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highvern · 6 months

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Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives.

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?”

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.”

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary.

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :)

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s.

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.”

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically.

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?”

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time.

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?” Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.”

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?”

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.”

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?”

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again.

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect.

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company.

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.”

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them.

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter.

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television.

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body.

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation.

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again.

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel.

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between..

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm.

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure.

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in.

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it.

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge.

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again.

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover.

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered.

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough.

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence.

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine.

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut.

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts burned into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing.

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight.

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing.

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day.

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door.

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live.

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat.

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.”

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior drowsiness transforms into irritation.

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy.

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man.

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.”

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.”

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra.

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head.

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came.

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair.

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago.

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway.

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet.

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently.

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.”

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes.

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy.

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch.

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up.

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you.

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.”

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants.

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath.

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones.

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back.

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt.

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions.

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want.

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place.

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action.

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start.

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate.

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls.

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?”

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples.

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue.

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own.

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half.

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper.

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance.

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught.

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again.

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you.

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips.

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?”

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing.

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.”

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy.

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole.

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant.

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care.

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #svthub #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt smut #🫡 highvern

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angryschnauzer · 2 years

Text

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 5

Summary: Finding a new life in a new town, you stumble upon a Honey farmer at the town market. You both have pasts that have shaped the way you now live your lives, but can you find a way of putting them behind you to find happiness?

Pairing: ‘Lucas’ Syverson x Female Reader

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sandcastle (Movie).

Ongoing Genre: Fluff, Angst, and Smut

Story Warnings: Slight Angst, Talk of a car accident in the past, Anxious Sy, Mild Embarrassment, First Date Nerves, Kissing.

Chapter 5 Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Fingering, Grinding, Hot Tub Frolics, Handjob, Titty Sucking, Nudity.

Wordcount: 4421

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4,

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 5

The long grass of the meadow brushed against your legs as you walked the trail to Sy’s cabin. As your own house fell away in the distance the bright red roof of your destination crept closer, and you could see a small trail of smoke coming from a chimney at the back of the place, the wisps evidence of the slow burn of the wood that scented the air along with the natural flowers that grew all around you. Occasionally a pollen drunk bee would lazily fly past, as if making its way back home to the hive after an afternoon of indulgence.

As the field grew downhill the grass grew shorter, and you found a slightly chewed frisbee. Scooping it up you looked to the cabin and saw the furry owner of the frisbee standing on the gravel watching you. For a moment Akia just watched you, guarding her territory until you came closer and she picked up your scent, trotting towards you until you were greeted by her and she excitedly bounced around you whilst nudging the frisbee;

“You want me to throw it?”

A quiet bark answered you, to which you pulled your arm back and tossed it towards the cabin, Akia set off the second it left your grasp, leaping and catching it mid air. Stopping in the grass you watched her bring it back to you, eager for another go.

Sy had been putting the finishing touches to the casserole and sliding it into the oven when he’d seen Akia trot off of the porch and head to the meadow, looking into the distance he smiled when he saw you appear on the horizon. As you got closer he took in what you were wearing, instinctively licking his lips at the thought of the things he would like to do to you in the sundress you were wearing. What was it about sundresses that looked so innocent and cute, but that made guys want to get down and dirty to please a woman? He sighed before washing his hands and checking his reflection, smoothing down his beard before opening the cabin door and stepping out onto the deck.

Akia would play frisbee for hours given the chance, but for that moment Sy was enjoying the view as he watched you bend over and take it from the dogs mouth, before tossing it again. After a couple more throws he chuckled when he saw you fake throw in one direction before going in another, a loud bark immediately following as Akia quickly changed direction, snapping at the still flying frisbee just as it touched the long grass. She trotted back to you, long tendrils of grass in her mouth along with the frisbee, dropping it and trying to spit out the grass. He watched as you knelt in the grass and pulled the strands of grass out, stroking the dogs head. You looked up and saw Sy, your smile growing.

“Hey there Darlin’”

Sy stepped down from the deck, closing the distance and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close as he kissed you. He felt you relax in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck as you leaned into him. He couldn’t help it but he let one hand fall a little lower to rest on your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze and he was pleased to hear the hum that rumbled in your chest.

When the kiss finally broke Sy looked into your eyes and smiled;

“I could get used to welcome kisses like that”

“Me too”

Your answer and smile made his chest puff out a little, the confidence boost a welcome warmth in his soul;

“I was going to ask if you’d rather make out in the meadow or have the grand tour, but as Akia has decided to do her business in the grass how about the tour?” he said with a smile

Laughing you nodded your head, slipping your hand into his.

Standing in Sy’s kitchen you watched as he checked on dinner - Moussaka, a dish he’d discovered when he’d been moving through Greece after a tour in Iraq he’d explained - and you took the chance to watch him move fluidly through his home. He was comfortable in his own space, everything neat and orderly, regularly used items within easy reach, non essentials stacked in organised rows in the cupboards and closets.

“Are you sure there’s nothing i can do to help?” you asked

Sy turned and smiled;

“Why don’t you grab some cutlery and some drinks from the refrigerator? We can eat out on the deck”

“Sure, i can do that”

Having already seen where Sy got a fork from you pulled what you needed from the correct drawer, before heading to the refrigerator and peering in. You looked over the neatly stacked rows of drinks, taking in soda’s and bottles of beer, noticing for the first time that everything was non-alcoholic. A bottle of Rose wine in the door looked interesting, and upon checking the label you saw that was also without alcohol;

“Do you want wine or beer?”

“I’ll have a beer, but if you want to open the wine that’s fine”

“Thanks”

You grabbed both without any further comment. You could feel his eyes on you, perhaps waiting for a question or some sort of explanation, but in your mind you knew you had your secrets and no doubt Sy had his. You smiled at him and took both outside, setting them on the small table before returning to the cabin for the cutlery.

“Hey, you saw they’re both non alcoholic?” Sy asked, a slight pause as if he was going to say more

“Yeah, that’s fine”

You saw him visibly untense his shoulders as he relaxed and smiled, before grabbing some oven mitts;

“Why don’t you grab those plates as well and go get seated, i’ll be out in a second”

“Sure”

Sitting at the small table you watched as Sy emerged moments later carrying dinner with oven mitts, setting it down in front of you before he sat beside you;

“Hope you’re hungry”

“Starving. It smells amazing��

He served up sizeable portions for the pair of you before picking up his fork, only to curse and stand up;

“Forgot somethin’”

He ran into the cabin, returning seconds later with two large metal bowls in his hands, one considerably more dented than the other. His attention didn’t wane from you, a goofy smile on his face as he placed one on the table between you and the other on the ground, calling for Akia who came bounding up from the surrounding forest.

You looked into the bowl and had to hold back your laugh, Akia coming to a halt beside you before putting her ass on the ground and letting out a quiet ‘wuff’.

“What’s up girl?” Sy asked, his gaze not leaving you.

Clearing your throat you took hold of the bowl of kibble that was sat on the table, swapping it with the bowl of salad that Akia had refused;

“There we go”

The two of you fell silent for a moment before the giggles started, that soon turned into full on laughter, before the tears started to flow down your cheeks. It took a considerable amount of time to finally compose yourselves, taking a deep breath and letting out a long audible sigh as Sy was first to speak;

“I’m sorry, I guess i’m just a little nervous”

Sliding your hand over his you smiled at him;

“Me too. Its been a long time since i got this close to someone. I’m so far out of the dating scene i don’t know what the expectations are or what is acceptable on what date…”

Sy lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm;

“You have no idea how happy that makes me, as i’m so fucking clueless too”

“Let's make a deal then”

“Go on”

“Complete honesty. About expectations, about our limits, about what we’re ready for”

“Deal” he leant forwards and pressed a kiss to your lips, his beard brushing against your cheek; “But first, lets eat”

The meal was fantastic, and once your initial nerves had dissipated you fell back into comfortable conversation, the sun setting and small solar lights illuminating the deck. When the pair of you cleared the table you suggested doing the dishes together, but Sy took your hand and led you back outside;

“I’ve got something to show you”

He led you down some steps towards the workshop, but took a turn at the edge of the deck until he was standing beside a large wooden tub that was filled with water, tendrils of steam rising;

“What you said about a bath that would always get cold make me think, i have the opposite at my place; a hot tub”

You looked at it, before stepping forwards and dipping your fingertips into the water;

“Ooh its warm, really warm! But i didn’t bring anything…”

“I have a solution for that”

“Sy… i’m not sure i’m ready for skinny dipping…”

He leaned behind a small stack of logs and pulled out a somewhat un-glamourous Walmart bag;

“I wanted you to try the tub but considered that too…”

You pulled a small garment from the bag, realising it was a soft two piece swimsuit;

“Sy…” you paused; “It’s the correct size…?”

“I may have gotten a glance at the label to your panties when your dress got caught before our date… I didn’t have chance to get to that nice boutique and its not open on a Sunday” he considered his words; “You don’t have to, but I wanted to give you the option” he sighed: “You know what, i’m sorry, i’m pushing you to do something you’re not comfortable with”

“Sy, wait” you rested a hand on his chest; “Can i feel how hot the water is?”

He took a step back and moved out of your way, before holding his hand out so you could step up onto the elevated platform around the circular tub. You tentatively dipped your finger in and you couldn’t help the appreciative groan that escaped your mouth;

“Okay. Okay I can do this, where can I get changed?”

“Bedroom is through the door next to the kitchen”

Sy had a huge smile on his face as you left, quickly making your way inside. Once in the cabin you followed his instructions and found the bedroom, taking in the tidy yet lived in space. A stack of t-shirts sat on a dresser as if there hadn’t been enough time to put them away, the bed had a red plaid flannel duvet on it, and instinctively you smoothed your hand over the soft fabric, wondering what it’d feel like against your skin. You were lost in thought for a moment before you remembered why you were there in the first place, quickly undressing before pulling the bikini out of the bag and removing the tags. It was just a simple blue two piece, the panties fitting comfortably, but you struggled with the straps you cursed the small pieces of fabric. It had been years since you’d worn a swimsuit, and even then had usually opted for a one piece. Eventually you got it on, catching sight of your reflection in a mirror you stopped and took in what you saw. For a moment you were focused on your flaws, but instead gave your head a shake and puffed your chest out, leaving the room.

As you approached the hot tub you saw that Sy had already climbed in, his shorts and t-shirt neatly folded on top of his shoes, a pile of soft fluffy towels next to them, and a small basket of his bath fizzers sat at the edge of the tub. He had his back to you which you had an idea that he’d done on purpose so that he didn’t make you uncomfortable;

“Hey” you called quietly as you approached, and he turned his head slightly, looking sideways at you and you saw a smile tug at his mouth as his gaze followed down your body and back up again.

“Wow” he stood and offered you his hand to help you in, and you couldn’t help but to look him up and down.

Sure, you’d seen him without a shirt before, but there he was standing before you, dripping wet with just his boxer briefs on, and to say he was a fine specimen of a man would be to completely understating it. He was thick with muscle, a layer of chest hair that led down to his stomach and enticingly into the waistband of his underwear. His thighs were bigger than you could have imagined when you’d seen him in jeans, strong and taught from hard work. You tried not to stare as you climbed in, but the crowning glory was the bulge between his legs, the wet jersey fabric clinging to everything mother nature blessed him with, and you instinctively licked your lips.

“You want me to turn around so you can see my ass too?” he asked when you were attempting to swing your other leg over the side of the tub

“What? OH!”

Sy’s comment had caught you off guard, slipping and toppling into the water, pulling him with you. You felt strong arms on your torso and were immediately pulled above the water, pulling you to his chest as you gasped in panic;

“You’re ok. You’re ok, I’m sorry” he wiped your face down to get rid of the water droplets, your heart pounding as you pushed back all the thoughts of being underwater. His steady breathing brought you back to the present, surrounded by the warmth of the water, but more so of his strong arms cradling you to his chest, safe and secure, protected.

He looked into your eyes, watching as you visibly calmed in his arms, before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to his. Sy moved you in the water until he was sitting on the submerged bench seat that ran around the inside of the tub, pulling you to straddle his lap. The kiss deepened, your tongue pushing against his, his beard tickling your face. His hands slid down your back before he splayed his palms over your ass, pulling you hard onto his lap and it was then that you could feel him, his hard length against your core. Moving your hips you rocked against the hard bulge, breaking away from the kiss your head rolled back and you closed your eyes, relishing the feel as your bodies moved together, his hard shaft pressing into the seam of your pussy through the thin bikini bottoms. He grunted beneath you, wrapping his arms around your torso as he pressed kisses down your chin to your neck, pulling a low groan from deep in your belly;

“Oh god Sy, don’t stop…”

You felt his lips curl into a smile against your skin;

“You like that? Or do you like this?” he pushed his hips up and you felt the wide heart shaped tip of his dick rub against your clit through the fabric

“Oh… both… definitely both”

You held his face in your hands, staring into his eyes as you rocked your hips against him, the connection intense. He wasn’t even inside you but you were pulsing with need and pleasure, writhing together like two horny teenagers. Without breaking eye contact you felt Sy move one hand and cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple and you gasped at his touch.

