soft fabric encasing them.
“Do you…do you want me like that?”  He asks, his voice dropping back into the husky tone it had been before his awkward detour.
“No, Dee, I was just reading porn of you for the fuck of it.”  He chuckles at that, his palms coming to rest on your thighs as the embarrassment between you two eases - making way for a choking tension.
“Really?  Ah, well, then I guess I can just go back to bed, then.”
“Don’tyoudare!”  The words are out before you can stop them, but at this point, you don’t much care.
“Oh?  Then what should I do?”  His hazel eyes are dark, gazing at you from below thick lashes as his hands creep higher up your thighs, pushing your oversized t-shirt up to expose the soft cotton covering you from his gaze.  “Should I do this?”
Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as he leans forward, lips pressing against the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.
“Oh, please.”  You beg, arms falling at your sides to support you as his mouth grows closer to where you really want him.  Only he doesn’t quite reach, his eyes twinkling playfully at you.
“Words, Y/N.”  He grumbles lowly, splayed hands pushing your legs wider to give himself better access to your heat.
“Dean, please-”  A squeal escapes you when his teeth drag across your hip bone.  “Put your mouth on me.”
Nothing you’ve ever read could’ve prepared you for the way Dean touches you.
He moves slowly, his palms running from your inner thighs to behind your knees to pull your legs over his shoulders.  The movement has your stomach flipping, eyes never leaving his as he drags his tongue up the material hiding your core from him.
He chuckles at your moan, eyes batting as he presses the point of his tongue against your clit beneath your panties.  To be honest, you’re not sure which one of you is enjoying this more what with the way his fingers tighten against your legs, his eyes closing in concentration as he laps at you.
In your wildest dreams, you never thought Dean would be touching you like this - at least not outside of the fiction you were reading.  But, oh, is he touching you - playing you, more like it, plucking your strings until you’re practically singing for him.
You could cum just like this, light pets of his tongue teasing your sensitive skin, but then he’s tugging the panties from your form, diving right back into your bare skin and you’re keening at the contact, your fingers knotting in his long hair.  He groans in response to your moans, forearm flung lazily across your hips to keep you still as he wreaks havoc on you.
You open your mouth, ready to chastise him but the words instantly make way for cries as he finally swipes his tongue through your folds - fucking you with his mouth as he watches your form writhe.
“God, you taste amazing.”  He moans, and you have to hold back a giggle.  “What’s so funny?”  Do you admit that you’d read him saying those very words far too many times to keep count?
But then he’s pulling away, leaving you whimpering at the precipice of release and the sight of his strong torso being revealed to your ends any thoughts you may have had.  Especially when he reaches down and rids you of your own shirt, kissing across your collar bones once they’re exposed.
“You got any protection?”  He asks suddenly, teeth scraping at your throat and you are suddenly aware of the fact that this is real life, not a fic, and wow you’d lost count of how many bareback smuts you’d read.
Not that the thought of Dean cumming inside you wasn’t the hottest thing ever, but the idea of pregnancy was something you didn’t even want to entertain at the moment.
So, begrudgingly, you pushed him off gently, bending down to rifle through your bag - hey, it never hurts to be prepared.  You roll your eyes at his chuckle as you bend over, shaking your exposed backside at him - where he has taken your seat on the mattress - before rising to hand him the small, metallic square.
He toys with it for a few seconds, watching as you stand with a lip tugged gently between your teeth and your eyes flicker to the semi-hard shaft against his thighs. Long fingers enter your line of sight, coming to cup himself, stroking a few times as you watch him.
“See something you like, baby?”  He asks, free hand coming up to run his thumb against your lips.  You nod slowly, shivering at the new pet name, eyes never tearing from where he teases his cock.  You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, Dean’s thumb accidentally catching where it had been against your lips and then he’s growling and pulling you to him.
Your lips crash together, a flash of pain as your teeth clack momentarily, but you’re far too lost in Dean’s intoxicating proximity to care.  He seems to share the sentiment as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer as he moans and strokes himself faster before you straddle his strong thighs.
You consider grinding down against the taut muscle momentarily, but then Dean’s rolling the condom down his shaft, his knuckles brushing your folds as he does and all you want is for him to fill you up to the brim.
The desperation is clear on your face, wrapped in hooded eyes and a deep flush as you inhale deeply every time Dean’s knuckles brush you.
“Oh, my god!”  You huff, getting ever so impatient.  He chuckles at your tone, tugging you higher on his lap so that - finally - you’re aligned.  A brief moment passes as you two eye each other hesitantly, your nerves on fire as you consider what it is you’re about to do.  
You’re about to fuck one of your partners, one of your best friends…the man you’ve been fantasizing about for years.
“Ready?”  He asks softly, testing the waters as he runs the head of his cock through your lips.  Any hesitation you may have had melts with the shiver that travels your spine, and then some when Dean growls as you bare your nails into his shoulder blades.
“Dean, I swear to god, if you don’t fu-ck me!”  You squeal the tail end of your sentence, Dean’s own groan disappearing into the skin of your shoulder as he slides home.  Pain and pleasure flood your senses and suddenly you are highly aware of just how long it’s been.
“Shiiit,” Dean sighs at the tight fit, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and holding you still as he struggles to hold himself off.
It’s been a while for him, too.
“Jesus, you’re tight.”  He hisses between his teeth, his brow as scrunched as yours no doubt is at the moment.
“And you’re huge.”  He laughs then, the movement of his abs against your sensitive skin enough to have you sighing.  “I, uh, think you’re good to move.”  You say quietly, testing this theory with a slight brush forward of your hips.  When delicious friction reaches your clit at the action you moan lowly.  “Oh, yeah.  Very good to move.”
And move he does, giving you a few moments as he slowly builds up the pace before falling back and letting you take the reigns.  Your hands find his strong pecs as you fall forward at the sudden shift, and a shit-eating grin crosses your face.  Dean misses this, however, as his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure.
“Fuck!”  He groans when you begin to rut against him, dragging your clit against his adonis belt as his cock head catches against your insides perfectly.  He doesn’t seem to mind this change, panting openly and quite vocally.  Well, that is until his hands find your thighs and hold on tight.  “Shit, slow down, baby…I don’t know how long I can last if you keep that up.”
You’re about to apologize, a flush very evident on your skin before Dean is manhandling you onto your back, your legs cast wide in his grasp.
“Let’s slow things down a little.”  He teases, kissing your nose as you giggle and let him set the pace.
When he does, it’s dizzyingly slow, his teeth dragging against your skin as do his fingertips and after a few minutes of sinfully slow rocks of his hips, he is very quickly stringing you towards the edge.
“Dean,”  You whimper, your walls beginning to flutter around him.  The groan that milks from his chest is nothing short of sexy and you return one of your own.  His name becomes a chant on your lips as pleasure rushes through your bloodstream, your nails digging into his taut back and after a few more thrusts of his own, he’s emptying inside the condom.
The high fades slowly, your skin buzzing in sated pleasure as a lazy smile takes place on your face.  Dean is quiet, almost shy as he retreats to the restroom to clean himself and dispose of the condom.  You snicker quietly to yourself at the thought that this detail is often left out of the fics you read, but the pleasant ache between your legs certainly isn’t.
“Well,”  He says as he returns, slipping under the covers with you.  As you shift, something digs into your side and when you bring the offending object above the covers do you realize that your phone had remained in the sheets that whole time.  You hand it off to him as he tugs you closer, waving him to put it on the bedside table.  “Aren’t you glad I decided to snoop?”  He teases as he takes the contraption from you.
“Yeah, Yeah, Dee.  But not as glad as I am that we can save on rooms by just booking us one bed from now on!”
You both chuckle at the jest, your giggles soon dying into labored breathing as your energy drains quickly against the warmth of Dean’s body wrapped around yours.  Your eyes drift shut of their own accord, not noticing how Dean hesitates at placing your phone on the charger…again.
“Hey, baby?”  He asks hesitantly, his eyes widening as he scrolls through your Tumblr feed and exposed to all sorts of sin.
“Hmm?”  You hum, sleep tickling at your mind.   That is until your eyes fly open wide at his following question.
“What’s Destiel?”
FIN
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fuumoksun · 15 days
Text
"To the dephts of your heart"
♡ content / warning : jealousy
♡ part of my "To the dephts of your heart" [fanfiction drafts]
♡ Interactive fanfiction : poll at the end
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As a representative from the Akademya working on negotiations between the nations of Fontaine and Sumeru, flirting with the Duke of the Meropide Forteress had been a thrilling distraction. The playful banter provided a much-needed break from the weight of your shared duties until a certain Scribe confessed his feelings for you...
"I understand if you need some space to think things through. Even though I tend to be persistent, I'll always respect your decision, no matter what it is."
Al Haitham's words left you in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Surprise mingled with disbelief as you processed the unexpected turn of events. After years of working around him you knew how cautious he was and he certainly didn't take the maters of love lightly.
Al Haitham had earned your utmost respect, particularly after the Sumeru crisis. The Scribe had left a lasting impact on you, and considering he had visited your dreams more than once, you couldn't deny that you cared about him.
On the other hand, within a few months, Wriothesley had managed to burrow deep into your thoughts, his presence becoming a constant, compelling force within your mind.
"Is this love... or?" You didn't knew what word to put on it anymore.
[...]
Love triangles are just a bunch of book fantasies... Or so you tried to convince yourself as you found yourself seated at a fancy terrace in Fontaine. On your left sat AlHaitham, while Wriothesley occupied the spot on your right.
The arrival of the waiter, bearing your coffee, offered a brief respite from the discomfort. Grateful for the interruption, you thanked him quietly.
The tension in the air was palpable. As the awkward silence stretched on, you couldn't help but mutter to yourself,
"No way... This can't be happening."
"Sugar, honney?" The Duke's voice was almost a whisper, catching you off guard.
"W-what?" You blinked, unsure of what he was getting at, your eyes catching a flicker of a frown on Al Haitham's face.
"Do you..."the Duke asked again, "... prefer sugar or honey in your coffee today?" he punctuated his question with a charming smile, leaning towards you to open the porcelain sugar holder.
Realization dawned, and you flushed with embarrassment, desperately wishing for the traveler to come back so you'd be out of this torture.
"Oh, uh... yeah. S-sugar is fine," you mumbled, turning your face away, as his knee brushed yours under the table. Usually you wouldn't mind his playful gestures and you couldn't blame him for acting like he always had around you, since he didn't know about last night's confession.
Al Haitham glanced up from his book, his gaze cool and collected. "I'm afraid, I have nothing interesting to share right now."
A moment passed before, Al Haitham pulled a book from his pocket, making it abundantly clear that he had no intention of engaging in conversation with either of you.
Wriothesley's eyes shifted back and forth between you and the tall man behind the book, a silent challenge brewing in the air.