“I’d really like to take this off” he said, referring to your bikini top, and you nodded, biting your lip nervously as he pulled at the tied strings behind your back before lifting the scraps of fabric over your head and tossing it aside. It was his turn to lean back as he admired your chest, his hands on your sides so his thumbs could brush against the underside curve and cup them;

“Beautiful” he muttered as he leant forwards, capturing one nipple in his mouth. His tongue was soft as he sucked lightly, his beard brushing against your soft skin, before he pressed kisses over your sternum and did the same with the other nipple; “Stunning” he muttered, as if he felt he needed to rain equal amounts of praise on each breast. He pressed his face between them and sighed;

“That’s it” he said, his voice slightly muffled; “You’re staying here. Forever. I’m staying in this spot between your titties until the end of time”

“Sy” you called his name but not sure for what, but then you felt his hand slide down your stomach and rest against your clothed pussy. You’d shifted your bodies apart without realising and he now had access to rub his thick fingers over your mound, his thumb pushing the fabric against your lips and bumping against your clit.

“Oh, there it is…” he moved his hand, his fingertips tentatively rubbing beneath the side elastic; “Can i?”

“Yes… yes Sy”

“Cos when you said you liked my hands… i’m guessing this is what you wanted me to do with them?”

You nodded, the hot water surrounding you as you felt completely exposed yet protected at the same time. You felt him gently tug the fabric to the side and one thick finger tenderly slid through your folds, seeking out your clit and giving it a gentle rub, before moving down and teasing your entrance.

“If you want me to go further i’m gonna have to suggest we take these off”

You nodded;

“Only if you take yours off too”

“Oh good, because i like your hands too” he said with a grin.

In the water you pushed your bodies apart as Sy tugged your bikini bottoms down and tossed them aside, before shimmying out of his briefs which followed suit. He moved you in the water until you were straddling his lap again, one of his massive hands cupping the back of your neck as he kissed you, an urgent need to his touch this time as his tongue pushed and danced against your own. His other hand slid between your thighs, teasing at your folds before his thumb found your clit as he traced around your hole with a thick finger.

“Relax for me Sweetness, i can feel how tightly wound you are right now, let me make you feel good”

Closing your eyes you let out a deep breath as Sy breached your body, his finger tenderly pushing into your soft canal as his thumb rubbed circles against your clit;

“So good for me baby, I can feel you squeezing me tight, gotta relax Sweetness, i just got one finger in you, how you ever gonna take two if you don’t relax?”

Opening your eyes you stared deeply into his, the connection between you almost electric as you felt your body loosening and getting used to such intimate touch after such a long time. You felt invigorated and alive, but most of all you wanted to touch as well as be touched. Placing a hand on Sy’s chest, you slid it down below the water until it was on his lower stomach;

“Is this ok?” you asked

“Oh god Sweetheart, if you don’t take hold of him he may just burst”

Sy gave you a reassuring smile as you reached lower and touched him for the first time, tenderly wrapping your hands around his hard shaft;

“Oh… you’re… you’re so hard, and thick”

“That’s all for you Sweetheart”

You slowly ran your fist up and down the length of him, and at the same time he doubled his efforts with his own hand, grinding the palm of his hand against your clit as he moved his fingers and you felt him slide two inside you, stretching you.

“That’s is Sweetheart, ride my hand, take what you need, let me help you get there”

From that moment it was all about your pleasure. As much as you wanted to make Sy cum, he was so focused on you that it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the way he was taking you to heights of pleasure you weren’t sure you’d ever been taken to. His efforts were strong and consistent, he listened to your moans and if he liked what he heard he kept doing what he was doing, and for the first time in a very long time you could feel an orgasm approaching that wasn’t from your own hand;

“Sy… oh please, yes…”

“Oh Sweetheart, you look so beautiful, cum for me, let me feel that beautifully pussy squeeze my fingers so hard”

He ducked his head down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, the jolt of pleasure that surged through you the trigger for your orgasm, and you came with a moan, clutching his arm as you shook at his touch.

As your orgasm faded away he slowed his efforts, before finally withdrawing his fingers, brushing your clit as he did which sent a shiver up your spine.

“You look like an angel when you cum, you’re positively glowing”

For a few moments longer you were speechless, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm before you shifted, wrapping one arm around Sy’s shoulders as the other delved beneath the water;

“Sy, let me do the same for you”

He caught your hand;

“Shhh, you don’t need to use your hand, let me just feel those pussy lips against me, I don’t need to be inside you”

“What if i want you inside me”

He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose;

“Not tonight, I want to eat that pussy before i cum in it, plus you’re gonna need to be a whole lot more stretched and relaxed before i get inside you”

He brought your hand up over his shoulder with the other one, before grasping your hips and pulling your body flush with his. His dick was still rock hard, you could have sworn you could almost feel it pulsing with need as he pulled your legs up higher so he could open you up, and with a little manoeuvring he was able to rest his dick along your slippery folds. The wide crown rested against your clit snugly, the fat head bumping against you as you both started to gently rock against each other. You could feel pleasure starting to build in the pit of your belly, and when you looked up you could see Sy was barely hanging on.

Sy had his head leant back, and you felt his hands grip your hips a little firmer, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he took control and used your body for his own pleasure. He looked so good with his neck stretched, and instinctively you leant forwards and pressed kisses to his jugular;

“That’s it Sy, i’m so close too, rub that fat dick of yours against my pussy… I can’t wait until i can feel you inside me, pumping me full of your cum. I want you to bend me over and spank my ass whilst you fuck me, hold my titties as you fill me up…”

“Oh sweet jesus…” he cursed.

You weren’t sure where your dirty mouth had come from, you had never spoken like that before, you’d kept those thoughts to yourself, but there was something about seeing Sy so close and so vulnerable that made you be honest and true to yourself and your desires. That rush of confidence was what you needed to bring you to your peak again, and as you felt Sy start to cum your second orgasm of the night pulsed through you.

“God… Sweetheart, you feel so good, i can’t wait to get my dick inside you, I want to taste that pussy and make you cum over and over until you can’t walk the next day. You’re so beautiful when you cum, not that you’re not beautiful the rest of the time, oh girl, I fucking… I lo…” his words trailed off as he finally finished cumming, almost catching himself before he said something he wasn’t sure if he could say yet.

Resting your head on his shoulders you pressed a kiss to his cheek;

“You’re amazing Sy”

For the longest time you just held each other, the warm water bubbling around you, before eventually a shiver ran down your spine.

“Time to get out?” Sy asked; “Sounds like the burner has worked through the logs. Did well though, it’s dark now”

Looking up you hadn’t realised the sun had fully set, the starry sky visible directly above you through the tall pine trees.

“I should…”

Sy cut you off; “Please stay the night. Let's wake up together”

You paused before nodding; “Okay”

Sy was first to climb out, a waterfall of droplets falling around him as he stepped out of the hot tub and grabbed a towel, and you couldn’t help but to look at his body, admiring his pert ass before he wrapped a towel around his waist and held one up for you;

“C’mon, out” he commanded playfully; “I’ve already seen everything… and cum on it, show me those titties and that ass”

With his humour putting you at ease you climbed out, Sy wrapping the towel around you before putting his arm around your shoulders;

“Lets get dry and into bed”

Minutes later you were curled up beneath the soft flannel covers as Sy called Akia in and made her comfortable in her basket. He appeared in the doorway and grinned at you, before turning the lights out and you felt him slide under the covers, his body warm where he just wore soft jersey shorts. His arm curled over your hip and pulled you close, the big spoon to your little spoon. You felt his hand tuck under the t-shirt he’d loaned you;

“May I?” he asked sleepily

“Ok”

You felt his hand cup your breast gently; “Mmm, life is good when you can fall asleep holding a titty”

He soon dropped off to sleep, not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, but it was a long time before you joined him in slumber, your mind playing over so many things before you finally shut your eyes and sleep came.

Chapter 6 >>>

#as sweet as honey #syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #sy x reader #henry cavill

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gothcsz · 4 months

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VIIII.

GIF CREDIT

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: After months of dancing around their emotions, Javier and Paloma finally address the tension between them head-on.

WORD COUNT: ~9.2k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: smuttt, bulge riding, dry humping, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being an asshole, angst, crime talk (if it's not accurate don't @ me), descriptions of violence against women, vomit mention, slut shaming(?), detective!javi is very gorgeous ME, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: we did it… we did it joe !! javi and OFC finally [REDACTED] !! thank u to everyone who has been keepin up w this foolery so far, it makes my lil heart happy to see engagement < 3 also wanna say that years of watching criminal minds is finally starting to pay off and i rly hope u guys are enjoying the crime aspect of the plot because i'm havin A LOT of fun writing and developing it !! shit is gonna get twisted and intricate so brace yourselves for where we're about to go !!! the smut in this chapter is heavily inspired by touch it by ariana grande so i def recommend giving that a listen bc i feel like it just fits their vibe so well (i may or may not have used some of the lyrics in the dialogue.. oop!) last thing sooo irrelevant but mayor abbott looks like jonathan bailey (bridgerton hive RISE!!) in my head so take that as u will xoxo always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

As the sun casts its golden rays over the quiet outskirts of town, a grim discovery awaits the two men. The body of Jessica Valdez, the young girl reported missing from their neighboring town, lies lifeless in a shallow ditch. Javier stands beside Sheriff Leighton, their expressions grave as they survey the scene before them.

Reporters and curious onlookers have gathered, drawn by the spectacle of flashing lights and the somber atmosphere. A small group of people whisper amongst themselves, their hushed tones mingling with the distant sound of camera shutters clicking.

Romeo’s authoritative presence looms beside him, a pillar of strength in the face of another tragedy. His eyes narrow as they push through the gathered crowd, commanding respect and order in the chaotic scene.

They duck beneath the yellow crime scene tape, ignoring the questions being hurled at them by the press.

“Are there any indications of a motive for this murder?”

“Is this connected to the similar incidents in the area recently?”

“Is there anything the public can do to assist with the investigation?”

Javier’s stomach churns with sorrow as he takes in the sight. The body lies face down and sprawled in the dirt. He clenches his jaw, steeling himself against the wave of frustration threatening to overwhelm him.

Another failure on their behalf and all he can think about is the kiss shared between him and Paloma.

“Talk to us, Cecelia.”

“Well, at first glance: the body is still fairly warm so she was alive a few hours ago. It looks like she was held captive somewhere due to the bruising on her wrists and ankles. There are signs of malnourishment and she has smaller injuries scattered throughout her body. I won’t know more details until I do the autopsy.” The coroner answers before continuing,” Her chest is completely slashed through, just like all the others. Still our guy. Or girl–– you never know nowadays.”

Javier’s jaw flexes out of exasperation, mirroring the heavy sigh that escapes the sheriff’s lips. The weight of this repeated revelation settles over them like a suffocating blanket, casting a shadow over their efforts to uncover the truth.

Despite their tireless pursuit of justice, they find themselves no closer to catching the culprit or unraveling the mystery shrouding these towns. It’s fucking infuriating.

Amidst the tangled threads of his personal life, Javier has momentarily lost sight of his purpose for being here. He has been too immersed in his own character transformation and entanglement with Paloma, overlooking the harrowing reality unfolding around him: innocent women continuing to fall victim to brutal, senseless violence.

The gravity of his oversight has a mixture of guilt and despair settling deep within his chest.

Javier prides himself on his prowess, his ability to navigate the most intricate of cases and weather the toughest of storms. As a seasoned field agent with a string of accolades to his name (some undeserved, others very well deserved), he’s faced down challenges that would make others quiver.

Yet here he stands, feeling utterly impotent in the face of this whodunit in the confines of a sleepy town.

It gnaws at him, this sense of inadequacy, like a persistent itch he can’t scratch. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a humbling reminder of the unpredictable nature of crime and the limits of his own expertise.

He needs to be better.

“What’s interestin’, though, is this,” She stands, motioning for the two men to follow her and they share a look before wordlessly complying. Cecelia hands them both a pair of latex gloves, instructing them to put them on.

They make it a few feet away from Jessica’s body and that’s when Javi sees it.

“Is that vomit?”

Cecelia nods, “It is. I’m betting it’s hers. The interestin’ bit isn’t that she vomited–– but the contents. Take a look. Tell me what you see.”

Javier is the first to kneel with Romeo looking over his shoulder. He eyes the evidence, pushing his aviators to the top of his head, making out the larger chunks in the grossly colored bile.

He can’t discern what it is right away and Cecelia encourages him to use his hands, which has him looking at her ludicrously and muttering how gross this shit is in Spanish before doing as suggested.

Poking his latex clad fingers in the mess, Javi analyzes the contents and that’s when he sees a symbol marked in ink on one of the scraps.

“It’s flesh. Human flesh.”

Shit. He sees it now, the mark is a tattoo and he quickly barks out an order to have one of the lingering deputies come take pictures of it.

“Son of a bitch is feedin’ people… people. Would explain Nina Thorton’s missin’ leg. What the fuck is goin’ on here?” The sheriff sounds defeated and Javier just remains silent as he mulls over all this new information that’s been revealed.