He couldn't resist the opportunity to provoke a reaction just to make sure his intuition was right. "Ah, retreating into literature again ? I was looking forward to have some time with you... both."
A smirk tugged at Wriothesley's lips as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Really? Then tell me more about yourself... I must admit, I'm quite curious since Y/n speaks so highly of you... "
Al Haitham turned a page not sparring his rival a glance, "Well that will give you something to investigate about during your free time." His eyes locked into mine for a second, "It seems you have plenty after all."
"Nevermind then. Digging into peoples lives for personnal interrest is not really my thing..."
If you had any doubts about how much Al Haitham knew about your flirtations with the Duke, they vanished in that moment. It was clear he confessed even thought he knew you spent the last nights at the Forteress.
Accross the table, Wriothesley had the answer he wanted. He sipped his tea, with a bitter sweet satisfaction, retreating into his own thoughts.
You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, a feeling of guilt bubbling in your stomach.
[...]
"Al Haitham! Wriothesley! Y/n! We're back!" Paimon's voice reverberated, dispelling your cloud of negative thoughts.
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Without another word exchanged the three of you parted ways returning to your duties for the rest of the day.
It was now, you against your thoughts and what seemed to be an impossible decision...
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2024 © fuumoksun Do not, copy , translate, plagiarize or post on other plateforms. Thank you.
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the-owl-house-takes · 7 months
Note
I absolutely hate the argument that Luz can be excused for her actions and people have no right to dislike her just because she’s neurodivergent. I struggled immensely in school both academically and socially in large to my own “neurodivergence”-can I just say I hate that word-but I was never so stupid as to think about bringing live animals and fireworks inside my school. The fact that Luz, the 14-year-old daughter of a veterinarian, saw a bunch of living, breathing animals and thought-‘yeah, I’m gonna use those as props! My book report is gonna be so cool! I surely can’t just use rubber snakes!’ Which probably why they were so damn aggressive! Because snakes only really bite and attack when they’re threatened, or stressed, or pissed off! Which really does not paint Luz as being a very caring or thoughtful person!
“But that’s the point! She needs to get better and she does!”-No she absolutely fucking does not. Instead of realizing that she can’t just run away and live in fantasy-land, the show again and again reaffirms that Luz can do no wrong, everybody else never should’ve felt angry about her reckless idiocy-because that’s what it is, idiocy-she gets to live out her little fantasy world and do whatever she wants. The way the show acts like the principal giving the summer camp pamphlet was some horrible evil thing, how could anyone do that? B I T CH LUZ IS FUCKING LUCKY that she weren’t expelled or arrested! She brought EXPLOSIVES WITH THE INTENT OF SETTING THEM OFF INSIDE A SCHOOL BUILDING. In an area of mass shoring fears and schools prohibiting anything can looks like or emulates(even if it is just a foam sword or something), Luz really should’ve just taken two seconds to think to at least leave the fireworks. Course at 14 I would think that a person who have the common sense for that to never be a thought.
And no, “neurodivergence” is not an excuse. It pains me when characters in media doing stupid shit and senseless(especially when it gets on the audience’s nerves) gets pinned on having autism or ADHD like it makes it okay, and that the character can’t be blamed or held accountable for it. Why do people hold those with these conditions to such low standards? When this happens, it feels like people are saying, “Yeah, this could’ve easily caused grievous bodily harm or death but they’ve got anxiety and autism, so we can’t be mad, they couldn’t possibly know better because they’re simply not on our level, they’re too stupid to understand!” Hell no. Stop giving excuses! The “I’m literally neurodivergent and a minor” attitude does not work in court!
And maybe if they understood this and actually challenged Luz on being very episodic on learning her lessons and that she did in fact run away to avoid consequences of her actions and reality won’t bend to her interests and she can’t treat everything like it’s a fanfiction instead of beating the dead horse with another dead horse about how Luz ““““helped”””” Belos when all she did was teach him one glyph and got used as bait by someone who she KNOWS tricked her. By that logic Lilith is just as responsible for Belos meeting the Collector as Luz is. Yeah she’s 14 but did it really have to stretch through the entirety of season 3?
Because season 3 is where I officially knew that Luz hadn’t learned a thing. The way the show frames the art teacher giving Luz the side eye like it’s wrong for her to distrust the kid who used the art supplies-that she probably paid out of pocket for-to infest the school with spiders and snakes and then would’ve blown it up if she hadn’t gotten sent to the principal’s office is so out of pocket. She has every right to view Luz with suspicion! People don’t tend to like others who make a mess in their areas with their stuff, shocker. I’ve already said a bit about the summer camp thing, but seriously, a summer camp that teaches teens about mortgages, how to manage a bank account and checkbook, do taxes, etc is literally the best thing Luz could’ve gotten out of that situation. She would’ve learned something many people complain wasn’t taught to them at a young age AND would’ve met people who she could easily befriended. Yeah, it’s boring and Luz probably would’ve checked out of the situation but it’s better than juvie! Also boring stuff is apart of life, it’s part of the way we can live the way we do because everything is easier said than done. Also with Camila, it’s a dumb retcon to have her not understand anime or Luz’s interests in Season 1 and 2 but a secret nerd who just got put down by the man in season 3. Like, Camila had to make a change with Luz, because 14 is not far from 18, and if Luz did do something stupid that ended up being a crime, she could very well be charged as an adult.
Then the whole ‘I just wanna be understood!’ Luz, honey, you’ve been surrounded by people who understand you and don’t get mad when you mess up, even if it’s spectacularly. Your girlfriend literally immediately told you she essentially wanted to spend the rest of her life by your side right after you got revealed as a liar which you promised you wouldn’t do anymore. Your best buds have always been on your side even when you’ve gone behind their backs. Your mom was sending you to that camp bc she had too, even though she originally believed it would expose you to kids with similar interests that could be befriended. And again, her hands were tied, because you were being reckless to the point of danger. But oh wait, it’s all okay now because you’re ‘understood’.
Not finding that happy balance where you can express yourself but not act like an idiot or endanger yourself and others, just some vague ‘understanding’ by an anonymous ‘them’. Do you mean everyone, all the time has to understand you the way Camila, Eda, King, Willow, Gus, Amity and Hunter do? Because that’s not how real life works.
And this isn’t a character hate-though I do hate the way Luz was finished-this is on the writers for not going through with the themes of Fantasy Vs. Reality they had going that could’ve taught Luz that balance and management; which in my personal opinion, would’ve been a better arc for a person with ADHD.
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comradekatara · 2 months
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for tbe atla people who has had in-universe fanfiction written about them (along the lines of tina belcher who came from bobs burger belcher)
your asks are always so strange (both in content and wording) that I end up having to read them like 5 times before I can begin to parse them. anyway I love that you cite tina belcher instead of just. rpf. like the literal terminology for this phenomenon that we do very much have at our disposals. so I even can’t tell if you’re asking “who would have rpf written about them” (which also presumably differs from historical fiction about past avatars or smth like that) and “who would write freaky friend fiction (like tina)?” i’m gonna go with the latter bc it’s way funnier.
i think that girl meng would definitely have written some….things…..about aang, iykwim. zombie apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, there was only one bed, etc etc.
i can also just kind of see jin doing this (abt lee from the tea shop or otherwise) i can’t explain it she just has fujoshi vibes. like, whenever ppl talk about how jin, zuko, and jet should have all been friends in ba sing se, i’m usually like “uhh… why tho….” but now i see why. it’s so that she could write jetko rpf about them.
for therapeutic purposes mai probably writes a lot of really cathartic short stories about her entire family, the entire royal family, and ty lee all falling into a sinkhole. but then mai saves ty lee from drowning at the last minute, which teaches ty lee to appreciate her instead of that stupid sinkhole bitch azula (this is all pre boiling rock, obviously).
at one point mai and sokka find a notebook of really angsty fanfiction about the blue spirit and they’re like, “oh my god this is amazing we gotta show this to zuko, he’ll get a kick out of this,” not realizing that zuko actually wrote it himself as a way to work through his identity crisis. he’s just like, “yeah….wow….so cringey, right? but also, kind of incredible how this writer articulates the struggle of the bisected self in extremis so beautifully……right? you guys think so too?” and sokka and mai just look at each other and silently go, “okay…. we may have made a mistake…..”
when katara was a child she would make up stories in her head about finding the avatar and befriending him and having him fall in love with her due to her courage and beauty and (hopefully, someday) waterbending talent and they would defeat the firelord together and live happily ever after. but thankfully she never wrote any of this down, because paper is a very scarce commodity in the southern water tribe and even she knows better than to invoke gran gran’s wrath on that. she never tells aang. although at some point (in sworn secrecy) she does end up telling zuko (assuming that he’d understand considering he also devised fantasies of finding the avatar to cope with his miserable existence), and he laughs for hours.
during their time together in the nwt, yue’s diary gets filled with all kinds of lurid fantasies of sokka killing hahn (in increasingly brutal ways) and sneaking her out of the palace so that she can join team avatar and they can be together forever. of course, whenever they talk about it, she’s just like “yes I love hahn he is great and I love my people and I would never leave my home” so sokka’s just like “okay girl you do you.” but then during the siege, yue actually sees sokka kill a man, and she’s suddenly so conflicted because all her self-indulgent fantasies were a bit too real (and in reality, he’s way more efficient about killing people than he was in her fantasies, almost like he’s done it before….) and she has no clue how to feel about it. anyway, thankfully, yue has learned how to hide her diary really well at this point, because if arnook ever found those particular pages he would’ve tracked down sokka and killed him without hesitation.
ok bonus follow up to the fujoshi jin writing jetko rpf au: eventually they find it (or maybe she’s bold enough to just straight up give it to them. you know what, she might be) and read it. jet’s like, “uhhh…. jin….. i’m not gay. you know that, right?” (he’s actually been hitting on her for… a while now…) and zuko’s like, “okay well i might be. BUT NOT FOR HIM!!!”
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olderthannetfic · 8 months
Note
I have a question. I’m new to the discourse around fanfiction & censorship, so I was curious about what the general consensus regarding fic about underaged characters in live action media was. Underage is my biggest squick, but I feel pretty neutral about how people write/draw smut of cartoon characters, as they barely register as human for me. Characters played by actual child actors though… I guess I’m just wondering what’s going through the heads of people who write that stuff? Or minor rpf for that matter. What is appealing about it? I’m willing suspend my disbelief & accept that they don’t actually want to abuse kids, but like, what is fulfilling about that fantasy? I’m not in favor of censorship or arresting anyone over a fictional story, but I just can’t wrap my head around it.
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That's quite a failure of imagination there, anon.
Other people are not you, and they don't necessarily have this squick. That's the main answer.
From people who don't try to problematize this, there isn't really any discourse. Fiction is fiction.
Cartoon characters register as people to plenty of viewers. (And moron antis think cartoon characters count just as much as live action ones when it comes to screaming about problematicness.) Actors playing teenagers are often in their 20s. Coming of age novels dealing with sexuality have been normal all over the world since forever.