Kidnapped, held hostage, fed human flesh, murdered, dumped.

All the other victims up until now have only been taken then killed. None of them held captive for long. Not all of them consuming flesh.

But then there’s Nina and her postmortem severed leg.

Fuck, the answer is right there, interwoven in the intricacies and lack of details in the cases.

No more fucking around, no more helping girls sneak back inside their homes, no more distractions. He has to focus on doing his job.

He will catch who did this, he will prove himself to be qualified to do what he was brought here to do.

Javier remains kneeled and deep in thought as Romeo and Cecelia continue on with their observations. He looks around to study their surroundings, wondering if there is anything else that is right in front of him that he cannot see.

“Three outta five have been brunettes around the same age. I think that’s something worth considering now,” Javier breaks up the conversation betweens the sheriff and coroner, both of them turning to look at him as he stands from his kneeled position and begins to take off the gloves,” Seems like they found their type. There’s got to be a purpose for the consistent victimology.”

They’ve migrated over to Jessica’s body now, both men doing last minute look overs before she is transported back to her hometown for her parents to identify and for Cecelia to preform the autopsy.

When a deputy comes over to take the last bits of photo evidence, he looks sickly but Javier ignores it. It’s not until her body is turned upright, exposing her mauled chest, that has the younger officer hurling over and throwing up, some of it landing on Romeo.

“God fuckin’ damn it, Andrews, spew that shit elsewhere. Fuck, not only are you contaminatin’ the crime scene but you got it all over my damn pants.”

The sheriff goes on a tangent, chewing the officer out and threatening to suspend him for two weeks with no pay. It’s harsh, Javier will admit, but he doesn’t say anything, remaining stoic with his arms crossed against his chest as he watches it unfold.

Eventually, everyone trickles out. Even the nosey reporters and townies. Javier wants to stay, walk around the area to see if anything else was left behind. Maybe something was dropped or buried nearby, and while they had assured him that others have already done a thorough search–– he’d feel more comfortable if he did it himself.

“Ya mind stoppin’ by my place so I can change? Kid ruined these.” Romeo’s gruff voice has Javier losing his train of thought, too engrossed in looking out into the vast area of the woods as the sun slowly begins to set.

Right, they arrived together, driving from the station in Javier’s cruiser.

“Sure.” He replies plainly. His plans for the evening now include getting Romeo situated so that he can come back here and investigate all on his own. He might even drive to Fayette to retrieve the autopsy from Cecelia as soon as she completes it.

With the Leighton home being on the other side of town, this gives the two men time to talk the case over; going over all that they know and all that they’ve discovered. Romeo confides in Javier about feeling inadequate about the way he’s doing his job and, in a turn of events, Javier does the same. In his own way.

The mutual understanding is a relief, though the guilt of his kiss with Paloma is palpable and it makes Javi feel like a fraud.

Across from him is a man who has extended nothing but kindness and trust, offering camaraderie and a sense of belonging. Yet, despite this, Javier found himself drawn to his daughter in a way that was both exhilarating and forbidden.

It feels wrong, achingly so. A bitter realization that despite their mutual longing, their connection can never be fully realized. It’s a harsh wake up call: if he truly wants to better himself, he must shed his bad habit of losing himself in women and distance himself from her.

What a discomforting prospect, the inevitable separation. But he knows it’s the only way forward. He understands that in time, they will both resign themselves to the reality of their infatuation.

It’s a familiar ache, this sense of inevitability that haunts his romantic endeavors like a relentless specter. Javier knows the drill all too well; it’s not his first rodeo in navigating the treacherous terrain of severing emotional ties.

His love life feels like a series of missteps, a cursed labyrinth from which there’s no escape. Despite the initial allure of each new romance, he’s come to anticipate the eventual descent into disappointment. No matter how promising the beginning, the journey always seems to lead to the same desolate destination.

With him hurting them beyond measure.

Fuck the idea of reinventing himself here. He can find peace and monotony anywhere else.

Javier will follow through with his responsibilities, and the second he’s able to peel out of Seminary–– he will, leaving her behind as a bittersweet memory. A beautiful yet unattainable dream that he will carry with him for years to come.

As they pull in to the Leighton residence, he sees the woman that lives in his head perched up on the fence that surrounds the immediate area. Her baggy jeans are hanging low, exposing the sheer fabric of her underwear. She turns as she hears the sound of a car approaching, and her lips pull into a smile once she sees who it is.

Paloma fully expected to wake up the following day filled with regret and plagued by a hangover. The only thing she experienced was the latter, but it had quickly been nursed by a greasy breakfast and some yard work.

Javier had kissed her back, that was enough to feed into her delusions that he does want her. All inhibitions have been dropped, she’s prepared to lay herself out for him–– to tell him that she’s wanted him since the moment they met.

It might seem premature, an impulsive plunge into the uncertainty of his reaction to her feelings, but the tender memory of their shared kiss eclipses all rational thought. She finds herself irresistibly drawn to the possibility of something more, unable to resist the pull of her emotions.

His touch still lingers on her skin. His hands tracing the curves of her body with a hunger that left her breathless. She can still feel the way he had grabbed her ass then gripped onto her hips, pulling her closer to him.

But it was his mouth that left the strongest impression. His tongue had explored the depths of hers, tasting and teasing her with a ferocity that made her feel alive.

In that moment, she had felt desired, cherished, and wanted. It was a feeling that she hadn’t realized she craved so badly until last night. She knew that she would never be able to forget that kiss and the way it had made her feel.

She’s giddy, her excitement bubbling up like fizzy soda, reminiscent of the first time she ever kissed a boy. Except Javier isn’t a boy–– he’s a man. A man whose expertise and skill are a potent aphrodisiac, heightening her arousal to levels she never thought possible.

She’s been hot for him all day, even touched herself to the memory of his soft lips, the tickle of his mustache, against hers then imagining them everywhere else. The mere thought of it is enough to send her heart racing, and she knows that nothing will satisfy her until she has him in her arms again.

Romeo gets out the car, muttering that he’d be right back and Javi opts to stay put. He does not want to speak to her, knowing that the second he gazes into those beautiful brown eyes–– he’d buckle. He needs to build animosity between them; it’s the only way for them to definitively be able to separate from one another.

But she doesn’t make it easy, of course. Because the second her father is inside, she’s practically skipping over to the driver’s side of the cruiser.

“Hello officer. Here to bring me in for all those crimes I committed last night?” She teases as she leans her forearms against the rolled down window, the cowgirl hat perched on her head complimenting her so well.

Javier swallows thickly, taking a lengthy drag of the familiar cigarette between his lips. He can’t outright ignore her so he decides to be short instead.

“M’not here for games, Paloma.”

She’s taken aback by his tone, her smile faltering.

“Well excuse me for tryin’ to make conversation. Wasn’t aware that you’re in a mood today.”

There’s a pause despite her attempt to add a teasing tone to her words to lighten him up. It falls flat.

“And I’m not looking to have a conversation. You can go.”

Her brows cinch together at his dismissal, this is not how she was expecting for this to go.

“What’s goin on’? Is this because we… because of the kiss last night?” She lowers her voice towards the end, red blooming across her cheeks but she keeps her composure.

“Jesus,” Javier chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. It sends a sharp pang through her heart.” Why do you always think that’s the fuckin’ problem whenever I don’t want to talk to you? For someone who claims to be a grown woman all the time, you sure as shit don’t act like it.”

She stills, the buoyant confidence that had propelled her toward him evaporating in an instant, replaced by a wave of hurt at his unexpected chilliness. What has gotten into him?

“Drop it and move on, Paloma. We just found Jessica Valdez’s body dumped out in a ditch. S’not the time to be hung up on a damn kiss.”

The sound of the screen door shutting close breaks her away from him and the trance she’d seemingly gone into. Another victim, another tragedy to confront… and here she is acting like a smitten teenaged girl.

The urge to cower and crawl into herself, to surrender to the overwhelming embarrassment and sorrow, threatens to engulf her entirely. She remains silent, fighting back the surge of frustrated, angry tears as she pushes off the car and trudges back toward the house.

Javier exhales heavily once she strides away without a word, feeling a weight settle on his shoulders. He had braced himself for a snide remark or some form of verbal retaliation, but her silent departure was far more impactful.

“I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.” Her father murmurs as he passes her, planting a tender kiss atop her head. He lingers there for a moment but she doesn’t question it, knowing it’s because of what they found today and she doesn’t even mind that he hasn’t told her about it.

As he breaks away, she conjures up a semblance of a genuine smile, masking her turmoil, and nods before he affectionately pinches her nose and continues on his way.

She doesn’t look back, she doesn’t cry or go inside–– instead she picks up her discarded gardening gloves and proceeds to channel her energy into the simple act of mowing the grass.

She finds herself alone at the open bar as the party continues in full swing. It’s been days since Jessica’s death, and the tense conversation she had with Javier still lingers in her mind.

“Drop it and move on, Paloma.”

Unlike the last time they went without speaking, there is much more tension between them now. The worst part about it is having to act as if nothing is wrong in the presence of her father.

No daddy, everything’s fine! It’s not like I threw myself at your co-worker not once, but twice and both times he made me feel like a fucking idiot!

She lets out a disdainful sigh, her fingers curling around the glass containing her coveted cherry root beer since she’s decided to part ways with alcohol and any other substance for the time being.

The two men are busy mingling with other guests and have been since the moment they arrived. Despite her efforts to divert her gaze elsewhere, her eyes keep involuntarily drifting towards Javier’s broad figure.

The event had called for formal attire, so when he strode in wearing a meticulously tailored all-black suit, her breath caught in her throat. The sharp lines of his outfit, coupled with the crispness of his button-down and the matching tie, made her momentarily forget why she was so upset with him. He looked too damn handsome.

It’s brutal how the things we desire most often seem to radiate the brightest when they’re just out of reach.

Observing him mingle effortlessly with others is entertaining. Contrary to her expectations, he appears completely at ease in this bustling social setting, a far cry from the disdain he expressed for large gatherings that morning in his kitchen.

He’s acting a lot more extroverted and… smile-y. It pisses her off as much as it melts her heart.

They make their way over to her and she makes a point to not even look in his direction. Though now she’s caught between her father and Javier as they order another round of drinks.

It really doesn’t help that they’re shoulder to shoulder. The heady aroma of his cologne, laced with the familiar tang of cigarette smoke and the faint hint of whiskey, infiltrates her senses, making it impossible to outright ignore him.

Javier Peña is like a blazing beacon and she’s the foolish moth drawn inexplicably closer to his flame. But she knows all too well the danger of getting too close, like a moth singed by the heat, the allure of his brightness can be killer.

Javier had assumed that with news of Jessica being found dead, their attendance to this party wouldn’t be mandatory.

Well, he thought wrong. It is a cruel reminder of how life goes on, even when tragedy strikes.

Another dead girl, another over-the-top party.

Which is why he’ll give it an hour–– tops–– to shake whoever’s hand and meet whoever else, then he’d leave. It’s a simple plan, the only thing making it difficult for him is his proximity to the woman he’s desperately trying to cut ties with.

She looks so beautiful tonight, donning a calf length simple black dress that hugs all her curves just right.

“There they are! My Law and Order! Y’all keepin’ the townsfolk in line?” The boastful voice of Mayor Jonah Abbott draws near and Javier suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.

Foolish of him to think he wouldn’t have to interact with the titular birthday boy tonight.

He greets both men with a firm handshake, and when his attention turns to her; Javier has to drown the subtle spark of frustration with his drink at the way his eyes rake over her body.

“And of course, Miss. Paloma. They say a smile is worth a thousand words, but yours? It’s worth a million dreams.” He brings her hand up to his lips to plant a kiss against her knuckles and all she does is offer him a polite smile. Here we go…

“Mr. Abbott—”

“Jonah, sweetheart. Been tellin’ you to call me that for years now.”

Her smile threatens to twitch out of annoyance, “Jonah. Happy Birthday. Thank you for invitin’ us to your home.”

“Always a pleasure to have you ’round. I heard about your performance up in Dallas. Shame I missed it. Woulda loved to hear that beautiful voice of yours and seen you up on that stage.”

Javier can’t help the subtle grunt he emits at the mayor’s overt flirtation, causing for her to just briefly glance up at him with a bemused flash crossing her stare.

The familiarity of Jonah’s behavior strikes a chord within him. Once upon a time, Javier was just like this–– an arrogant charmer with a penchant for flirting with anything in a skirt. Standing here amidst the other man’s smooth talk, he sees through the facade with clarity born of experience.

It’s a performance, an act to charm his way in between Paloma’s legs, though Javi can clearly see that she’s not falling for it. Does Romeo notice it too, he wonders? Or is he blinded by the mayor’s charisma, unable to see that this man clearly wants to sleep with his daughter.

Then again, Javier’s opinion on this is irrelevant and invalid since he too has been in the same predicament since meeting her. At least he didn’t do it blatantly in front of the sheriff’s face.

Or, in a turn of events, perhaps Romeo doesn’t give a damn. Jonah Abbott presents himself as a viable candidate to be with his daughter; a young politician with deep pockets and a keen interest in her.