--
But let's start with some low hanging fruit:
If you're 17 years + 364 days, you're below the age of consent lots of places. Do you, anon, honestly think it's weird to be into someone one day before their 18th birthday but not the day after? What if you live somewhere where the age of consent is 16? Is it still weird to be into 17-year-olds from places where the age of consent is 18?
Most people remember being teenagers. They may feel nostalgic. They may want to imagine the nice teenage experiences they never got to have.
Lots of fic writers are currently teenagers. Not as many as ageist online spaces think, but still quite a lot. Is it weirder for a 15-year-old to have a crush on a 15-year-old than a 40-year-old?
"They looked 18, Your Honor" is a weak-ass excuse for fucking underage people in real life, but that's not the same as finding characters on your tv hot. Not only are the actors usually above 18 because filming underage actors is a fucking nightmare logistically due to work constraints, but a lot of younger actors are often made up in ways that make them look like they could be way older. People also vary widely in how they look at various ages.
If you can accept that lust exists and is valid, you can accept that lots of people will see some teen and think they're hot. There isn't some specific categorical difference in how all teenagers look and how all 20-somethings look.
Doing something about it in real life and doing something about it in fiction are different.
--
Now, as for "child actors", that term is used for a wide variety of ages, but let's assume you mean Stranger Things wank, like most people moaning about underage actor RPF do, so we're talking about tweens who genuinely do look pretty young to grown-ass adults.
The first thing I have to ask you is why the fuck you would imagine that writers identify with some adult fucking these kids? It's far, far more likely that they identify with the characters themselves or the actors.
Why would they identify with them? It could be anything from working through their own trauma at a similar age to just liking the vibe of a character because of how the show is written.
Lots of people's brains barf out dark scenarios 24/7 without them ever having experienced any major trauma and without it meaning anything much. Some people channel that into fiction.
If you are a boring person who has both a vanilla brain and no imagination, this might seem surprising to you, but it shouldn't.
--
Moreover, your ask implies that underage fic is highly sexual or maybe coercive or something, but you haven't actually stated that. Are we talking about rapefic of 5-year-olds or about someone writing the Stranger Things characters holding hands?
Are you just not sexual at all, anon? Personally, I went from zero to MEGA HORNY at thirteen and a half. It was like a switch flipped. Sure, I wasn't getting any action because I was a zit-covered and socially incompetent 13-year-old, but I was definitely interested.
It's not strange that an artist or author of whatever sort would explore puberty in their art. It's not strange that they'd remember their own sexual awakening or that this awakening would be long before age 18.
It's also not strange if people write super dark shit about small children because it being extreme and taboo and horrible is often the point of art.
--
You're "willing to suspend disbelief"? How magnanimous! How generous!
Seriously, anon?!
The way you've phrased this question makes it sound like you have a brain the size of a walnut.
Would you ask such a stupid question in such an offensively loaded manner about all the coming of age novels that are considered Great Literature™? Would you ask why YA exists?
And if you wouldn't, why is it that amateur writing by women and sexual minorities makes you nervous when mainstream-approved things don't?
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thelordofgifs · 9 months
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Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Round 4
A fox passing through the woods on business of his own vs Eldacar of Gondor
A fox passing through the woods on business of his own:
A fox who found Frodo, Sam and Pippin asleep under a tree and was puzzled by this.
Yeah sure why NOT switch PoV to a (arguably) non-sentient creature for like a paragraph with no bearing on the actual plot besides the comment that it never realized that the plot was happening??
It shows up for one page for no reason.  It's great.
Listen, that fox is absolutely a borbo. Confused? Funny? Has enough to be memorable but little enough to write a shitload of fanfiction about? Someone I have actually written about? Twice? (they aren't on ao3 though) clear boorbo
Look, people have observed before, correctly, that one of the things that sets The Lord of the Rings apart is that Tolkien will tell us things about the well-being of minor characters, like that the hobbits’ ponies that they lost in Bree were okay and went to live with Tom Bombadil. Tolkien is the kind of writer who will switch the POV to a fox who happens to pass by the hobbits on the first night of their journey to Rivendell, because the story isn’t just about the main characters, nor is it just about the endurance of realms like Rohan and Gondor. It’s about every living thing in Middle-earth, and for Frodo it’s especially about the Shire, the home of simplicity and good food and community and gardens and foxes. That’s what he takes up the Ring to save, and the fact that he takes it up with that motivation, not personal greatness or heroism, is what enables him to get as far as Mount Doom. Gandalf lays this idea out to Denethor when Denethor claims the fate of Gondor as a goal above all else: “For my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in days to come.” The Quest of the Ring is not simply about Men and Elves and Hobbits; it is about ponies, and the trees of Fangorn, and tiny sun-star flowers in the grass, and yes, a fox on business of his own who never finds out anything more about the three hobbits he once saw sleeping under a tree, but lives and thrives because of what they did.
Eldacar of Gondor:
The twenty-first King of Gondor, also known as Vinitharya. During his reign the conflict known as the Kin-strife occurred and he was forced from his throne for ten years.
The blorbo of all time actually. He’s the protagonist of one of the most interesting stories in the LoTR appendices, the Kin-strife, and everything about his life story is so fascinating! His father was the crown prince of Gondor and his mother was the princess of Rhovanion so not a Númenorean. As a result all the racist nobles of Gondor made noises about how Eldacar was of “lesser race” and wouldn’t live as long as a “true Dúnadan”. One of the most fascinating examples of fantasy racism in Tolkien’s works imo – the bigotry is awful but the bigots have a shield to hide behind! Obviously their concerns are actually valid because they just don’t want their king to die young! (Their concerns aren’t valid. But I think the worldbuilding here is great.) Anyway Eldacar was born in Rhovanion and given the birth-name Vinitharya, but when he returned to Gondor aged five he was obliged to take up the Quenya name Eldacar, presumably to pacify all the racists in Gondor. He’s the EMBODIMENT of mixed-race/immigrant child trauma my beloved. Eventually his father died and he ascended to the throne of Gondor, but then his shitty second cousin Castamir (all my homies hate Castamir he’s the worst) started the civil war known as the Kin-strife and usurped Eldacar’s throne. Eldacar was forced to flee north to Rhovanion but Castamir captured his eldest son Ornendil and had him cruelly put to death which is SO SAD. But Eldacar, being brave and resourceful and clever and extremely cool, put together an alliance with his mother’s kinsfolk in Rhovanion and after ten years reclaimed his throne, which turned out to be slightly easier than expected because Castamir was The Worst and all his subjects hated him. And Eldacar PERSONALLY fought and killed Castamir HIMSELF and AVENGED HIS SON which is extremely important when you consider all the cringefail elves in the legendarium whose quests for revenge didn’t really go anywhere at all. Then he lived to be 235 proving that all the idiot racists who were worried about his lifespan didn’t have any idea what they were talking about, as is par for the course with racists. Also the Kin-strife itself has such far-reaching consequences for the history of Gondor! The Corsairs of Umbar, Gondor’s long-standing enemies, are actually followers of the descendants of Castamir. And during the Usurpation of Castamir Osgiliath was sacked and burned, leading to the beginning of its decline as Gondor’s greatest city. Even though Eldacar’s story is, to me, ultimately hopeful, it’s also such a fascinating turning point in the history of Gondor. Also ALSO he’s explicitly surrounded by textual ghosts which is really fascinating. His father Valacar has “children” plural – so Eldacar had siblings!! What were they like? How did they react to it all? And his son Aldamir is described as Eldacar’s second son and third child, meaning that he had a daughter too. Who was she?? What happened to her? He’s such a blorbo and there’s so much interesting stuff to dig into around him and he has to win this entire tournament please please please❤️
Round 4 masterpost
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theladyofdeath · 5 months
Text
Lady Death's Lover {10}
Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary
19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous
A/N: NSFW (actually, just make the same note for the next few chapters)... Thank you for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting. I love to see it all! x
TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse
This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.
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<.>.<.> Nesta <.>.<.>
His kiss was like nothing I have ever experienced.
I lie alone in my bed, wishing he was here with me. I long for his mouth on mine, long for that mouth of his to explore every inch of the bare skin that is rolling beneath my sheets, lonely with need. 
He confessed his love for me. All of my being wanted to reciprocate the feeling, but I just couldn’t. Yet I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him. I know it was wrong but I have no regrets. If I am to be bound to Tomas for the rest of my life, I am glad that I felt what it was like to be completely in love, completely enveloped in a kiss if only for a second.
It is a second I will never forget, a second I will never take for granted. 
His lips were softer than I had imagined they would be. It was a pleasant surprise, the gentleness of this man that did not radiate gentleness whatsoever. He held me as if our lives depended on it, and for a moment, I swore they did. 
The house is quiet; there’s nothing but the cackling of the fire to distract me. Even the cackling cannot distract me enough from imagining his roaming hands. 
Unable to fall asleep, I let my mind wander. 
I imagine him in bed right next to me, his body bare and intertwined with mine. I imagine his lips dancing across my skin, imagine his hands wandering, exploring, desperate with need.
I imagine his cock, long and thick, thrusting into me again and again and again. I’ve seen its outline, although I have pretended I haven’t, but I know that it does not compare to the real thing, released and wielded. 
I can only imagine the pleasure he could endow with such a weapon. 
Pretending my fingers are that weapon, I plunge them inside of myself again and again. I go deep, quickly, imagining the hardness of his body sliding against every inch of my soft curves. Finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, I cry out, not caring that the help could possibly hear. 
I hate that we stopped after a measly kiss. A kiss that I started, a kiss that should have never been, a kiss that I cannot help but fixate on, obsess over. 
For the first time, I’ve felt wanted. I felt loved, cared for, cherished. I can only imagine what it would feel like if things had escalated, if the help was not right outside, wandering through my husband's house. If we were alone, I would have let him take me. I would have let him have all of me. 
Unsure of what that says about me, I continue to live out my fantasy. With every fictitious thrust that Cassian grants me, I come alive. Tears fill my eyes and even I pity myself for the pathetic nature of my situation, but I push that feeling aside and continue to find pleasure, dwelling in the sensation rising up inside of me. 
It’s his name I cry out when I find release. 
When my body stops shaking, when my chest stops heaving, I close my eyes and it is his smiling face that I see.
This is absurd.
I cry, shamelessly, surrounded by flickering candles that are slowly dwindling to their deaths. Sorrow and longing and an odd sense of jealousy flood my body. I am jealous of every woman who has married for love, who had the opportunity to avoid being in a marriage of convenience. After the jealousy comes the loathing.
I hate Tomas.
I hate him as a husband and as a man. I rue the day that I must give him an heir, a child that makes us a family, that shackles me to him further. I hate how he treats me, how he orders me around like I am one of the servants, how he takes out his anger and bitterness on every inch of my skin. I hate how he touches me in bed, how he makes me feel dirty after every time I am forced to carry out my marital duties. 
Cassian is twice the man that Tomas will ever be. I am jealous of the woman who will take his hand in marriage, who will become the mother of his children, who will run his household alongside him in love and dignity.
I am envious that it will not be me.
It cannot be.
I have already been spoken for, claimed by the devil himself. 
Opening my eyes, I stare at the ceiling as my sobs have grown to silent tears streaming down the sides of my face, absorbing into my feathery pillow. Candlelight dances along the ceiling, grounding me. 
I should be his.
And he should be mine.
The truth that is so painfully obvious occurs to me and I do not deny it any longer. I stopped denying it the moment that I kissed him. I love him. 
I am in love with him.
A gentleman, a man who is not my husband, a man who looks at me as if I am the only woman in all of existence.
Rising out of bed, I wipe my eyes and dress quickly in a pair of slacks and a shirt I keep for riding when Tomas is out of town. After donning my boots and cloak, I pin up my hair and sneak quietly into the hallway and out of the manor, toward the stables. 
I, Lady Nesta Mandray, deserve to be loved, too. 
________________________________
<.>.<.> Cassian <.>.<.>
The whiskey isn’t cutting it tonight. 
I’m on my second glass at the gentleman’s club, but I cannot feel a thing. Nothing that’s real, anyway. I can still feel every touch of her hands on my chest, of her lips on mine, and it is torturous. The image, the feeling, the utter sensation is branded in my memory. I’m convinced that nothing will ever compare to that fleeting moment. 
Fuck.
The things I would have done to her if we were anywhere else but in the home of her husband. Husband. She’s married. It’s a fact that I’ve always known but have never fully accepted, and now that’s coming back to bite me in the ass. 
I took it too far. She was the one that kissed me but I sure as hell didn’t deny her. I would never. I’m incapable. She could ask anything of me and I would do it with no hesitation. I’m in too deep and I simply don’t give a damn. 
It was a perfect moment. I have no regrets. The only regret that I have is that there simply was not enough time. There was not enough time for me to truly show her what she means to me. There was not enough time to lay her down, strip her bare, and worship every inch of her beautiful skin. I meant what I had said, what I had confessed. I am in love with this woman.
I drain what’s left in my glass. 
The empty glass haunts me as I slide it across the bartop and hop off my stool. I hear the echoes of goodbyes behind me but I ignore them all, unable to fully hear their farewells. My mind is occupied. 
I return home the same way I came: meandering beneath the famous starlight. The stars seem dimmer tonight as if they’re mourning alongside me. 
I’m selfish. There is no reason for me to mourn. You cannot mourn for something you never had. 
I have no idea how much time has passed when I make it to my townhouse. The lantern by the door is still burning as I open it up and slump inside only to be greeted by the silence of an empty house. At this hour, I have no doubt that my butler and the handful of maids that keep my house in a state of perfection are sleeping soundly in their beds. At least, I hope they are. They work hard enough as it is. 
After locking the door and tiptoeing across the foyer, I find a lamp to light and carry it up the stairs. 
The space has never felt so big. 
After walking past the sitting room and the study, I find my bedroom at the end of the corridor and kick off my boots as I walk inside.
The shadow of a figure sitting on my bed shifts, and I nearly drop the candle in my hand and wake up every servant in this household when I curse.
Loudly. 
“I’m sorry,” the figure breathes, and the tone of her voice instantly calms me.
I hold up the candle and see her watching me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “Nesta.” “I’m sorry,” she says, and it looks like she’s about to panic. “I…I don’t know what I’m doing here.” She jumps off my mattress and starts pacing. “I was just…I was in bed, thinking about you and before I knew what I was doing, I was here.”
In bed.
Thinking about me.
I don’t give a damn what else she says. That’s enough.
“I should go.”
I close my bedroom door. “How did you get in here?”
Nesta opens her mouth, then closes it, then she huffs a laugh. “I…am no saint. I learned how to scale a wall pretty young.”
The image of her scaling a wall makes me laugh. Then I realize that she’s wearing a shirt and trousers beneath her cloak, the fabric hugging her curves. I swallow as her words settle in. “No one knows you’re here?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“And you’re here because…?”
She shrugs, shamelessly. “I had to see you.”
I take a moment to reply, careful to be certain that I heard her correctly. “Earlier, you said—”
“I love you,” she says, and her words are so quiet that I have to halt my breathing to hear each word clearly. Her eyes shine in the dim light. “I had to let you know. I couldn’t live without you knowing. And I am sorry that I am here, being selfish, but I love you, Cassian. Even if this can never be.” 
The words rush out of her and I cannot stop myself from moving towards her. I set the candle down on my dresser as I pass it and before I can collect my thoughts, I’m standing in front of her, looking down into her eyes. The room falls into silence and I have to convince myself that she’s really here, in front of me. 
When it’s clear that she is, I kiss her.
Our bodies press up against one another as I grab her by the waist and draw her close to me. She doesn’t hesitate, her tongue brushing along mine.  
“You taste like whiskey,” she says, breath warm against my lips. “Are you drunk?”
“Do I seem drunk?” I tease, cradling her face in my hands.
“No,” she says, suppressing a smile. 
“I tried to be and failed,” I confess, brushing my thumbs along her smooth ivory skin. My own seem so dark in comparison. It’s a welcome contrast. 
“I am glad you are not,” she says, leaning into my touch.
She kisses me slowly, savoring every passing second. I am the one to pull back this time.
“This is inappropriate.”
“Wholly,” she agrees, sliding her hands up my chest. “To say the least.”
I swallow, stilling her hands. “There is no going back.”
As much as it pains me, I feel the need to warn her. If we continue, I will not be able to stop, and if we go through with this, things will never be the way they once were. Our words will be more than words. They will become something greater. 
Her eyes do not waver. “I do not want to go back. I want to know what it is like to make love to you. Even if it is only once.”
The thought of doing it once and never again is agonizing.
The thought of not having her at all is so much worse. 
When I kiss her this time, there is no going back.
I lift her up, gripping her backside as her legs quickly and comfortably wrap around my body. Our mouths are a battle of teeth and tongue, clashing together, unable to get close enough. Forgetting about every reason that we shouldn’t, every obstacle we are about to face, I carry Lady Nesta Mandray to my bed and lay her down. 
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miss-choi-park · 2 months
Text
Sin never tasted so...
Chapter 1 - Fate is a bastard
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A TXT Yeonjun Fanfiction from Mrs. Choi-Park
CEO/non-idol/dom/bully!Yeonjun! / Confident/sub/named/fem!Reader!
No obstacle - made of stone - stops love, what love can do, it dares to do. - pretty cheesy, right?
Romeo and Juliet, literature that can only be endured through modern language and films, nowadays. We all know the plot.
~A boy and a girl, madly in love with each other but the tragic circumstances of the family dispute kill both of them in the end.
The "most beautiful" love story in the world...if you don't experience it yourself. Fate is sometimes an ice-cold bastard.
Warnings under the cut
Warnings: rough language, hate speech, bullying, sex language, they kinda hate each other, caring yeonjun
Please remember that I fully respect the privacy of all K-Pop Idols and that this is just a fantasy. It's not my intention to harm anyone! (I've been a MOA since March 2023)
The hot whirlpool was just right thing for my muscles, which were pretty acidic from two days of skiing.
I still had four days ahead of my parents and my winter sports trip. And even though skiing was my favorite sport after hip-hop dancing, it was pretty tiring. My parents and I also received an unpleasant surprise yesterday.
The 5-star sports hotel high in the Pyeongchang Mountains has also attracted another rich Korean family from Seoul.
Why did the Choi's - my father's chosen mortal enemies - have to have a vacation in the same hotel as us in the same week as us?!
Ever since I was little, my parents always instilled in me that the Choi's were truly the spawn of hell.
It wasn't until I was 13 years old that I really found out why our family's didn't get along at all.
My parents, who had moved from Germany to Korea four years before I was born, had started with a small bookstore, which developed into a publishing house for small authors and later into the second largest publishing house in South Korea. My parents have always hated the Choi's, who put obstacles in their way, even now they were holding back our really great success.
The Choi's owned the number one publishing house in Korea, which had also been producing Manhwa's for several years now. (Counterpart to Japanese anime)
Because of this family, my parents struggled with racism, failure and stagnation. We had to deal with copyright lawsuits again and again - fights that emptied our Bank account and were never really justified. We also couldn't follow up with the manhwa's because it was forbidden to us. The old Choi was "a big animal in the world of Politics," as he always said. And even though my parents had come a long way...we had to constantly look into our pockets while the Choi's lived in luxury.
The 5-star holiday was the first in 6 years. Before that we either couldn't go on a skiing holiday or we could only go to a 3-4 star hotel. That's why I wanted to enjoy the whirlpool now and do not think of anything bad, who knows when I'll have that again.
For two minutes I enjoyed the flow of water and the bubbles massaging my back.
Until~
"Oh no, that can't be possible! I wanted to go into that hot tub, potato!" I heard a voice. It didn't take a split second before I recognized the voice. The unpleasant nickname, only one person used it for me, was the final hint.
I opened my eyes and lifted my head, which I had rested on the edge of the hot tub.
Choi Yeonjun.
As expected.
The 24-year-old son of the family I had grown to hate.
Yeonjun stood on the stairs that led up to the hot tub where I was relaxing. I rolled my eyes, not giving him a second glance after dropping my head back down again.
He wasn't worth saying anything back.
"Come on out, I want to relax!" he grumbled. Without saying anything, I raised my hand out of the water with my middle finger held up.
There was silence for a moment. Before I was about to look up to see if he had disappeared, I heard an angry murmur. Then noises coming from the water. I raised my head again and actually saw Yeonjun across from me climbing into the large whirlpool.
"Fuck! What are you doing?!" I threw it at his head and Yeonjun looked up. His look more than disgusted as he lowered himself.
"Maybe I can get you out of here when I'm in." Yeonjun's arm swirled through the water in front of him as his gaze followed his movement. I saw him grin evilly, "Cool, through the whirlpool bubbles, you can't even tell that I've just made bubbles."
As his gaze climbed up to me, I understood what he meant and jumped up immediately. I had 100% confidence that he had just farted in here. So I rushed out of the water, exclaiming in disgust: "You really are the stupidest creep I've ever met!"
Yeonjun laughed as I tied my towel around myself, crawled into my flip flops and rushed away.
Stupid asshole! Why did I have to bother with something like that? Life could be so beautiful.
Even at school he was the biggest idiot I knew, who made every day there a living hell until he finally graduated and I could enjoy four years without him.
Stupid private comprehensive school from the first to the eighth grade we were in one school. Luckily he was always four steps above me, but I was always afraid the stupid idiot would repeat a year and we will sit together in a class at some point. Surprisingly this never happened.