Javier can’t shake off the mental picture of the man’s wedding ring adorning her finger, of her transforming into the perfect, submissive wife, tending to the household and filling this place with snot nosed kids. But such a scenario doesn’t align with her fiery and headstrong nature. She’s far too independent and spirited to succumb to the confines of domesticity, particularly for a man like Jonah.

Then again, why the fuck does he care?

“Well as you know, I do two shows every weekend at The Whiskey Fox. Could always stop by and see me and the band.”

“A busy man like myself always has a full schedule. Though I reckon I should make some time to be out in the community. Wouldn’t hurt to stop by for dinner and a show.”

He winks at her and of course he does it when her father turns to order himself another drink. Javier’s jaw flinches.

“Now Romeo, why have you been keepin’ this badass motherfucker hidden from me? I knew we had someone new joinin’ the force but I didn’t think it’d be the Javier Peña. A goddamn American hero— right here in Seminary, Texas!”

As Jonah begins his praises, pairing them with a harsh slap to his shoulder, Javier remains cool and calculating. He refuses to be swayed by empty compliments.

Meanwhile, she breathes a silent sigh of relief as the spotlight shifts away from her, and she finds it amusing at how everyone seems to talk about Javier.

A hero. A true patriot. Such a brave soul for fightin’ the war on drugs on Uncle Sam’s behalf.

If only they knew the truth––if they had even a glimpse of the darkness he’s had to face, they wouldn’t be so quick to idolize him.

The label of hero, bestowed upon him since the demise of Escobar, sits uneasily on his shoulders. The adulation feels like a burden he never asked for, a title he never wanted. It’s a reminder of the complexities of his past, the mistakes he’s made, and the ghosts that continue to haunt him. Javi despises the word, resenting the way it overshadows his true self and the countless sins he harbors in silence.

“Gotta keep ’em humble. Keeps the head on straight.” Romeo banters back, pulling one of those haughty, rich men laughs from the mayor.

She cringes at the pretentiousness echoing in the air.

The men break out into small talk leaving her feeling awkward as she swirls the almost fully melted ice around the empty cup. It’s not until Jonah is getting ready to move on to a new set of guests that the attention is turned back to her.

“And you, pretty girl, owe me a song. Specifically that one Linda Ronstadt song from the Fourth of July barbecue last year. Remember? S’only fair… consider it a birthday gift from you to me.”

Despite her inner discomfort, she maintains a face of cheerfulness, though her stomach sinks with apprehension at his request. Memories of the barbecue flood her mind, vivid recollections of his relentless pursuit despite her repeated, albeit polite, refusals.

The word ’no’ is on the tip of her tongue, but knowing all too well the persistence he’s exhibited before; she succumbs to the weight of the occasion—his birthday—and the anticipation in his eyes.

“Blue Bayou, I remember. Does the band know it?” She inquires, her gaze flickering towards the live band stationed near the open area of the dance floor where a throng of people sway to the music.

She’s secretly hoping that they don’t, but the song is very popular so her hope dwindles.

“If they don’t, they will. I’ll introduce you when it’s time.”

With a tight and forced smile gracing her lips, she simply replies, “Okay,” accompanied by a subtle nod. His wicked grin spreads larger, almost daring Javier to react by punching him square in the jaw.

Regardless of how he feels towards her and their situation, it irks him to no end how this man blatantly disregards her boundaries.

Her body language screams apprehension, evident to anyone observant enough. However, Mayor Abbott is too fixated on persuading her to comply with his wishes to take notice. It’s apparent that he’s not accustomed to hearing the word ’no’.

Javi just holds his tongue, an insult threatening to slip out, as he finishes his drink with a practiced air of nonchalance.

The mayor finally says his goodbyes before walking away and her shoulders drop instantly.

“Guess I owe ya twenty bucks.” Romeo mutters, digging into his suit pocket for his wallet.

The laugh she gives, though slight, simultaneously soothes and torments his heart.

Damn it all— this is going to be torture but he must endure.

“She bet that he was gonna pull somethin’ like this before leavin’ the house. I was dumb enough to think he wouldn’t.” He explains to Javier as he slips his daughter the twenty dollar bill which she slyly stuffs under the fabric of her dress by her chest.

The action, seemingly simple, is so hot to him.

“How many times do I have to say m’not a damn show pony that does tricks whenever it’s asked? He’s so lucky that I’m polite and that it’s his birthday— If not I woulda told him to shove it—-” She doesn’t finish her sentence as they’re approached by a group of people that she doesn’t recognize nor care for.

She feels like an afterthought as they bombard the men with questions about the recent cases and other related topics, so she takes that as her cue to leave, ordering another mocktail before slipping away towards the dance floor.

She is fully prepared to turn her brain off to enjoy some semblance of normalcy before she’s thrown back in to the confusing pit that is her current status with the former DEA agent.

Attempting to convince herself that she’s enjoying the moment, she sways to the lively rhythm of the music, lost in her own solitary dance. A few partygoers approach her asking to join her which she declines; peeved by all the unwanted attention she’s getting.

This isn’t even her party. She holds no merit here.

Javier only catches glimpses of her from his peripheral, engrossed in a conversation with a man who remembers him from his sheriff days in Laredo, before he left for Colombia. The discourse drones on, punctuated by forced laughter and idle pleasantries. Each word falls flat, devoid of substance, yet Javier remains steadfast. Anything to keep him and his mind away from her.

Suddenly, the screeching sound of microphone feedback reverberates off the opulent walls of the ballroom-style space and she winces at noise.

“Excuse me, sorry–– I’m not very good with these things.” The man of the hour apologizes, his voice crackling through the speakers. She inwardly curses, anticipating what’s to come next. Setting her now-empty glass down on one of the nearby tables, she smooths her hands along the velvety fabric of her dress, ironing out any wrinkles, and hastily fixes her hair as best as she can without a mirror.

With a deep breath, she pushes down her nerves, summoning a smile to face the adversity when he introduces her. She steps onto the stage, the room erupting into scattered applause as she approaches the microphone.

♫

Midway through the song, to her surprise, Jonah joins her on stage, transforming the solo performance into an unexpected duet. Despite her inner discomfort, Paloma maintains a composed expression and tries to conceal any hint of surprise in her body language as he draws nearer.

Her unease heightens when he pulls her close against him, the heat of his body against hers as they sway to the rhythm of the music during the instrumental interlude of the country song. She reluctantly complies, her compliance more a result of avoidance of potential consequences than genuine willingness to dance with him.

The sight of his possessive grip on her waist, pulling her into an unwelcome dance, ignites a surge of vexation within Javier. He feels the tension in his muscles coil tighter with each step they take, their bodies moving in sync to the rhythm of the music. It’s unbearable to watch, the image of Paloma in Jonah’s arms twisting like a knife in his gut.

Without a word, Javier makes his escape, his strides purposeful as he navigates through the crowded room. He mutters a vague excuse to Romeo, the urgency in his voice betraying his need to flee from the suffocating scene unfolding before him.

Finally stepping out into the cooler night air, Javier takes a deep breath to soothe his frazzled nerves. He makes his way towards a gazebo that’s right by the large pond, putting as much distance as he can between himself and the party inside.

Leaning against the railing of the structure, he retrieves his trusty pack of cigarettes from his pocket, hands trembling slightly as he lights one. Each drag offers a fleeting moment of respite from the turmoil brewing inside him.

Inside, the song ends and she wastes no time in descending the stage, a sense of urgency propelling her movements. She refuses to linger, her mind consumed with the dread of another unwanted encounter with the mayor. Surveying the crowded room, she searches in vain for her father or Javier, but they’re nowhere to be found amidst the sea of faces.

Determined to escape the party atmosphere, Paloma makes a beeline for the exit, craving the solace of the summer night air. Stepping out onto the back porch, she inhales deeply, the breeze offering a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the event.

The night is alive with subtle sounds—toads croaking in the distance, the distant murmur of conversation—but it’s the solitary figure in the distance that captures her attention. With a sense of inevitability, Paloma finds herself drawn towards the silhouette, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she descends the steps leading to the gazebo.

When she approaches, Javier remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the tranquil expanse of water before him. The rhythmic puff of his cigarette punctuates the silence, a tangible barrier between them. Despite the tension hanging in the air, Paloma presses forward, her resolve unyielding as she closes the distance between them.

“We need to talk.”

He stands like a statue, the weight of her words are heavy, yet he remains resolute in his silence, hoping that she’ll simply give up and leave him be. But Paloma is nothing if not persistent, her frustration bubbling over as she confronts him.

“Fuck, Javier will you at least look at me?! Acknowledge that I’m standin’ here tryin’ to speak with you?!” Her voice crackles with pent-up emotion, her southern accent thick as each word is laden with an intensity that he can’t ignore.

Reluctantly, he turns his head slightly, his gaze skimming over her figure with resignation. It’s a small concession, but it’s enough to stoke the fire of her frustration to new heights.

“I dunno why you’ve decided to be such a jerk to me all of the sudden,” she continues, her tone laced with a raw edge of hurt and confusion. “You’re tellin’ me that I’m bein’ childish a-and that I need to move on from the kiss but we both know it’s so much bigger than that. We’ve been dancin’ around it since the moment we met and I’m tired of pretendin’ like I don’t want you.”

His eyes close briefly, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he retreats behind his stoic facade once more. His fingers find their way to the bridge of his nose, pinching tightly as he struggles to find the right words to respond. But before he can form a coherent thought, she presses on, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession.

“I told myself I wouldn’t care if you didn’t feel the same way,” She admits, her voice growing softer now, tinged with a hint of desperation. “But that was before I got to know you. Before you somehow wriggled your way into my heart and overtook my mind entirely. We became friends, and I-I didn’t want to screw that up. But then we kissed, and in that moment, I knew you wanted me just as badly…”

She draws closer, her hand reaching out tentatively to rest on his shoulder, the touch sending a jolt of tension through his body. It’s a silent plea, a manifestation of her vulnerability, and it’s all he can do to keep his composure still as her words wash over him like a hurricane.

“Every time I see you I don’t want to behave, Javi. I’m tired of being patient, so let’s pick up the pace and finally give in.”

He flicks his finished cigarette out into the water, the ember trailing like a shooting star before disappearing into the dark abyss below.

Slowly, he turns to face her fully, the summer air crackling with tension as he takes in her determined stance. His hand shoots out, grabbing hold of the wrist that had just been resting on him, his dark eyes boring into hers in an act of intimidation.

But Paloma doesn’t back down, her gaze unwavering as she meets his stare head-on. Instead, she brings her free hand up to rest against his chest, the heat of her touch seeping through the fabric of his shirt as she steps closer, closing the gap between them until his dress shoes are toe-to-toe with her pointed heels.

He doesn’t make an effort to step away or decline her advances, his resolve crumbling in the face of her determination. Her words have jumbled him up completely, the sudden revelation of her feelings catching him off guard and leaving him reeling. The direct mention of what they’ve been indulging in for the past few months digs into his achilles’ heel—his tendency to fall in love in the damndest of times.

He stares down into her eyes, a storm of conflicting emotions raging wildly. The lust swirling in her gaze stirs something primal and raw within him. Any rational part of his brain seems to shut down in that moment, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming desire to kiss her again, to lose himself in the exhilarating whirlwind of emotions that she evokes from him.

“It’s obviously insane, m’not a fucking idiot I understand the repercussions…. but we both know what we want, so why don’t we…” She whispers, tilting her head up until their lips brush against one another.

“Why don’t we fall in love?”

It’s not clear who makes the first move, but their lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss—a fierce collision of desire and pent-up longing that surpasses the one they had previously shared. Paloma’s hand on his chest clenches the fabric of his shirt while Javier relinquishes his grip on her wrist, his own hands rising to cradle her jaw in his palms.

The taste of the lingering cigarette smoke mingles with the faint bitterness of alcohol on his breath, a heady combination that heightens her desire. She moans softly into his mouth, her tongue intertwining with his in a desperate attempt to savor every fleeting moment before it inevitably slips away.

Javier, consumed by the intoxicating sensation, slowly walks her back until her back is against the sturdy pillar of the gazebo, his movements now possessive and urgent. He deepens the kiss, molding his body against hers as if to merge their souls into one.

Her touch is addicting, a bittersweet symphony that resonates in the depths of his bones. Despite the warnings screaming in the recesses of his mind, urging him to stop and pull away, he finds himself unable to resist the magnetic pull she exerts over him.

Breaking the kiss, Javier’s lips trail down the side of her mouth, blazing a trail of heated kisses along her jawline before descending to her neck. His teeth graze her delicate skin, resisting the urge to leave a trail of marks in their wake as his tongue traces a path along her neck and up to her earlobe, where he bites down gently.

“Is this what you wanted, nena? For me to shower you in my fucking attention?” He husks, his voice thick with desire and a hint of frustration. His words swim between them, a question laced with layers of longing and palpable need, as he continues to lavish attention upon her neck, each kiss and caress fueling the flames of their mutual desire.

Paloma just whines, arching herself into him as her thighs rub together to relieve the tension of arousal that is assaulting her core.

“Yes, Javi, that’s all I want. I want you to talk to me, to touch me, to make me feel good.”