He ruined everything. My school days, my school dance club - which he also signed up for after I signed up - the success of my family and so much more.
I really hated Yeonjun.
He was a brat, idiot, know-it-all and disgusting. I had asked my fate several times 'Why him? Why do I have to know someone like that?' ~ I would never have received an answer.
I really hoped he wouldn't come to the little party in the mountain hut by the ski slopes this evening. Hopefully he wasn't in the hut today where there were a thousand posters saying that today was a Party. Because as far as I knew Yeonjun, he took every party with him and always a slut from there who fell for his tricks and then was dropped by him afterwards.
Asshole!
I didn't want to spend any longer in the hotel's swimming area so I went to my room.
The smarter one always gives in, right?
*
Hope dies last, but eventually it dies too.
For me the time had come when the door of the cozy mountain hut opened and Yeonjun entered.
From my seat at the bar I could see the door perfectly and everyone who entered could also see me. Unfortunately, our eyes met immediately. I exhaled in frustration and rolled my eyes. The nice young man named Danwoo, who I had already met on the ski slopes yesterday, looked at me in surprise.
"What's up?" He asked over the loud music in the bar as I looked deep into my cocktail glass, hoping Yeonjun would just ignore me.
"Nothing…I"
"Heyjo Sumi!" A loud voice shouted at us.
Oh, please don't! Why me?!
While Danwoo turned in the direction the voice had come from, I drank my cocktail, which was actually quite strong, in one go.
When I put my glass back down, I was immediately greeted by Yeonjun's sharp eyes. He had stopped close to Danwoo and leaned on the counter so he could look at me.
"I thought you didn't like parties, sweetie." He greeted me.
I gave him a dark look.
"First of all, don't call me sweetie, second of all, I don't like parties when you're around and third, fuck off!" I replied.
Unfortunately, I knew that Yeonjun wouldn't be shaken off so easily.
Yeonjun gave a half-hearted laugh and raised his eyebrows: “That’s bad, I wasn’t planning on going.”
"Excuse me...may I ask who you are?" Danwoo interrupted our conversation and I clenched my teeth so hard that my jaw hurt as Yeonjun looked disparagingly at my acquaintance.
"The question would be mine first." He replied to Danwoo, who seemed a little taken aback.
"Yeonjun! Just shut up and leave!" I protested, causing his gaze to turn back to me. His bored look turned into a wickedly amused grin.
He rested his head on his hand: "Why so pissed off, little one? Your problem if you're always looking for someone who can't satisfy you."
A fire burned inside me. I immediately jumped up from my chair, wanting to choke Yeonjun with the small silver chain that hung around his neck.
I walked up to him and held my finger close to his nose: "I'd like you to-"
Before I could even continue speaking, I felt a hand on my shoulder pulling me back and away from Yeonjun faster than I expected.
It turned out to be Danwoo who pulled me through the dancing crowd, out of Yeonjun's sight. When we finally got to the corner where sofas were, he looked at me a little surprised: "Who was that?"
I looked at Danwoo for a few seconds before I glanced over my shoulder and was relieved to see that Yeonjun didn't seem to have followed us.
"Oh, that was nobody. I've called him my problem my whole life...please don't worry about him, he's just an asshole." I said and Danwoo's facial expressions relaxed a bit.
"Why is he here?"
"I would like to know that too, believe me, fate is just not kind to me."
"Then let's get out of his way."
"Deal!"
Surprisingly, I didn't even see a trace of Yeonjun in the hut for the next 2 hours. He had probably already grabbed the next poor girl and was fucking her somewhere.
I didn't care. Danwoo was so generous in ordering me a ton of alcohol that I didn't even think about Yeonjun. Until Danwoo went to the toilet around 2am, I took a short break from dancing and sank onto the couch in the back compartment of the mountain hut.
The party was surprisingly well attended, the songs were first class and the atmosphere was electric. I was happy to have met Danwoo because I would never go to a party like this alone.
My vision was still clear, but I noticed that my mood was getting significantly better with every second. I also started some conversations with complete strangers on the dance floor. Well, my inhibitions were long overcome.
"Where did you leave your boyfriend?" Someone asked me. I looked to my right where a bad awakening awaited me.
Yeonjun.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" I asked, horrified. My good mood immediately disappeared.
"I was sitting here the whole time." He grumbled, taking a sip from his beer bottle that had been resting between his legs.
I stood up immediately.
I thought Yeonjun had already left the party, what was he doing here all of a sudden?!
I stood up immediately.
"Hey, wait! I asked you something!" He protested as I tried walking away. I ignored him and tried to escape through the dancing crowd. Unfortunately, this turned out to be difficult, thanks to the somewhat chubby man in front of me.
"Hey!" I heard Yeonjun say, shortly afterwards a surprisingly warm hand on my forearm. I was spun around and to make matters worse, lost my balance due to my drunkenness.
The next moment I found myself on the floor, between Yeonjun's legs. When I glanced up at him he seemed confused, but this was quickly replaced by a broad smile.
"Oh what did I do to deserve this honor?" He asked and I furrowed my eyebrows.
But before I could get up, Yeonjun leaned forward, his face now close to mine.
"Will you answer my question now?" He asked. The smell of beer could be clearly smelled from his breath. But my breathing probably wasn't any better.
"Why? Jealous?"
"Pfft!" with that amused sound, Yeonjun leaned back and I took the chance to get up.
"Why should I be jealous? You should be." He said and I looked down at him confused.
"What does that mean again?!" I wanted to know and Yeonjun shrugged indifferently.
"I thought I saw your guy disappearing into a cubicle in the toilet with someone earlier." He explained himself and I raised an eyebrow.
"God! How much have you drunk?"
"3 beers and a soju shot. I know what I saw.", He murmured before taking another sip from his bottle, "Think about it, how long has he been gone now?"
Oh my god...he wasn't entirely wrong. Danwoo had probably been gone for a little longer than 15 minutes. I bit my bottom lip, rather unconsciously, as I looked over my shoulder at the toilet entrance.
Well maybe the queue was long…
"Come!" Yeonjun said in a firm voice and walked past me. More successful than me, he made his way through the dancing crowd. I was left a little surprised. It was Yeonjun we were talking about here...he probably just wanted to convince me of something again. Lies were his specialty.
"What's wrong now, potato?" Yeonjun shouted, just loud enough for me to hear him over the music. I bit my lip again before hesitantly moving forward. I trotted after Yeonjun through the crowd. We got to the toilets pretty quickly.
From what I got to know - Danwoo was the complete opposite of Yeonjun. Funny, understanding, decent and attentive...I wouldn't trust him to ever cheat on anyone-
I froze when I saw Danwoo in the doorframe of the men's toilet. A short woman with long black hair stood in front of him, giggling wildly.
"Danwoo?" I immediately forgot it when I saw him and the unknown girl together.
Danwoo turned his head to the side and immediately stood upright. His features looked shocked. Like a little kid who just got caught stealing candy.
"Hey Sumi... uhm it's not what it looks like."
"Oh no! It is exactly what it looks like! What was he like, doll?" Yeonjun joined the conversation, the question obviously directed at the black-haired girl.
So he was right...Yeonjun hadn't lied to me. Then why did I want him to do it?
Contrary to my expectations, my eyes began to burn. A sign of impending tears.
Oh no!
The girl standing in front of Danwoo looked back and forth between me and him, more than surprised, as if she wanted to make sure we both were real.
"What do you want again? I don't even know you." Danwoo said to Yeonjun and I just turned around and ran. I didn't know where my legs would take me, but I just wanted to be somewhere else right now. Somewhere far away.
Why were all boys so shitty? My first boyfriend had already cheated on me...why does it have to happen again?! Why does fate always have to put obstacles in my way?! Why can't I be lucky too?!
Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the mountain hut in the freezing cold winter when the first tear finally ran down my cheek.
The cold wind that blew over my arms, which were only covered with a thin sweater, gave me goosebumps. But I was less interested in that right now. I folded my arms and pulled my shoulders up to my ears, as I ran from A to B and cursed things that even I couldn't understand.
Only the light from the window of the hut and the light from the drag lifts twenty meters away brought light to the pitch-dark ski slope that stretched below me.
It's not what it looks like! It's always what it looks like! - "Asshole, idiot, wanker!" I called out into the clear evening air.
"I hope you don't mean me again?" A voice suddenly came from behind me.
I turned around and recognized Yeonjun in the dim light of the surroundings. I quickly turned away again.
Never let your enemies see your tears!- my father always says.
"Are you crying?" He asked further and I heard the snow crunching under his feet.
I frantically wiped my cold teary cheeks.
"Pff, not because of him! How long have you known him - a day?" Yeonjun said. His voice now close behind me.
"What do you want here, Yeonjun? Leave me alone, I have enough to worry about right now!" I replied sharply. For a moment there was silence. I kept my gaze fixed on the snow beneath me. I started to shiver, unintentionally but no wonder given the cold.
"I'll make sure you don't freeze to death out here." I heard him say. His answer was a little softer than usual.
"Ha! That would be fine with you." I hissed back.
"That's nonsense!" Yeonjun exclaimed, the next moment I felt his hands on my shoulders and I promptly were turned around.
"Why are you crying and trying to get yourself killed out here? Boys suck, you should know that."
"Cheating is not only shit, it's anti-social, unrespectful and a crime!", I pulled myself out of his grasp, "I just want to be alone right now, so get lost!"
"You're such a stubborn person sometimes that I just-"
"That you want to - what? - You want to kill me? Then make it easy and get inside! The cold will do the jo-"
Before I could finish, Yeonjun grabbed my forearm and pulled me with him surprisingly easily.
"Let go of me, asshole!" I protested as he opened the door to the mountain hut again.
He showed the tall, broadly built security man his party entry bracelet and also mine, since I was wearing it on my wrist, which he was holding tightly. The man nodded and looked at me a little confused as Yeonjun dragged me further.
"What's your jacket?!" He wanted to know when he got to the cloakroom and finally let me go. His grip would definitely leave bruises. "Mind your own business?" I asked and Yeonjun gave me a dangerous look.
"If you have your jacket, you're welcome to stand outside all night long, but you won't die." He growled.
"Since when have you been interested in my health?" I didn't give in.
"SUMI!!!" Yeonjun shouted clearly for everyone in the hut to hear, even over the loud music. I winced.
"Can't you forget your fucking pride for once and tell me what your fucking jacket looks like?!" He cursed at me. I looked at him for a few moments and then at the woman in the dressing room who had been watching us in shock. Finally, I rummaged through my back pocket of my jeans for the little chip that told the woman where my jacket had been hung.
The woman accepted the chip and disappeared into the cloakroom without saying a word.
"Finally!" Yeonjun turned his back to the coat rack and slumped against it. He looked at me and I suddenly felt very small. My gaze went down.
"You can be quite annoying, you know that?" He said and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. But I didn't say anything, even though there was something on the tip of my tongue that I had been able to respond.