Her hands are now against his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket as she feels the muscles beneath tense at her touch. A low, guttural groan escapes his lips in response to her words, a primal sound that sends shivers down her spine.

“I can make you feel good, hermosa. Better than any fucking culero (asshole) in this town.” He murmurs, his voice dripping with possessiveness. With deliberate intent, Javi begins to hike up her long dress, the fabric yielding easily to his touch until it’s gathered at the top of her thighs, exposing her black, lacey panties. His hands roam lower, trailing a path of electricity along her skin until they find purchase behind her thighs, gripping the soft skin firmly as he effortlessly lifts her into his arms.

She wraps her legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him as he hoists her up against the solid pillar of the gazebo. She feels his hardness pressing up against her clothed cunt and it has a sharp pang of pleasure sprouting at her core, igniting a fierce heat to course through her entirely. His touch is addicting, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through her body as she surrenders to the intrinsic urgency of their shared horniness.

The pure conviction in his tone only adds to the intensity of the moment. She wants nothing more than to be completely ruined by this man. She wants to be his, and his alone.

Javier grinds his hips up, the friction between them firing up every nerve ending. Her pussy throbs with need, aching for more of his touch. She can feel every inch of him pressing against her, his hard cock straining against his pants, begging to be released.

As their bodies move in perfect harmony, she wraps her fingers in his hair, tugging at it lightly. His lips move from her neck and crash against hers, a wild, passionate kiss that leaves them both panting for air. It grows more frenzied, their teeth clashing together in a desperate and selfish need for more. She moans into his mouth, the sound sending a jolt of electric arousal straight to his cock. He grinds harder against her, his hips moving in rhythm with hers.

She can feel her orgasm building, a fierce heat blossoming at her pussy. Her whimpers turn to animated moans as she writhes against him. The last time she dry humped someone to completion had been way back in high school and that had been an overall embarrassment so it’s never something she revisited.

Not until now, with Javier who is making her feel like she’s the only girl in the fucking world.

His fingers expertly cup her breast, teasing her hardened nipple through the fabric of her dress. She arches her back, pressing her chest into his hand, silently begging for more. He takes the hint, groping her and squeezing it gently, relishing in the way she shudders.

Her eyes close in ecstasy as he continues to knead her tit. His other hand trails along her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to the heat between her legs. When he finally reaches her core, she gasps, her body trembling with need. He doesn’t touch her, instead he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of her thigh.

“If this is what you wanted so fucking bad then go ahead and take it, needy girl. Go on, make yourself cum by grinding that wet pussy all over me.”

She mewls, throwing her head back as she feels her orgasm building. She’s such a sight to bear witness to, how her swollen lips part and his name slips from her tongue like a hymn, making his cock twitch.

Her wetness seeps through her flimsy thong, leaving a damp spot on the fabric of his dress pants. He can feel it seeping through the material and it drives him mad. He needs to be inside her, to feel her walls fluttering around his cock as they finally give in to each other…

But first, he wants to watch her unravel just like this.

“I’m close, Javi…” His lips hungrily devour the tender flesh of her neck again, making her eyes roll back as their hips continue to move at a sensual pace. The metallic zipper of his pants brushes against her sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. She can’t help but cry out in sweet surrender, her voice louder than before.

His large hand clamps over her mouth, preventing her screams from echoing out.

“Don’t get us caught, chiquita. Wouldn’t want your daddy comin’ out here and findin’ you like this–– all cockdrunk and begging to be fucked.”

His dirty and abrasive words are like fuel to the flames of her impending climax, sending her spiraling out of control. Her rhythm stutters, her body writhing uncontrollably as she bites down on the skin of his palm as the orgasm overtakes her entirely.

All that can be heard is their heavy, shared pants. His hand falls from her mouth as she falls limp in his arms, her body jolting every now and again with the aftershock of her intense orgasm.

She peppers tender kisses along the bare expanse of his jaw, silently berating him for having his shirt buttoned up for once and the pesky tie restricting her from licking and biting against the tantalizing skin of his neck and collarbone.

“Need… need to feel you, Javi, please.” She whines against his ear, her hands trailing down from his broad shoulders, over his chest, then down to his belt buckle. She can still feel the swell of him pressed up against her sopping cunt and despite just coming hard; she’s craving to feel all of him.

This is the pivotal moment where he knows he should exercise restraint, where the noble path of virtue beckons him to rise above the consuming tide of desire. To explain to her that they can and never will be anything but an unattainable fantasy.

But he doesn’t, instead Javi lets her untuck his dress shirt from his pants and helps her with unbuckling his belt.

“We shouldn’t do this, Paloma…” Is all he can say in an attempt to keep it from happening but she shushes him, her hand slipping beneath his boxers as she wraps her manicured fingers around his girth and begins to pump him slowly.

“Mierda,” He curses in Spanish, his forehead falling gently against hers as his eyes flutter close at the overwhelming feeling of her softer, smaller hand jerking him off. Her thumb glides over the tip, spreading his excessive precum over the length of his cock.

“But we want to… oh you’re so big Javi. Gonna be feelin’ you for days…” She sounds like something out of a wet dream and he simply can’t hold back any longer.

He instructs her to grab his wallet from his suit pocket and to retrieve the condom he keeps in there, receiving a playful eye roll from her but she doesn’t push her luck–– she needs him badly and she’d go absolutely feral if he decided to deny them both the pleasure of fucking.

His strong hold on her keeps them secure against the pillar, she rips the small package with her teeth then pushes his pants down enough to release his erection, rolling the latex on easily.

There’s a moment where suspension hangs in the air, both of them staring into each other’s lust blown eyes.

“Don’t think about it too much, please. Just fuck me.”

Her insistence is such a turn on, spurring him into reaching down to ball up the thin layer of her panties before he yanks them off, the sound of the fabric tearing apart causing her to gasp. Stuffing the ruined material into his back pocket, he readjusts his hips so that the thick head of his cock presses up against her exposed and puffy folds.

“Such an impatient little thing, hermosa. I shouldn’t even give you what you want. Should just walk away and leave you here a desperate and wet mess.”

Gripping onto the base of his cock with his free hand, Javier nudges it between her slit and teases her, the head repeatedly brushing against the pearl of her clit.

Her breath hitches, rolling her hips to entice him into entering her, “Please, Javi, I’ll do whatever you want just plea–– oh f-fuck!”

He sinks into her pussy, leaning forward to bite down on her shoulder to keep his own sounds of pleasure at bay as he feels the way her fleshy walls contract around his cock, stretching her with how thick he is.

Her fingers return to intertwine themselves in his hair as he begins to set a delicious pace, fucking into her with a passion that’s making her see stars. The feeling of his teeth digging into her skin is an added stimulant to the already immense pleasure.

“Damn it you’re so tight. Feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty girl. You satisfied now that I’m giving you what you want, huh?” He grunts out, nipping at her jawline as all she does is keen and moan, too overwhelmed with how good he’s making her feel. “Spoiled little thing, gonna fuck that right out of this tight little body. So you can learn, fuck, learn how not to be such a fucking pain in my ass.”

She’s too wrapped up in the feeling of him brushing up against her cervix to fully process what he is saying against her skin. Their lips slant over each other as they kiss messily, the way he fucks her making her brain melt.

There’s no thoughts up there, just the feeling of him as he continues to break her open with his delicious cock.

His hands fall down to her waist, holding on tightly as he goes from languid thrusts to a quicker, more brutal pace as they chase their orgasms.

She’s glad that they’re far away enough to where no one can interrupt this moment, though the idea of there being an onlooker does entice her more than she’d ever admit.

Her legs tighten around his waist, the pointed heel of her shoes digging into his backside as she feels a knot forming at the pit of her stomach, indicating that she isn’t far from coming undone.

“C’mon nena, be a good girl and let go,” His thumb finds itself being pressed against her soft lips and immediately she opens her mouth, licking around then sucking the digit and maintaining eye contact through it all. It has Javier grunting out a few expletives before letting his saliva coated thumb drop between them, rubbing tight circles against her clit.

This has her clenching around him and crying out, which causes a smirk to tug at his lips as he puts more pressure onto her clit.” Tan bonita así, toda lista para mi. (So pretty like this, all ready for me)”

She tugs harshly at his hair at the sound of his Spanish, her arousal topples over and her second orgasm hits her like toppling bricks. She squeezes his cock tightly inside her, her legs an iron grip on his waist as she bites down harshly on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood, to keep her intense whimpers and moans from spilling out and drawing attention to them.

Satisfied that he’s made her unravel on him, Javier fucks her through her orgasm relentlessly until he’s spilling into the condom, burying his face in her neck, right where he can feel her pulse, and grazing the skin with his teeth. He wants to leave a mark, for her to walk around with evidence of him on her body but that’d be a wrong move atop of all the other wrong moves he’s made tonight.

Paloma breathes heavily, mind hazy as she tries to recollect herself from the throes of passion bestowed upon her by Javier Peña. They stay there, embraced in one another before he pulls out of her with a grunt and she whines at the loss of him.

Her legs unwrap from his waist as he tentatively sets her down, discarding of the condom into the water as he tucks himself back into his pants and she pulls her dress down, not even bothered by the fact that he ripped her underwear right off of her.

“That was a mistake.”

His statement cuts through the night air and she’s already struggling to catch her footing on wobbly legs, the effect of being fucked hard and good.

“Javi––”

“No, Paloma, I’m fucking serious.” He asserts, his voice taking on a sharp edge, landing like a heavy blow on her already rattled nerves.

“All that sentimental bullshit you were saying before… it means nothing to me. You’re just a distraction–– a pretty face that’s been keeping me from doing my damn job. Now, there’s another life lost, and instead of finding answers, I’m too busy babysitting you.”

“Don’t you dare pin your incompetence on me, Javier,” She shoots back, her tone tinged with anger and frustration,” I’ve seen my father struggle with this bullshit for months now–– it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. S’not my fault you’re not as clever as everyone thinks you are. All the praise you get for being such a fuckin’ hero and yet… look at you. Unable to meet the expectations.”

She adjusts the thin straps of her dress back up her shoulder, wincing slightly as she brushes against the bite mark he accidentally left against her skin, knowing that she’s going to feel that atop of the soreness between her legs after this.

She braces herself for the inevitable discomfort that will follow, both physically and emotionally.

Javier’s jaw tightens, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he fights to maintain his composure. He knows better than to let her words get to him the way that they are.

This is exactly what they need, some intense fight to fully shatter the illusion of their involvement.

“Look at you, Paloma,” He sneers, his words dripping with contempt as he levels a scornful gaze at her. “Throwing yourself at me every chance you get like a whore. I used to pay for shit like this, but you? Oh, I didn’t spare a fucking dime. Giving it all up for free.”

Her jaw drops, a surge of anger and indignation flooding her senses as his words cut through her like a knife. She raises her hand instinctively, intent on delivering a stinging rebuke in the form of a slap across his jaw. But before she can make contact, his grip tightens around her wrist, arresting her movement with an iron grip.

“Don’t be stupid, querida,” He mocks her, his voice laced with disdain as he delivers each word like a venomous dagger. “Now that I fucked you one good time: Leave. Me. Alone. How ’bout you go back inside and fraternize with the mayor. I’m sure he’s eager to give you all the male validation you’re clearly chasing after.” He tilts his head, glaring at her in contempt. “Better yet, run off to your junkie, criminal boyfriend; won’t be long before he knocks you up and you’re stuck living in a run down trailer park in this shitty fucking town.”

Paloma’s heart shatters at his callous words, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks unchecked. She gazes up at Javier, but the man before her is no longer the sweet, charming figure she thought she knew. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now glint with coldness and malice, rendering him unrecognizable to her.

“Fuck you,” She spits, wrenching her hand free from his grip with a mixture of anger and hurt flashing in her eyes. Despite the tears welling up, she summons every ounce of defiance to shoot him a disdainful glare. “You’re a piece of shit, Javier Peña.”

With those final words, ones he’s heard a plethora of times before, she whirls around, her footsteps echoing loudly on the wooden stairs as she races to the nearest bathroom.

Ignoring the throbbing ache between her legs, she finds solace in the confines of the lavish restroom, allowing herself to unleash the torrent of tears pent up inside. Feeling foolish and utterly used, she wonders how she could have ever fallen for a man like him.

Meanwhile, Javier is left grappling with the sight of her heartbreak now etched into his memory. Pushing aside his own conflicted emotions, he knows he can’t afford to let their tangled affair distract him any longer.

This is what you both needed. He reminds himself, looking out into the water as the silver moonlight reflects off of the surface. Harsh, but she’ll get over it.

With a resigned sigh, he retrieves another cigarette, the familiar ritual offering a fleeting sense of calm amidst the storm raging about.

#javier peña smut #javier pena fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #javier pena smut #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña narcos #pedro pascal fanfic #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal character fanfic #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fic

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nomsfaultau · 2 years

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Premise of SBI SCP AU

This is an au that has consumed me. This blog will just be a terrible mess of whatever I’m stuck on for the week, likely with little explanation and heavy spoilers. Anyway, the general vibe + anomalous properties are below cut:

Philza: The Zilant. Is the immortal concept of fire and fury, which pretends to be a dragon, which pretends to be a human. Maintains his personhood by attaching himself to mortals he calls his ‘Collected’. Currently: Tommy, Wilbur, The Blade, and Tubbo. Additionally, Philza is very intent on keeping any promise he makes and was kept in the Foundation exclusively because they’d captured his Collected and made a deal. Gives great dad advice, except when the advice is ‘let me murder them for you <3’

Tommy: The Instigator. Has a blood red liquid on his hands that grows when he’s scared. When people touch it, they become aggressive to anyone but Tommy. At low TI-Red levels this leads to things like bickering, but it escalates to physical violence and brutality. When TI-Red levels consume him and he thinks he’s going to die, he summons The Blade. Lived as a normal human and met Wil, Phil, and The Blade after a summoning at 15; visited the homeless guys occasionally till the Foundation captured at 16. Abandonment issues, highly touch starved, used as a Thaumiel. Collected Tubbo.

The Blade: The Blood God. Is a massive boar behemoth with voices in his head. When attacked (or if there’s an orphan), becomes The Blood God, who will bend the universe to ensure he wins. The Blade only comes back when the challenge has been completed. Grew up as a monster in the woods, but pulled himself up out of the voices, figured out what was him and what was The Blood God, and established his own personhood. Somehow has a college degree, met Phil and Wil during a gap year. Loves gardening and murdering people for Tommy. Also managed to come out of the Foundation the least traumatized, iconic.

Wilbur: Soot. [tags are noms Wilbur or scp Wilbur if you want to block] His legs magically rearrange so he is the tallest humanoid in the room. Oh also the void in the side of his face that eldritch abominations claw their way out of. Was basically a feral starving child till ~14 when Philza forcefully adopted him. A chronic insomniac with a heart of gold and a tongue of silver, held together despite the inherent contradictions between being a supreme survivalist and a drama hoe. Memory issues because he represses basically everything.

Tubbo: The Pollinator. Is a honeycomb skin suit for approximately 400,000 bees. Uses they/them we/us pronouns, because they are a Hive mind/system containing at least three humans: a Little, a Foundation employee, and a lawyer/farmer. Tubbo grew up mostly normal, albeit in secret. The most recently captured by the Foundation, and a staunch pacifist. This causes them to be at odds with Philza, who did a few murderous rampages too many, and The Blade, for the reason above and also because he destroyed their legs. But they stick around because they’re attached to Tommy.

Basic vibes are found family, hurt/comfort, questions of morality, and trauma at the hands of the Foundation and each other. Things get messy, but it’s all bound together with love at the end of the day.

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rockthistowninsideout · 2 years

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Going through the Digimon tag on my blog, I came across the post for Mimato Year by @mimatoweek from last year. I had promised in the tags to participate but then totally forgot about it (oops!). Last year in February I had an idea for March/White Day, and reading the post, I once again had one for it (though it's probably not the same).

Anyway, here's my little ficlet for White Day, I hope you like it!

Clean and neat

Word Count: 607 Audience: General Additional tags: swearing

„You should wear white“, Mimi said off-hand while painting her nails a vibrant green colour.

Yamato, who’d been sitting on his bed strumming his bass, blinked. „I have no idea what you’re talking about.“ He looked up to see her still only paying attenttion to her nails and not even giving him so much as a glance.

„Duh! I mean for your video shoot of course! It would look so cool if you were all wearing white. I was thinking maybe tuxedos but that would be way too formal. You’re still a rock band after all. But white blazers and tee-shirts, white chino pants and white sneakers would be the way to go. I can see you performing in an otherwise all-black environment like in that new Halestorm video, The Church or The Steeple or something. You know, I’m not a big rock fan but Sora likes them and this song is absolute killer, as I guess you would say. – Or would all-white be better? With black you’d of course had a stark contrast but with white it would look all clean and neat…“

While Mimi was still rambling, creating the vision of Knife of Day’s next music video as she was talking, Yamato got up to put his bass away. He closed the clasps on the case before padding across the room to where Mimi was sitting on his desk, legs dangling in sync to her musings.

His initial reaction to her idea had been to snort. Knife of Day wearing white! How ridiculous! They were a bonafide rock band whose members wore nothing but black, a bit of leather, here and there some checkered slippers, and maybe a bit of blood red or deep dark blue. But white? No way!

But the longer Mimi’s ramble went the more the idea grew on him. He could see it before him, his bandmates and him in a bright white room, similar to The Hives in their Walk Idiot Walk video. Their style would be somewhere between formal and casual, like Mimi had described. Maybe there were accents with some red flower petals floating around but otherwise it would be just like she had said: clean and neat.

He reached her now, standing before her. Her dangling feet hitting his legs lightly finally made her look up. She tilted her head curiously, halting in painting her video vision in the brightest (or better say) whitest colours. But before she could ask why he had suddenly come over she was stopped short by a kiss from Yamato. It started out tenderly but grew more and more intense, Mimi entangling her legs so that Yamato could press his body against hers, reassuringly and needily.

Coming up for air, both faces flushed red to the hairline, Mimi still managed a cheeky grin. „What was that for, Casanova? Not that I don’t enjoy kissing you. On the contrary, I do very much indeed. But that seemed a little random.“

Yamato shook his head as an answer, the wisps of his fringe falling into his eyes. „It was not random at all. This was for your brilliant idea for our new music video. It’s perfect. I couldn’t have come up with a better concept.“

Mimi smiled, it swung somewhere between the expression of a cat that got the cream and genuine gratitude over his compliment. „You know you can trust me in all things fashion“ she said with a toothy grin before her face turned soft. „And I’d be more than happy to help you set it up.“

Yamato replied with a similarly soft smile. Then he said „I hadn’t expected anything less.“

#digimon adventure #yamato ishida #mimi tachikawa #mimato #yamato x mimi #post-kizuna #my stories #digimon

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therabidkell · 2 years

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WARNING: I AM CRINGE BUT FREE

Yo! I mainly go by Hayhay or Hay but I also go by the names Eggnog, Alder, Skolas, and Hail. I am Otherkin and Autistic. Previously went by eliksni-enjoyer then alderztreez, now therabidkell!

Flight Rising blog at @the-stilted-spires

Destiny blog at @eliksnienjoyer

Special interests are Warrior Cats and Destiny/2, ask me about them and I will give you an essay on whatever(I mean that in the best way possible).

#AUGH(Positive) : My version of a favorite tag

#hayhay talkin' : My tag for stuff I talk about

For basics I use They/Xir but if you're cool here is something a little in-depth stuff on how to address me:

Commissions: Open!

Art Trades: Open

Art Requests: Open

Other Socials:

Ao3 - Branchez0fAlderTreez

FlightRising - HailForTheStorm

ArtFight - HayTheWeirdo

YouTube - HayTheWeirdo

Tags I stalk: Eliksni, The Thing 1982, Cephalopod, Flight rising

I don't want this too long so I'm putting this under a cut but here's a description of all my(Official/named) oc stuff in their little universes.

In The Fur- My second oldest oc world and the one I am most proud of! In this world Earth has been knocked backwards on it’s orbit of the sun, causing mass destruction and chaos, and just when the survivors think they’re safe, something from before The Fling comes crawling out of the shadows, and nobody knows if they’ll survive this time, but one determined group from the remnants of Mint City will do all they can to fix this gap of survival against survivors and infected.

Stories of SunClan- My oldest oc world, I’m not too proud of it but it’s got a special place in my heart. These stories follow SunPaw and her lineage. From the daring young SunPelt to the loveable RockFall and to the bold GreenBlade and beyond, SunClan will fight to keep their place in the forest all together.

Friends From Other Stars- Mostly oc with a bit of Destiny. This story follows Ali, and albino anthro lion who has recently run away from his abusive home, he knows nothing but eventually comes across Verin, an Eliksni vandal who was recently thrown through a vex portal on his first ever patrol, together the two must brace the forest together.. Until an unexpected friend finds them, and now they both must brace something completely unknown to the both of them, society.

Cult of Bone- My most recent on world, so will be prone to change. After being kicked out of GladeClan, BonePaw and FireflyPaw venture out into the cold winter to build their own community, one that truly values the strong and protects the weak, but nothing is truly safe for them as the world constantly flips on it’s head, FireFly and Tuft must navigate it the best they can and light the darkness ever seeking to destroy them and manipulate them.

FireTeam Chaos- A somehow five-member FireTeam with a non-guardian member and only two official memners. Fossil, a Human Arc Hunter founded the FireTeam, followed by Kaisk, an Eliksni Captain, Jackie, a Human(later Exo) Solar Titan, Dutar, a Hive Void Hunter/Titan mix, and Scrapwork, a Scorn Void Warlock. They go on quite chaotic adventures as they live out their lives in the world of Destiny.

Crew S-116- Among us based, not really any story just a collection of characters. Black and Purple are two imposters on a standard mission, but Purple is reluctant, and eventually after being manipulated by Black she cannot do it anymore and learns to actually stand up for herself as she protects Lime.

Crew P-25- Among us based, another recent one and thus prone to change. Dark Sea Green, or Sea for short, must adapt to Polus after her whole crew dies, and after finding out some restricted information for legal reasons MIRA cannot allow her to return to Earth, but for those same reasons MIRA cannot kill her off, stuck in blackmail Sea accepts her fate to die on Polus’ frozen landscape, that is until she becomes an unlikely ally to a group of imposters.

#hayhay talkin'#hayhay talkin

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finalshaper · 2 years

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hi i guess?

Some of the text in this is highlighted and colored blue to make skimming easier.

The name's Cayde, without the 6, and undoubtedly not dead. I also answer to Nova, Spades or Six. 18 y/o, autistic he/xe queer transsexual My timezone is Eastern Standard (EST). in a relationship Aspiring content creator

On this blog, expect to find things relating to my fandoms, my hyperfixations, my OCs, my writing projects, and the occasional dash commentary post. My talking tag for all my original posts is caydeposting.

My non-fandom sideblog can be found at @cayde6feetunder.

I don't have a DNI other than don't be a weirdo, don't harass me or my friends, and don't try to start fights and/or drama with me. If I block you and you bother me asking why or you message me asking why I blocked [x person] you will be blocked too. Don't annoy me, basically.

My fandoms and interests primarily include, with major ones bolded and colored, secondary ones italicized:

Destiny

Dead Space

Red Dead Redemption

God of War

And a few more, I'll update this probably when I remember more that are worthwhile enough to include. But this should give a general idea as to what you would see here!

My inbox is always open! Feel free to chat, or send me ask game prompts when I reblog them and I'll try to remember to get to it. I don't bite, I would love to chat.

I am also a writer as a hobby, and I do in fact take requests! Headcanons, short drabbles, etc etc. Keep in mind that I will only answer NSFW asks privately, so if they're on-anon they will be deleted. This is for the comfort of my followers. I have an NSFW sideblog, but you're gonna have to hunt it down yourself! Anyways, here are some brief rules for the requests and other things:

If I don't understand a character well, I usually don't think much about them. So if it takes me longer to do your request, don't take it as a bad request or whatever! I'll try to get to it as best I can.

I primarily focus on the highlighted/colored/italicized fandoms listed above because I give them the most thought.

I am okay with headcanons and fics involving dark subjects, but I WILL NOT be writing anything proshippy, immoral, or otherwise disgusting. Subjects such as violence, gore, sui//cide, and things like that are on the table however. ALL WILL BE TAGGED USING THE "[x] TW" FORMAT. If you have a specific tag you have filtered, let me know and I'll try to remember to use it!

I reserve the right to decline your request for any reason. Don't take it personally!

Want to write a collab? Lemme know! I'll be glad to depending on other projects I'm focussing on.

I would love to hear about your own OCs and your own fics! Flood my inbox.

Now that that that's out of the way. Here's a brief list of my Destiny OCs that you'll see tagged and talked about here. Feel free to ask me about them! I will update this list as we go along. Keep in mind that I am cringe but I am free and I do not care if someone thinks I'm cringe, so what. I regularly reblog ask games involving my OCs, and it's preferred that if you reblog an ask game from me you send me a prompt from it. But you don't have to.

Nebula-10, main OC, Exo; main player character [ REF ]

Pulsar-11, Exo; secondary player character [ REF ]

Comet, Cabal; adopted son of Pulsar and Nebula

Star, Eliksni; adopted daughter of Pulsar and Nebula

Ace, Awoken; adopted son of Nebula and Cayde [ REF ]

Kookaburra, Awoken; adopted daughter of Nebula and Cayde

Atlas, Hive; Lightbearer Knight and Lucent Brood defect

"Mastermind" (Real name unknown), Exo; lead scientist aboard Nebula's ship

Lucifer, AI; the AI on board the Morning Star ship

Kinkajou, Human; girlfriend of Kookaburra

Diavolo-12, Exo; irredeemable asshole bounty hunter that kills for fun.

Cernunnos-18, Exo; local forest dweller.