A moment later the woman came back and put my jacket over the counter.
"Here you go, I wish you a pleasant evening." She murmured casually as she eyed Yeonjun skeptically, who still had his back to the woman.
I grabbed my jacket and decided at that moment that there was no point in staying here. So why not leaving?
Without saying another word to the woman or Yeonjun, I turned around and left.
"Put it on in front of me, otherwise I'll have to go out again!" Yeonjun asked me, but I kept going. When I finally got back outside, I put on my warm ski jacket and adjusted my scarf that was stuck in the sleeve of the jacket. Then I stalked off. The snow crunches beneath my feet.
I loved that sound and it always brought me a childlike joy, but right now it didn't spark anything in me.
I was drunk, sad and pissed off...sleep would help...maybe.
"Potato!" I heard Yeonjun calling, who seemed to have followed me outside again. I didn't stop, just looked over my shoulder in the direction of the mountain hut. Yeonjun ran after me, also frantically pulling his jacket over his shoulders.
"Hey, where are you going?" He asked when he was no longer two meters away from me.
"To the hotel, I don't want to stay anymore." I explained myself and trudged up the stairs to the drag lift.
"Oh, fuck Danwoo! He wouldn't have made it anyway!" Yeonjun said. The sound of a zipper followed his statement.
"Is it always just about the one thing for you?” I asked as we arrived at the drag lift platform, that was supposed to bring us down. It was empty except for the two of us. The lift attendant had probably gone home hours ago and had just left the lift running.
"Well, I'm just saying, you always pick the losers." Yeonjun said as we stood so that a lift could swing directly into our legs. What happened immediately afterwards. We dropped into the cold seat of the seat lift and began our way down.
"How do you know? Danwoo wouldn’t have-"
"Oh no, don't tell me that. Danwoo wouldn't have gotten anything done. And that's exactly your problem!" He interrupted and I looked at him questioningly after I pulled down the bar that now served us as a belt.
"What's my problem?"
"You're totally unsatisfied! That's why it's so annoying with you."
I tried my best not to give the most sarcastic laugh the world had ever heard.
"You're such an idiot! That's not my problem, it's you! I'm a gentle little flower to others, you know...but as you are to me, I'm to you!"
Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, "A gentle flower? How much did you drink?"
"To be honest, a lot, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm telling the truth." I said and crossed my arms.
"Hm...I'd rather stick to my opinion - sounds more logical." Yeonjun grumbled.The rest of the ride was silent. After we got out, we had to walk about 10 minutes to the hotel.
It was strange. I almost didn't feel the need to avoid Yeonjun. Of course he was annoying me - to hell - but I was almost happy not to be alone, even if it was Yeonjun...with whom I shared the silence of the night.
In the second minute of the walk, Yeonjun found his voice again: "Honestly, when was the last time you had really good sex?"
I looked at Yeonjun in horror. He looked at me almost innocently. A stark contrast to his question.
"As if I'm telling you this..." to be honest I've never had sex...but he didn't need to know that. With my first boyfriend it never got further than foreplay. Well, I was 20 now, but I never put any pressure on myself to have sex.
You don't miss what you don't know, so why the rush. The right one will come at some point.
"So it's been ages?" Yeonjun asked and I rolled my eyes. "Why am I even talking to you?!" I grumbled and Yeonjun gave a small laugh. "Because you know deep down that I'll bring it." This statement makes me stand still. I never expected such a statement even from Yeonjun. "Please what?" It slipped my mind and Yeonjun also stopped two steps in front of me. He smiled broadly at me and wiggled his eyebrows.
"I don't want to praise myself, but I've only ever received good feedback. I could get you to your high." He said and you could practically see him mentally patting himself on the shoulder.
"You're disgusting! I thought I am too annoying to put up with for even two minutes." I pointed out and Yeonjun shrugged.
"Drunk you're ok." He said and continued walking. After a few seconds I started moving again.
"Still this won't happen in a thousand years!" I said, earning a laugh from Yeonjun.
"Not even if you were the last one in the world." I continued my thought. Now nothing came from Yeonjun. The thought shook my body.
No, no, I would never go into bed with him. Disgusting!
"I..would." I then heard and looked up. Yeonjun looked over his shoulders at me.
"I do not think so."
"I guess so!"
"Oh man Yeonjun, are you really just thinking with your cock?"
"Would be a huge space for thinking." It took me two seconds to understand what he meant. When it clicked, I pushed him aside: "You're really gross!"
The hotel was already in sight. I almost thought we had a good moment, a minute ago, but now I just wanted to get away from this conversation quickly. Luckily, Yeonjun stayed behind me and kept his mouth shut. But I felt his gaze very present on me.
"Apart from your stubbornness, which really annoys me, you have a really nice body." Yeonjun finally said as we turned into the hotel parking area.
"Yeonjun stop, this is really strange!" I protested, only hearing a deep breath behind me.
"Are you really drunk?" He asked further and I looked over my shoulder. His warm breath puffed into the cold air, clearer than my own.
"I don't think DRUNK but ON DRUNK." I said as I pushed open the front door of the hotel. The lobby was only dimly lit, but cozy and warm. Nobody was here anymore - sure it was about 3am. I stopped briefly in front of the fireplace and stretched out my cold fingers. The ember still released heat.
Mmm, that was nice.
Suddenly someone grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back violently. Immediately afterwards I noticed the corner of the old wooden reception desk on my lower back. Startled, I looked up and was greeted by Yeonjun's sharp eyes. I knew that Yeonjun was significantly taller than me, but he was just so close to me that I had to look up high. His hands firmly on my hips, holding me close to the reception.
"What the hell-"
"Funny...I'm pretty horny right now." He murmured and I saw his eyes suddenly darken. That sent a shiver down my spine.
Please feel free to let me know your opinion 🤗
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sakuraryomen01 · 11 months
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The Wild Tiger Twins /Suku + Yuji x fem!reader/ .o1 ♡
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warning: as the title suggests; tiger twins! . fantasy au . omega verse style (adding warning since this had to deal with heat/rut for the boys) . short story/fanfiction .
reader: fem! reader
plot: the life of a barmaid wasn't enough for you, it was boring and tiresome. wanting something better for yourself was almost like a dream before you come across this flyer. creatures spotted near the village with a reward big enough to allow you a better life. following your life for a scribe, you venture out beyond the wall.. not getting what you expected..
words: 2.374k
a/n: wanted to write something for my favorite duo so imma do this and hope you enjoy it! I also wanted to dabble in another writing style to see if it'd end up good too. So if it's a little stranger than my normal style, I apologize lol ♡
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Growing up fearing the woods beyond the cities' borders, of all the creatures and the forest folk that dwells within the confines of darkness was like second nature. Believing all the stories and tales of the Peacekeepers, Elves, dwarfs, and Wizards.
That the darkness behind the walls was to not be trusted.
The little towns that populated themselves were almost all alone, stranded to fend for themselves as they traded goods and services with their closest neighbors.
Their King, one of the original Peacekeepers of the realm and great-great-great grandfather of the current ruler, had built the walls to keep them safe from the monsters that lurked inside the woods.
It was like his gratitude in physical form for all that bowed to him and worked for him.
Before the wall was built, the towns folk would be raided by wild animals and creatures that were almost freakish. Stories and legends of dragons and orcs that threatened the towns for their gold and food. Great wars were fought between the Elves and humans for dominance of the lands, demons crawling throughout the spaces of each for souls to harvest. The main city alone where the King lived with his family and more higher ranks mortals was an old battle ground that was claimed by humans.
Evidence of these terrible tragedies were written on the walls of each town, the additional villages surrounding them being the only ones to see the scars that they carried.
Claw marks and burns, large dents and newer rock being placed after each attack. While it had been about a few years, there was little to no sign of the forest folk. Only small attacks of the shipments from town to town, the little paths that lead through them being jumped for their food every so often.
But that was pretty much it. The only signs that something still populated the forest was the small attacks.
It was like living in a fairytale, but it was real. For you at least.
Having a fascination for life beyond the borders of the kingdom was like asking for your own death. No one but the Kings and Queens of the kingdoms and the knights or scribes were allowed to venture into the woods. To go and negotiate with their neighboring utopias to maintain the peace and tranquility of the world.
Something a little barmaid like you couldn't do.
You were stuck in your little world, wiping tables and filling orders for local knights and men that asked for a pint of ale. Getting up everyday from your small cottage that was housing your little brother and parents. Living your plain little life while your brother was training to become one of the knights, hoping to get transferred to the King's Court after he's become stronger.
It was like your family's little world of perfection and peace.
You were able to read and write, looked up to by the little ones of your former schooling house. The girls admired your talents while the boys aspired to be like your brother. Strong and smart, you and your brother were. A perfect duo for your mother and father.
Your brother, Flynt, was one of the lower ranked knights at this point in his life. Patiently waiting for his letter to transfer, to get away from this small town to go out and fight real wars and monsters.
Not continuously save your job from bar fights.
"This is the last time, Y/n," He muttered, wiping his hands off on his shirt. A few girls swooning over your brothers looks in the background, having just watched him put two drunkards out on their asses.
Again.
"I'm serious, I can't have any more marks. My captain is already considering dropping my transfer."
"I'm sorry, Flynt," You respond, cleaning up the mess on the ground in front of the bar. "How 'bout a free pint on the house?"
"Heh, make that two." Your brother wiggled two fingers in the air while you chuckled and went behind the counter.
The last thing you wanted to do was ruin your brother's dreams. He had worked so hard and giving him more marks on his record was something that could easily destroy all his progress.
You picked up two large cups, heavy and equal in weight, and popped one of the tabs for your cheapest ale there. Despite you and Flynt being able to pay for exquisite wines and meals, you both liked the cheap stuff. That type of food was special for you both, and the flavors of the town's food was all you needed. Greasy, and sloppy.
"Thanks," Your brother said after you pushed his pints down the bar towards him. A loud clap as the cups hit his hand and he lifted one to his lips, taking a large gulp before taking a breath.
"How's your internship thing going?" Parking yourself near your sibling, resting your arms on the counter and letting your chin hang off of your fist. "Mum told me you were going to get a higher placement in the ranks next week. That's amazing!"
Flynt shrugged, wiping his mouth of the booze and sighing. "For someone that wants to just work for the Guild, sure. I want to be in the front lines."
You press your lips together and slap your brother's wrist with a click of your tongue. "Hey, just be happy! You'll be getting your transfer letter anyways, and having a higher rank now would be easier to place you in the army."
Remaining silent, Flynt looking over at you with a disbelieving look. But he nodded and continuing to drink his alcohol, ordering a small meal for himself while you got back to work.
That was your life so far.
Work. Family. Sleep.
A constant loop with endless repeats of themselves. Every once in a while something will come up that would spark a celebration. Once it was over though, you went back to doing your daily routine. It was dull, boring; nothing like you wanted it to be.