Axel, human; Ace's boyfriend

Valiksis, Eliksni; bartender on board the Morning Star

Val'Urath, Cabal; mentor of Comet

Tankha/The Stardancer, Human; Morning Star Crew

Sarviiks, Eliksni; House Salvation defect

Phyliis, Eliksni; daughter of Star and Sarviiks

Hiriiks, Eliksni; son of Star and Sarviiks

Balriiks, Eliksni; son of Star and Sarviiks

Tharvi/Narvi, Eliksni; son of Star and Sarviiks

Tamarin, Ghost; Kookaburra's Ghost

Chip, Ghost; Ace's Ghost

Whirl, Ghost; Star's Ghost

Pup, Ghost; Nebula's Ghost

Elytra, Ghost; Atlas' Ghost

Synapse, Ghost; Mastermind's Ghost

Redrum, Ghost; Diavolo’s Ghost

Morrigan, Ghost; Cernunnos’ Ghost

Grandeur, Ghost; Kinkajou’s Ghost

Glimmer, Ghost; Comet’s Ghost

Greased Lightning/Greaser, Ghost; Axel's Ghost

Sapa, Ghost; Tankha’s Ghost

Screech, Vex Harpy; “Domesticated”

Here's a list of my fics to go read!

paradise unforgiven -- destiny fic inspired by paradise lost, about the traveler and the witness.

welcome home, son -- destiny fic about ace

#caydeposting #intro post

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flowerandthesongstress · 2 years

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The (renewed and shortened) Masterpost of 2020-2024, i.e. Muh Stuff In English.

The majority of my works are heavy on subtext. Some are allegories. Most are autofiction.

Immigration, ‘otherness’, and the search for belonging are the ever-present themes in everything I have ever written, so I’ll omit the repetition; they’re there by default, always.

I'm not including short stuff (under 15k) and/or request fills, but you can find some of those through the blog archive and the tags and all that.

My writing is free and hopefully will always remain so. But please be considerate and remember that ‘free’ does not equal ‘public domain’ or ‘free to reuse, repost, plagiarize, skim for ideas, and silently snatch from’. 'Free' in this case means that 1) I'm lucky enough to afford not to monetize my writing, and 2) I write things that are too personal to monetize them, anyway.

Please read the annotation at the end of this post. Seriously. Please don't skip it.

With that said, below is some of the stuff that’s available either publicly or on request (see the pinned post for my contacts, the reasons why I no longer share most of this publicly and why I deleted so many works, etc):

Beauty and the Best friends forever — Gen, F/M/M, rated T. Word count: 75k. Themes: found family, abandonment issues, patience, depression, the power of friendship, Everything About The Shithole Is Either Ridiculous And Stupid Or An Evil Void Of Horror. Tagged as ‘if you only read one work by me’, not because it’s the best I've written — far from it — but for other reasons. The designated talking animal: a few demonic chickens.

The Largest Eggplant in the Valley — F/M, rated E. Word count: 110k. Themes: ADHD, executive dysfunction, honesty, communication, compassion fatigue, hospitality, cultural stagnation, expressing yourself through fiction, traditions and superstitions, breaking out of intergenerational trauma. Is the dorkiest, sweetest, cutest thing I’ve ever written. The designated talking animal: a bear. (removed as of 2024, with a fool's hope for better times) Available on request (see the pinned post for contacts and all that). (the remaining carcass). (playlist)

Hive — F/M/M, rated E. Word count the tractor is okay, but he runs on soup, not on gas: 128k. Themes: CPTSD and recovery, when it's not my paws aching, it's my tail falling off abandonment issues, capitalism, societal pressure, and I barely catch mice anymore found family, urbanism vs ruralism, personal growth through emotional support, I recently started moulting social anxiety, Hey You Check Your Internalized Misogyny, environmental issues, hereditary my nose is cold and my shagginess has increased mental illnesses. /I doubt that any passerby was reading Hive for allegories, so let's just leave *that* historical layer be... Yet if you caught it, the drinks are on me. All of the drinks, bruh. And ALL of the ice cream. / AMt🐝 series. the shopkeepers here know me and give me juicy bones for free The designated talking animal: a cat. (playlist)

Wrong Shoulder — the beequel; F/M, F/M/M; rated E; Word count: 270k. On the surface: three people (last seen prettying up a hamlet, beekeeping, and solving mysteries together), each with their individual ongoing grievances and fresh traumas, meet and hit it off in a giant resort hotel situated in a charming coastal town. Following at their heels are an overly cheeky voice and the mysterious number 20, but the latter feels natural somehow. Underneath the surface: several mindscape allegories awkwardly climbing atop one another in the name of self-therapizing + a nesting doll of story layers (or is it). Themes: internalized ableism, recovery from addiction, making friends with the Shadow Self, creativity vs consumerism, My Life Results Tripled The Year I Gave Up Hope And That One Other Thing. The designated talking animal: the same cat, but he’s now a bipedal and rants at everyone. He's also totes getting a cute girlfriend or two. AMt🐝 series. Available on request. (see the pinned post) (the same playlist)

Don’t Remember — F/M, F/F, F/F/M, F/MMM, FF/MM etc, rated Very E, Word count: 90k (WIP, but it's plotless smut/domesticity). Initially a parody of the godawful ‘aunt polly writes poly’ ‘reverse harem’ ‘genre’ that got popularized and westernized on wutpad; somehow turned into a straightforward depiction of an adorkable polycule living a wholesome rural life and being happy. Contains all of the compersion and hugs (and recipes? and gardening tips?!). This one is just for funsies and comfort. And for bleaching my brain. The designated talking animal: a unicorn. AMt🐝 series. Available on request (see the pinned post).

Lawful Status — F/M; rated TBD. Word count 85k (WIP). Just a slow-burn romance between a teenage girl and a demon, with some wholesome family dynamics, taking place in an urban fantasy, written on a dare, nothing else, pinky swear... damn, almost kept a straight face 😆. It's an allegory of Inner Child Therapy; I'm a metamodernist and I'll die a metamodernist, but for this one I am actually keeping count of how many tropes I can invert/subvert. The designated talking animal: the previous unicorn's brother who made slightly different choices in life. AMt🐝 series. Available on request (see the pinned post).

Frogs all the way down — F/M/M, rated M to E. Word count: 33k (WIP but it's an anthology). a toxic cesspool traumatized me so much that now I can only touch it through the double-padded cozy soft protective gloves graciously provided by a friend Yo dawg, I love your fanfiction so much that I’m writing fanfiction of your fanfiction, and it's about a character writing fanfiction. Themes: ADHD, executive dysfunction, personal growth, friendship, emotional support, processing trauma through fiction, communication, honesty. The designated talking animal: ow maaan where do I even friggin’ start.

The not-so-Great Filter — F/M, rated M to E. Word count: 96k. Themes: dealing with the loss of a parent, lookism, culturally ingrained fear of intimacy, Adulting Be Hard, existentialism meets tacos, Sad Clown Paradox meets the Fermi Paradox, East meets West but they're both Asia, My Life Results Tripled The Year I Gave Up Hope And That One Other Thing. The designated talking animal: ‘Not this time’. ;-) (playlist)

Until You Meet Yourself and to get you home — F/M, rated T to E; just a bunch of one-shots, mostly written as gifts for my SO. Themes: insecurities, social anxiety, non-verbal communication of affection. (removed as of 2024, with a fool's hope for better times.) Available on request. (the remaining carcass) (playlist)

Pelicans, shmelicans! — F/M, rated T to M. Word count: 16k. Themes: childhood friendships, peer pressure, Being a Teenager Is Hard, anger management.

FatS — F/M, F/M/M, rated E. Word count: 280k. Themes: CPTSD and recovery, insecurities, personal growth, personal accountability, Organized Religion Bad, mood disorders, colonialism, psychedelic drugs, Why Our Brains Can't Communism. The designated talking animal: suspiciously absent, unless you count the guy in the cat t-shirt. Removed (reasons), available on request.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Please also note that I am NOT in any fandoms or interested in any 'blorbos'; merely using ready-made worlds sometimes, as handy outlets to channel personal stuff and write my loved ones into them*. And occasionally attach funny ears to said loved ones. Point being, you don’t need to be in any fandoms or know any canons in order to read and understand, either. Another important point, though: if you are strictly after fanfiction and blorbos, then I am not your gal. As in, I am not the author for you and you are not a reader for me.

* as there's been some substantial confusion, I'm editing the post to explain what I mean...

It's very handy when one doesn't need to labor over twenty archetypal background characters and a detailed infrastructure. A ready-made world: get to write and process your personal issues through that writing without bothering to invent where the grocery store is located. Super mega convenient.

Or so I thought.

I have since realized my mistake, my ignorance, and my naiveté, and how they were caused by a different cultural context. I have since withdrawn — after going through a brutal bout of culture shock and encountering so many instances of plagiarism that I started wondering if I was caught in a simulation — and corrected that unfortunate mistake, via deleting everything I could still delete and building all of the necessary ‘infrastructure’ at home; as in, I created my own world that metaphorically represents my brain, with every aspect of that world signifying one of my brain functions, and with everyone I know written into that world as fixtures. And I just quietly churn out novels set in that world and then share those novels with friends and loved ones and friend-shaped people. Or with no one at all (in which case the novels in question are simply not on this list).

To reiterate: 1) I am fandomless. That fictional thing you think I'm invested in? I'm not invested in it. In fact, that thing might be a trigger now. That 'blorbo' you think I like? I do not. I like real non-fictional people. I prefer to write various fictionalized versions of my relationships with them. Why do this..? In very-very short: fear. Existential fear. Fear of loss, fear of death, wanting to tuck us away into better places where we're safe from both, because there's magic there etc. I also love to metaphorically kill off a certain country, sometimes in the silliest ways possible, every chance I get (I'm sorry for what I have been doing to Lewis all this time... I made my own idiotic old-fart 'mayor' to repeatedly kill off now). In reality, that country is an evil gerontocratic dictatorship that wants me and my loved ones dead. Laughter helps sometimes. Stuff like that... As I said, it's for self-soothing. Coping. Dealing. Emotional catharsis. Call it whatever.

2) if you're strictly after fanfiction and light entertainment and certain names—as in, if you wish to separate me from my stories—then I'm not the writer for you and you're not a reader for me, and we can and should just go out separate ways asap. Pun intended.

3) sidenote: if you are a good person who is invested in a Thing I never heard of, I can actually acquaint myself with the Thing and write something for you! There's been multiple precedents. Not like I'm against the general idea, and I love writing requests and making good people smile and feel happy. But, dear fren, please understand that me doing so would not mean that I am now invested in the Thing. I'll just hand you a lopsided gift (it will likely be something comedic), give you a hug, and go back into the sandbox in my dark corner. Safer this way.

back to the main page

#writing masterlist

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theliteraryluggage · 2 years

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I posted 2,868 times in 2022

That's 1,899 more posts than 2021!

164 posts created (6%)

2,704 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@raedear

@cutetomholland

@theliteraryluggage

@seek--rest

@cheyla-v

I tagged 2,687 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

#i think i made queue up inside my head - 2,021 posts

#spiderling - 357 posts

#yoi - 261 posts

#fma - 100 posts

#nwh - 92 posts

#nihi writes stuff - 86 posts

#tom holland - 69 posts

#nihi does art - 66 posts

#ask - 66 posts

#answered - 66 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i never thought about this but i'm guessing it comes from some biscuits or other baked goods that are chocolate covered on one side? so you'

My Top Posts in 2022:

Please consider:

A character who always wears their hair tied back leaving it down. soft. vulnerable.

Also consider:

A character who always wears their hair down tying it back. shit's about to go down.

108 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

Common Fanfic Mistakes pt. I: Idioms

Since there was a decent response I decided to make good on my promise to write up some of the most common mistakes I've been seeing in fanfic recently, focusing in particular on homophones (words that sound the same but have a different spelling and meaning) and idioms and idiomatic phrases (phrases that are often used and recognised in combination).

Now, this isn't meant to attack anyone; these mistakes can happen very easily and for me they don't really take away from my enjoyment of a story, even if they do make me pause sometimes. But as someone who has picked up many phrases just by reading, both books and fanfic, I know how quickly it happens that you first read it somewhere used wrongly and you absorb it into your vocabulary without even knowing it's not right.

So! For those interested, I want to list up a few of the most common things I've seen, along with explanations and example sentences. This got pretty long so I'm dividing it up into two posts: this first focusing on idioms and the second on homophones.

Disclaimer: I am not a native English speaker myself, so I'm not claiming to be 100% accurate here, but I did do some research and I have a MA in English/International Literature, so I do know a little bit what I'm talking about.

Idioms

There's certain idiomatic phrases that are very popular in fanfic, I seem them over and over again--but I also see them used incorrectly a lot. Let's get right into it with what might be the most common.

To make a beeline for something

Unlocking the door, he made a beeline for the bed and dropped face-down into it.