You wanted excitement, adventure. You wanted Flynt's life.
You wanted to proudly say you got to see the capital and visit the great lord of your country. To become a scribe for your King and serve him like a proper lady.
But you didn't. You were a simple barmaid.
One that was ready to settle down and get married maybe.
While that sounded all nice and dandy, it didn't sound all that fun. Finding someone in your village instead of being able to travel around for it was almost just as annoying as your current predicament. No stories to tell your future children how you met your husband, or any tales to tell for bedtime.
You didn't want to be boring.
Going home like normal that day, gathering your things and saying goodbye to your coworkers. Their smiles and kind words made you return the gestures before exiting the small watering hole for the townsfolk. You rummaged through your small bag at your hip, checking to see if you got all the little bits of your uniform before seeing something run by quickly in your peripheral vision.
It was dark out so whatever it was could've been a small cat or dog that wandered the alleys between the homes.
Your mind wasn't wandering much so you shrugged it off and looked back down at your bag before hearing something fall over. It sounded like one of the shipments from a few days ago to the tavern. Apples and other fruits were waiting to be put away so they ended up being left out while things were getting sorted out.
Maybe an animal knocked one of the carts over?
You sigh, closing your bag and heading over to the back of the building. Looking around for any culprit to blame, seeing no one in the dark alleyway and turning your attention to the fallen fruits. Kneeling to the ground and starting to gather some of them while the quiet chirping of crickets and other bugs became background noise.
It had been a while since something like this had happened, so you wondered if it was one of your coworkers sorting through the items that might've been to blame. Thinking of different reasons that the supplies were pushed over, your hand landed on a flier that had been dropped near the carts. You assumed it was advertisements for the tavern but it wasn't that.
On the top in bold ink was "Warning" and a subtitle saying 'creature spotted. rewards offered by the Guild!'
"..Creature?" You mumbled to yourself, looking over the yellowed paper and standing. Letting a few apples that sat in your lap fall to the ground and roll on the cobblestone.
The further you read, you came across a crude drawing of what appeared to be animal people. You couldn't quite tell what they were, seeing as it was just a shadowed outline someone doddled for reference. Scanning the ink, a shiver running up your spine at the information and looking at the reward offered.
It was enough to move out of town, to the capital.
It makes you want to go out and look for these creatures, to get that money and move away to the city. You'll be able to become a scribe, and have a life that was better than here. A smile lifted your lips as you finished cleaning up and putting the paper in your pouch.
Quickly fixing yourself and heading home, excited for whatever the future may hold. The promise for a better life outside of the walls was enough motivation for you. You imagined the place you'll be able to hold once you're allowed a little freedom. To walk the streets of the kingdom and scribble notes into a small journal, to carry a duty with you while you earned respect from colleagues.
Once home, you ran upstairs and past your mother and father whom were cooking that night's supper. "Ah, Y/n! Where are you—?"
"Going to get ready! Bye!" You said quickly, leaving them in stunned silence as your stomps up the steps grew quiet.
"..Must've had a good day?" Your father said, a confused look on his face as he glanced at his wife. "Nevermind her. Let's finish supper, darling."
You sat in your room, looking through a few books and pulling one from the shelf. Flipping through a few pages and looking at designs for the King's scribes. Their uniforms were based on the color of emeralds, white lacing and stripes along the main body with some rhinestones across the collar. There was a small, silver choker that was also a part of the uniform, a small little ruby in the middle or sapphire to tell what your position in the Order was.
This was something you looked at for years. Dreaming of wearing it one day for so long. Who knew it was so close?
All that waiting might be able to pay off soon.
"Get out of your room, it's time for dinner!" The pounding on the door surprising you, the voice of your little brother on the other side makes you grunt and stand.
"Ughh.. Fine, I'll be out in a minute!"
There was silence in return, so you took a few moments to stare at the picture for a little longer. The life of a scribe, it was so close.
One last shiver of inspiration flowed through your body as you closed the book and stood to put it up. Changing from your day's dirty clothes and unpinning your hair from its bun. Dressing in a nightgown and brushing the knots and curls from your hair. You quickly completed the task and ran down to dinner, seeing your brother already in his nightwear too.
He sent you a small smirk, looking over your clothes. "That's a bit childish, no?"
"Nightgowns are perfectly normal, uggo," You retorted, taking your seat at the table while your mother brought the food around.
Flynt laughed at this, sitting next to your father and continuing to sneer at you. The childish banter makes your parents giggle to themselves. "So, how was your day?"
"Y/n had another bar fight while I was visiting," Flynt said, starting to eat his meal and looking at your dad. Seeing an eye roll as his gaze shifted to you.
"Again?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was the same guys too."
"Y/n, you should look for a different job if that's the case," Your mother interjected, a stern tone to her voice as she shared a look with your father. "I don't want you to end up getting hurt over some bar fight. You'll be fired or your brother will be removed from the Guild over it!"
You sighed, this is how it always ended up.
Your mother started worrying for your safety, urging you to quit and get a better job. Your father soon joined and grumbled about how uncivilized the new generation was ending up. Another loop makes its way into your path to calm that excitement from earlier. Their voices began to buzz into the background, becoming soft chatter while your thoughts swirled around what to do.
Should you just get a sick day to go explore? How could you even get out to the walls? It'd take a while to get there.
As your thoughts continued to swirl, your mother brought in your favorite dessert. Giving small plates to everyone to split between your family before sitting and enjoying the sweet treat. Mindlessly eating the dish, your eyes began to get heavy with sleep.
Your body hits you with tiredness like any other day, forcing you to excuse yourself early to get to bed and wake up the next morning. As your family continued to chat away about your brother's achievements, you made your way up the stairs and quickly climbed into your bed.
The plush pillow was fresh and clean along with the sheets and blankets. Smelling like lavender and other assorted wildflowers, you nuzzled into your little nest and peacefully whisked off to sleep. Dreaming about the life you want to live, walking around the capital and sorting documents for the King.
---
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a/n: links will be provided below to the future chapters/parts of this mini story. it's going to be like headcanons too, eventually. i hope you guys enjoy it while i'm working on the next chapter of Valentino
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|| part 1 . part 2 . part 3 . part 4 . part 5
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cbk1000 · 7 months
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Fandom Creator's Self-Rec Game!
Choose five favourites from your own creations (and tell me why, if you like!), then pass on to at least five other people. I'd love to hear what you're proudest of.
Tagged by @the-pen-pot and actually I think @anonymintea also tagged me a while back? I vaguely remember seeing that in my activity and kind of recoiling at the idea of trying to rec my own stuff. lmfao But I have time to sit down and do it now and I am being so brave. I am just going to rec Merlin fics for this post, since that's what I've been working on and thinking about for the last four years or so, and those fics are the ones that are fresh in my mind. (Honourable mention goes to my Originals series, though, because I spent so much time on that sumabitch.)
All right, five favourites...know that this is excruciating for me and feels very cringe, because I am not normal. lmao
And Down the River's Dim Expanse (Merthur, 13k)
In which Arthur is a water spirit who tries to drown Merlin. Merlin is not impressed.
(This one feels like it kind of just disappeared into the morass of words I've vomited up on the topic of BBC Merlin. I don't think it's got nearly as much attention as any of my other fics, but I'm fond of it because I love fairytales and folklore and specifically anything to do with any kind of creature that lives in the water and especially if said creature tries to drown people. I'd love to do something like this again and have several ideas for fairytales to adopt (i.e. twist completely out of shape).
The Book of Merthur (Merthur, 600k+)
'It was awkward business to ignore a man sitting the length of one knee from you, especially when he had such voluminous ears, and though Arthur made a valiant attempt at it, he had soon to abandon this in favour of grousing at Merlin for a myriad of grievous transgressions, the most pressing of which was his manner of sitting far too close, as if they were mates. This shortcoming was to become a theme when they laid down after passing round a hard cheese and some bread, Merlin in Arthur’s cloak, and Arthur in nothing at all, because his was the greater constitution; and whilst Arthur was working himself into the choicest bit of ground, with the least stones, Merlin suddenly rolled over, mummified within the cloak Arthur’s thoughtfulness had provided, and put his nose into Arthur’s neck.'
The 'yes homo' we all deserved, righting the heterosexual wrongs of canon.
(My thus far 646,363-word essay on the issues I have with canon. I'm eight chapters from the end and already feeling that post-huge-project depression even though I have several ideas for what I want to do next. I really love writing historical fiction and have incorporated that into fics before, but this fic has shown me that I really really love writing fantasy heavily inspired by history: it's the same amount of research, with the added bonus that I can do whatever the hell I want. Also, as mentioned in my first rec, I really love fairytales and folklore, and this gives me the chance to incorporate them in a way that straight up historical fiction doesn't allow. Basically, this fic has allowed me to shove my boner for Arthurian legend and medieval history down people's throats at the same time. Ain't free gay fanfiction where I can do what I like great?)
Fools by Heavenly Compulsion (Merthur, ?k)
In which Arthur is gay and besotted, Merlin is bisexual and oblivious, and they have to get their shit together through WhatsApp.
(I have no idea how many words this technically is, because it's comprised entirely of screenshots of fake social media posts. I've read a few social media fics and enjoyed them and got a whole bug up my ass wanting to try it. I thought it would be an interesting challenge because it would take away so many things that a writer can usually rely on to tell a story, and for me specifically it would completely cut me off from any kind of descriptive writing. So basically I cut off all my limbs except like one arm and decided to see how I got on with that. And it HAS been really interesting to try and shape a narrative through texts and Instagram and twitter posts and still try and convey emotions and distinct personalities with such limitations on what I can actually show. It's also a lot of fun putting the posts together, although you can definitely fall down a deep rabbit hole of trying to pick just the right photo.)
Whereat the Two Sword on the Field of Death a Deathless Love (Merthur, 131k)
In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young boy. But not quite in the way you think. 'The Once and Future King'/Merlin mashup; now with 50% more gay.
(This was the first Merlin fic I ever wrote, and an homage to one of my favourite books. It was also me trying to get the show rewrite monkey off my back and distinctly failing at that, since I went on to write one that is over 600,000 words and still not complete. It's also proof that I am 100% capable of rewriting the show in under 150k, I just chose to inflict over 600,000 words on anyone insane enough to sit down and read a 600k gay porn version of BBC Merlin.)
And Time and the World Are Ever in Flight (Merthur, 39k)
In which Arthur returns to the 21st century, learns about Google, and finally realises his dream of running away to a farm with Merlin.
(Listen, the finale damaged me, I'm still damaged, and I tried to undo it with nearly 40k of tea and baby sheep. A.K.A. the one where Arthur returns and they run a sheep farm in Ireland together and finally figure out they're gay for each other and neither of them is alone ever again.)
Tagging @aemelia (you will have to rec all of yours lmao) @kirythestitchwitch @thetourguidebarbie and anyone else who wants to do this and has multiple fics.
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shimmering-dragon · 8 months
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I'm Fictionkin-ish? Coining: Imagithrope.
@who-is-page and @frameacloud's panel at Othercon has gotten me thinking about writing essays about my own alterhuman experience... I was thinking maybe I should write something about why I write fiction, and how that relates to my own identity. But thinking about that made me realize that one of the reasons I write is because I identify as a fictional self-insert character that I created when I was a hatchling in make-believe games. Like, that's the way I view myself - not as a generic blue dragon, but as that specific character. Additionally, given that many of those games were based loosely in books I've read, it means that my identity is based in fiction as well. Though I don't identify as him, my name is even based on a fictional character's!
I've never really thought about calling myself fictionkin before now. When I joined the otherkin community initially, I had some bad reactions to talking about my identity in that way. And then some more bad reactions. My identity as a dragon is involuntary; I couldn't change it if I tried (and I have), and it isn't something I intentionally made into an identity. It's a bit of why I never really got why everyone insisted strongly on the distinction between otherkin and otherlinkers. Though I'm not opposed to the idea, I don't feel like my fictional identity was made by me channeling a past life either, which felt like it was the acceptable explanation for this back in 2016. Otherwise, creating a kintype wasn't "allowed."
For a while, I felt like I separated my identity into a dragon otherkin aspect, where I was just "a dragon", and had character me on the side as a fun thing - what I considered my "kinsona". But I think this is a false dichotomy. The two aren't really separable; who I am as a dragon was created through books and play. It wasn't really until @aestherians's posts in early 2021 - five years after I found the otherkin community - that I felt that the community had finally decided that the definitional line between kintype and linktype, voluntary and involuntary, didn't have to be such a strict line after all. (I'd been arguing that "involuntary identity" shouldn't be a part of the definition of otherkin for four years by that point, so yes, I'm still both smug and salty.)
So, though I didn't expect this to lead to me coining a new term when I started out writing out this post, I've decided to do it. I'm not sure if anyone except me is going to use it, but I think creating it as a concept gives it both a bit of legitimacy and permanence. I hope it will be of use to someone else, and if anyone else shares a similar experience, I welcome them to talk about it in more detail - at some point now, I think I definitely should describe mine.
Imagithrope - An alterhuman whose identity was created and/or formed, wholly or partially, through some form of imaginative play. This can include fantasy play, roleplay (tabletop, text, live action, etc), fanfiction, writing, art, and more.
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ddejavvu · 1 year
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Exterminator!Eddie on his first week of training with his uncle, comes to your house on his first sole job. And after thinking he got rid of all the snakes, you literally get bit. And he has to suck the venom out your bare skin, while you’re both panickedly freaking the fuck out, as he’s sucking at you. What a way to meet cute
today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)
this ask is so special to me bc i am an avid fan of billy the exterminator and eddie is.. that. so. <3 also, a little psa for you all: every bit of research that i did on this method states that you should not suck the venom out of a snake bite because, of course, then there will be venom in your mouth. and you do not want venom in your mouth. snake venom is also apparently very fast-acting, so it does irreparable damage no matter how fast you get to suckin'. so bottom line. don't suck snake venom out of a bite. but for the sake of the silly little meet cute fanfiction, we're just going to pretend that it would work and it wouldn't kill eddie too <3
--
Eddie's maybe not the best exterminator in the world. Hell, maybe he's not even a good one, seeing as your arm is bleeding, and the skin around it is already rashing up.
"Holy shit," He stomps the snake's head beneath his boot, not enough to kill it but enough to restrain it, "Oh- oh my god, holy shit, you're- okay! Okay, you're fine, it's gonna be fine."
"It hurts," You whimper, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes, "Like- like really bad, are these snakes poisonous?"
"Venomous," He mumbles, reflex from his extensive (read: one week long) training, "Uh, yeah. So..."
He's apparently an even worse problem solver than he is an exterminator. You finally let your tears flow, chest heaving with sobs, "Do something!"
"Yeah! Yeah, okay," He nods, reaching out to grab you by your good arm while keeping the toe of his boot firmly against the snake's head, "C'mere."
An extensive knowledge of adventure movies gives him the perfect solution: he'll suck the venom out.
"Uh," He doesn't quite know how to go about sucking on your arm, so he directs his wide-eyed, panicked gaze to your own one, riddled with despair, "I'm gonna suck it out, okay?"
"What?" You blubber, spit clogging between your teeth.
"I'm gonna suck it out," He repeats, smoothing his thumb over your wrist, "it's okay, honey. It'll be fine. You'll live."
Now that the snake is contained, albeit not well, he's starting to come down from the panic that inflated his lungs. He's not fantastic in a crisis, but his semi-soothing words seem to help minutely, if only to get you to offer your arm up to him.
"Okay," He hums, nervous, "So I'll just..."
His lips hit your arm and turn down into a grimace at the heated skin. You feel sick, and he purses his lips around your bloody bite.
Sucking snake venom out of an open wound is... less than pleasant. But he gets a flash through his mind, an image of himself, chunky boot restraining a killer snake, fantasty-style damsel in distress clutched in his arms as he sucks poison out of her body. The fearless fighter, rather than the shitty exterminator. He only feels slightly bad about transforming what's probably the scariest moment of your life into his fantasy sequence.
He's sure, though, that the scene doesn't look as badass to Wayne, who, after hearing no response from knocking at your front door, stepped inside to check on his nephew. He stops dead in the doorway, finding his boy... sucking on your arm? And a fat tear rolls down your cheek as Eddie rips his mouth away from your skin.
He spits, urgent and messy, right into your carpet. There's a list of questionable things Eddie has done while on duty today, and it's only growing longer with time. His glob of spit comes out tinged green, and he shudders thinking about residue left against the tissue of his cheeks. He needs water, now.
"Wayne," He catches sight of the man in the doorway, frozen still, "Snake bite. Call 911."
He leans down to grab the snake beneath his boot, fingers pinching its neck just like he's been taught. He keeps the thrashing creature at his side as he marches over to duck his head under your kitchen faucet, rinsing and spitting ten times just to get the taste of blood out of his mouth.
Your sniffling brings Wayne out of his shell-shocked trance, and he looks away from where Eddie is gulping down water, "Uh, the phone?"
"There," You raise a shaky arm, your non-bloody one, to point at a wall mounted phone, "Am I gonna be okay?"
"You'll live." Wayne grunts, squeezing your shoulder as he lumbers past you to the phone, "Don't stress, kiddo."
Neither of the Munson men are especially proficient in comforting words, you suppose. But Eddie stalks back across the house to stand beside you, brandishing the snake in his hand that you shy away from.
"If you want," Eddie pants, water dribbling down his cheek, "I'll fling him for you. Like, into the fuckin' sun. I'm so sorry, Y/N, I really thought they were gone."
"it's okay," You sniffle rubbing at your tear-stained cheek with your clean hand, "I did, too."
"Gimme that," Wayne scoffs, yanking the snake away from Eddie's iron grip and wrestling him into a bucket, lid punctured with breathing holes, "Don't torment her."
"I'm not! I said I'd fling it," Eddie huffs, free hands now reaching for your injured arm, "Are you okay? Like, besides the snake bite."
"Yeah," You breathe, lungs empty and full at the same time, "Uh it- it hurts. But I'll be okay?"
"For sure," Eddie nods, his curls flying beneath his bandana, "They've got antidotes. You'll probably be home again before dinner. And I'll do another sweep," He looks down, sheepish, "Just in case."
"Thank you," You whimper, the soft, warm touch of his fingers on your arm comforting, "Could you ride in the ambulance with me?"
His eyes go wide, "You want me to?"
"Please," You urge, "I'm scared. And you know about this stuff; about snake bites. I need someone who knows what they're saying to tell me I'm not gonna die."
"Yeah," Eddie nods, breathless, "Yeah, I'll ride with you. Oh! And, uh, you're not gonna die."
"Thanks," You break into a smile, although it's muddled by the tears in your eyes and the quake in your voice, "Y'know, you're a shit exterminator, but you seem like a nice guy."
Wayne doesn't give Eddie a chance to laugh at your quip, piping in with a snort, "Yeah, I don't think he'll be taking over the family business anytime soon."
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fairydust-stuff · 3 months
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SSSVS Shen Jiu,fanfiction thoughts
So, I've heard some discussion about how there are very few SJ fics where he repents, apologizes and how this angers people etc....
So my thoughts are, that's because atonement, being good was never the point of SSVS.
The system
SSVS isn't concerned with morality as much as how much you give into the system. SJ dies because he stopped fighting the role he was assigned he excepted being the scum villain. It's not just about how he abused a child. He did this due to a clear choice to stop trying to be good. After he failed to save his worst enemy. He accepted his role.
While it is a little annoying that SY gets to fight the system in Sj's place coming from an entirely different background without the trauma/ baggage that encourages those from lower classes to enforce the system.
He is none the less the one who starts to find ways around the system. He cheats and eventually gets rid of the system or at least not have to operate within its narrow confines. ( he's also not a good person but this thing is already too long).
LBH
A lot of fans forget this cause abused child, but um LBH has always been a hateful misanthrope who realized playing at being a white locus got you protection and sympathy.
Much like SJ he survived by lying. But while SJ pushed aside all weakness. LBH played it up for manipulation purposes. He was never a good person but LBH was always better at playing the system than SJ. (I argue LBH not being some white lotus still does not mean he should have been abused by SJ.) just pointing out that he's amoral.
Even SY looking at his flashbacks from his life with his mom called him a "blackened lotus" even then. a lot of fans like to blame the sword but even before he got his hands on it. LBH was always just a little bit off as a person. LBG is simply him with the gloves off and the claws and depression on display.
Furthermore even after getting SY love as LBM he never actually becomes a good person. He is ashamed because he raped SY but he never even tries to atone to Ning Ying or anyone else for murder, treachery, lying etc....
Because that was never LBH's arch, it was always about his place in the system, not his morality or how well he lived up to the role of ideal love interest. So many fans judge him through this lens but that's not the point.
LBH was born with more advantages,from the beginning due to being the protagonist. But this luxury came with a harmful role pushing LBH into a role where he was an ideal for other people. Despite the fact it made him miserable. Everyone including SY wanted a stallion protagonist a power fantasy. They could live though LBH just wants to be a house husband. He doesn't want to be emperor of the world.
LBH isn't a good person but he rejects the system and his role in it and seeks his own happiness.
Basically, why are SJ fanfic writers being asked to heap more judgment than other stans on our fav by our own of all people?
LBH gets to wish he could murder anyone who gets close to SY without invoking his wraith and be happy in his cottage-core life. Why isn't SJ allowed to do the same?
While I don't hate SJ atonement fics. Due to the nature of the novels, it's just not a requirement for me personally. Also sometimes, I just want to read about my favs without them being tortured and weepy for being bad people.
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