This one confused me when I first encountered it in fanfic. I hadn't heard it before, but having seen the kind of bumbling, roundabout way bees fly from flower to flower, I thought that's what it meant: to make a slow, meandering path. Only it didn't fit into the context, bc it turns out, it means the opposite: To take the quickest, most direct way possible. It does actually relate to the bee, the insect, though: it's meant to reference the way a bee takes the quickest route back to its hive. So it is actually a beeline, not a b-line, as I have often seen it spelled. Who knew!

wreaking havoc

He didn't know how the raccoon got in, but it was now wreaking havoc in his kitchen.

a phrase that means to cause mayhem or bring about distruction, I often see it spelled wreck havoc, which doesn't seem farfetched, given the meaning. But to wreak means to bring about or cause, and that's what you do with chaos and destruction: you bring it about, you don't destroy the destruction. Havoc, by the way, used to refer to plundering and pillaging. Also interesting: The past tense of wreak it wreaked--not wrought.

at someone's beck and call

I cannot be at your beck and call 24/7! I have a life of my own, you know?

I often see this as beckon call, another understandable mistake, since the word beckon does exist, means the same as simply beck, namely to wave someone towards you or give a hand signal, and is more commonly used today. If someone is at your beck and call, though, they will cater to your every whim when you beck them AND when you call them.

one and the same

She realised that Lucky and The Hallowed were just titles for one and the same person.

two things so identical it's not enough to say the are one, or to say the are the same. they are one AND the same. That's how identical they are. One in the same, as I sometimes see it spelled, makes me more think of two peas in a pod.

case in point

You need sleep. Case in point: You just watered the plants with cat food.

If you try to give an example for an argument you're making, you bring up a case in your point, as in a case in support of your point, rather than a case and point.

getting off scot-free

We all knew they were guilty, but they got off scot-free.

TBH, neither the correct phrase nor the version that I often see in fics, getting off scotch free, made much sense to me before I looked up the origin. It has nothing to do with the people of Scotland or their finest whiskey--apparently the scot was a tax that people living in a town or village had to pay. If you lived outside the bounds and were able to avoid the tax, well--you were scot-free.

a shoo-in

With her charisma and eloquence, she was a shoo-in for chairwoman.

not a shoe-in, as you might think. This phrase, refering specifically to someone sure to win a competition or election, does not relate to having a foot in the door. It's a term originating from horse racing, referencing the action of driving the horse in a certain direction with gestures and noises. Shoo! Originally it was used to refer to rigged races, but it has lost most of that negative connotation today.

getting down to brass tacks

We don't have any more time to waste, let's get down to brass tacks!

See the full post

145 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

I just saw this on my dash for another fandom and I couldn't help myself. (i went with one character per alignment, obviously there are many other obvious choices.)

224 notes - Posted December 20, 2022

Here is what the sea smells like. It is more texture than scent, because the sea is primarily made of two substances that have no smell of their own: water and salt. Salt has no smell, but makes the air sting, and so all of the other smells of the sea are layered upon the pang of salt. Water has no smell but instead a comfort. We feel moisture as life and so the smells of the ocean are layered upon the contentment of the water. Salt is treble and water is bass. I don't know how I know this is true, but I know it is true. The sea smells like old wood and wet leaves. Like cold mud and warm stone. Like every creature who has ever lived in it, a churning graveyard and nursery. Like winds from the inland carrying the hot circulation of life and winds from the ocean carrying the distant froth of waves against ships and islands. Like gray, only more so. Like blue, only less so.

The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home, Joseph Fink & Jeffrey Cranor

5,578 notes - Posted March 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

rotating my blorbo in my mind like the cough drop in my mouth, slowly stripping away layer after layer as I let it soothe me, until I reach its very core where it is soft, and I can crush it.

10,642 notes - Posted October 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post #sharing this again bc actually some things changed in the last month 😂

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vivifrage · 2 years

Text

I posted 6,760 times in 2022

178 posts created (3%)

6,582 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@roxygobyebye

@ruthlesslistener

@icedragon19

@shadowtriad

@nolightsinthedark

I tagged 2,221 of my posts in 2022

#destiny - 1,267 posts

#hollow knight - 158 posts

#transformers - 80 posts

#destiny 2 - 53 posts

#pale king - 42 posts

#hornet - 40 posts

#elden ring - 38 posts

#jaxx writes - 31 posts

#animorphs - 21 posts

#thk - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#what is stuck in my head is that even though the drift took centuries misraaks was still young enough that inaaks could carry him

My Top Posts in 2022:

You know what I need?

Velcro on tits and an AMAB genderfluid friend.

One of us wants them and the other doesn't? Cool, you get The Tits today.

Neither of us want them? They stay in the drawer.

Both of us want them? Well, we will have to share and make up wild stories to explain the singular tit.

I think it'd be great.

I think we'd be real bosom buddies.

68 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

Thought: Osiris and Sjur Eido are both stuck in the same plane or wherever their minds are. They meet up and are like "hey well two heads are better than one right?"

Anyways through the power of wlw/mlm solidarity they bust out at the end of the WQ raid or something and smooch their partners while the Pyramid ship explodes in the background.

72 notes - Posted March 1, 2022

What if next update's like

Eido gets killed doing something, everyone is horrified, Misraaks is distraught

A Ghost pops up, revives her to choruses of "hey what the fuck!" all around

They're like "lmao you never wondered why there was a perfectly healthy, unharmed baby in the vent of a crashed ship?"

Chaos erupts

112 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

Rasputin this Witness that... what I care about for next season is who Mithrax, local Disney Princess, is gonna befriend next.

124 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Been thinking about the like, tonal dissonance between this season and the previous few, plus Witch Queen, and with Lightfall coming up and all. And like, the pirates being kinda like heehee yar har har and less cutthroat vicious Actual Threat.

But I think a lot of it, at least in the main game, is getting filtered through our Guardian's view. Like, we see a problem and we kill gods about it. We just dealt with the Leviathan getting in everyone's heads, and the Lucent Hive coming up. Among the old crews, I doubt our Guardian sees any threat except for Eramis. Even the Vanguard is like ehhh we'll get some Hidden looking for Eramis but we have bigger fish to fry. Plus, I have a feeling (or maybe I'm biased) that we're gonna see more of a "girl when you are ready to break up with that piece of shit we're here but this relationship is making you horrible as fuck," with her than "oh shit oh no Eramis big evil bad!" Almost more like how we handled Savathun in Witch Queen.

Like, reading the lore and such not in our POV, the old crews and their fellows are incredibly vicious. They literally tear each other apart for the slightest infractions and revel in it, and they don't have the safety net of resurrection that the Guardians do. Spider and Misraaks, who seem to be most aware of/wary of the crews' strength, are both mortal. Misraaks gives his "these people are more dangerous than you think" line to his similarly mortal daughter rather than us. He knows we eat bullets for breakfast and grenades for lunch.

In summary of the rambling, I think these guys would mean business for like, anyone but the Guardian, but they're small peanuts to us so we're just gonna goof off and treat it as a Fun Pirate Adventure.

244 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #false

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thetruthaboutnolan · 6 months

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IS IT SMART TO SAY WHAT GROUPS YOU’RE IN?

I honestly don’t care. Hell I gave a couple of detailed posts on here of the majority of groups I’ve ever been on. I don’t care if people know the current groups that I didn’t make that I’m on. It helps show that all but one of them are aware it’s me and don’t believe the bullshit that has been spread about me at all. And the one group where I use a different alias was at the request of one of their admins and I low key think they know anyway but since there is no OOC list they can just pretend it’s not me and go on about their day instead of stress someone will call them out for ‘allowing me’ on their site after all the shit they talked. Besides, it’ll help focus them on places I actually am on and not some random group some random person whose character has something in common with one of my old ones and harassing it. I find it so funny how they ‘find’ me everywhere but when I actually make it clear where I am it’s so damn hard for them to acknowledge it and when they finally do it’s all ‘ohhhh but we don’t care and weren’t looking or anything, it’s funny he thinks we were ha….ha….ha’

Although…. it is an interesting experiment and we all know these stalkers are my little lab rats.

LOOKS LIKE LESS AND LESS ARE BELIEVING THOSE STORIES ABOUT YOU PARTIAL DUE TO A LACK OF PROOF OF ANY OF THEM.

Better late than never I always say. It comes with the fact that the bullies, Karens, obsessed stalker fans are just insane people. The complete lack of evidence of anything, the fact those that made claims are also deleting them, back tracking or out right admitting to lying. The fact that there is well 1.5 blogs ran by the same narc obsessed fan,m that can’t help but watch everything I do and even send themselves anons pretending to be other people is just… well, required. This person who I’ve never met or interacted with is really hoping I’d get with them at this point. Sorry bitch, already got a fiancée don’t need a toxic girlfriend.

It also helps that these people are known to be problematic themselves and retreat to their hive mind now that the general rpc either doesn’t give a shit about drama anymore or just don’t believe their bullshit. Which leads me to my next topic people Lee asking me about.

WHAT ABOUT THE FANFIC WRITERS? DON’T THEY GOT THEIR OWN PROBLEMATIC ISSUES THAT CAN BE PROVEN?

And that would be a hell yeah. Now I’ve already linked to and provided evidence of quite a lot of this and would definitely provide more if required. But for now either scroll down and find this shit or enjoy the read of how the asshats that tried to make drama with for me were actually the devils of the RPC.

ALR: was insanely cliquey and one of those groups where staff had to have the most powerful characters and they shit talk people in DMs while either avoiding them in chats or worse, acting sweet and nice to them publicly.

WOTNA: I mean I’ve shown this everywhere and it was in their own tags and a Google doc the staff themselves made. Not regarding my experience with them but just that a lot of people that were on it now say how toxic and immature that whole group was especially the staff. The staff admitting they were immature and would do things just because someone pissed them off rather it was hours ago or months ago. And let’s not forget stealing someone’s character and admitting to it with a ‘we thought she wouldn’t notice’ excuse.

Raven: once herald as a ‘pillar of the community’ was in fact insanely toxic. They targeted blogs they didn’t like, got theme makers to shut down their blogs over being told they weren’t going to go through their dozens of themes and edit all the coding to make the font huge and make it not a window theme which they demanded for days. Like the great race faker, a lot of people knew how toxic they were but didn’t say anything til after it was clear they were gone because they were afraid of them. Ranted how they were the best admin on tumblr, the best writer, and other than their friends, no one else was good enough to write on their group and how they hate wasting their time reading subpar apps and having to be nice when discussing edits. Oh and let’s not forget they stole a lot of their codes from other sites like codepen and jcink but claimed them as original since they changed a font color.

MP: the main admin Jo steals peoples OCs and makes them skeleton canons for the group and refuses to take them down when you ask her two and is in her rules that she would do.

HG: insanely toxic. Got my Google doc on that one. But a lot of people also claimed that it was a very cliquey group and toxic with even people in the cliquey choosing to bubble RP and still shit talk each other.

Empire: really don’t have any dirt on them. A friend of staff apparently was told I was going to sue Raven and made up the story I threatened to so the staff for kicking me out because of Raven. They apparently didn’t tell said friend that I had been there for a while already and even just rejoined later on with a new alias as staff told me to do. So…. Maybe jerks for not clearing that up?

CB: insanely cliquey and toxic. That’s coming from my friend as well who openly admits to me how toxic his friend group is and only sticks with them because he’s known them for so long. Members outside of the clique also have their own stories that I wanna say were similar to mine but I honestly didn’t have a story when there. Never interacted with the staff other than ‘oh they replied to my starter let me reply then’ never spoke to them at even when they did that. Well until they made up and activity unfollow just because they were mad I was taking up my friends time with OOC chats and posting *gasps*.

Should I go on with naming the individuals? Because we all know they got their own problematic pasts they wish we’d stop bring up. Here looking at you ms Barbie and Ms shadow hunter.

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checkxmaster · 10 months

Note

🟤🟤🟤

{out of code}🟤 Brown - What is a headcanon you are particularly proud of?

I've got a lot of interesting headcanons I've fleshed out either for Chad's backstory or as a result of his abilities with computers. I'm not sure proud is the right word, but some of them have been a lot of fun to elaborate on, or they've added depth to Chad that helps me define his personality beyond the small glimpse of him we got in the first movie. Alright, here we go...

Chad's wife, Iris. I never got around to getting a FC for her, and she honestly has never actually shown up in a thread as an NPC, but I did come up with a whole background story for Chad and his wife, how they met, what she did, etc. She's an elementary school teacher specializing in working with physically disabled children. To have a job like that, you have to have a lot of patience and empathy, and so it made sense to me that Chad would love someone like that. He can be very wound up at times and really hard on himself, so Iris' chill energy, patience, and understanding helps to balance him out when his anxiety gets the better of him. And Iris... just has a thing for shy computer nerds, so she fell for Chad right away. Iris was never meant to be a huge presence on this blog, but I created her just to give Chad some depth and to soften him a bit, because he always seemed like a strange paradox to me. He's a highly trained commando, yet he cracks under pressure and seems to have insecurity and anxiety issues. That's not ideal for his kind of work, so it made sense that being a commando was something he was more or less talked into and isn't the focus of his life. Giving him someone like Iris further fleshes out the kind of person Chad really is, when he's not forced to essentially be something he never wanted and was never meant to be.

Chad's cat, Oreo. Chad and Iris had a black and white cat named Oreo, but really it was Chad's cat. I don't know why I decided Chad was a cat person, but it just seemed to fit with him. Oreo is an unusually intelligent cat, very clever in his reasoning skills and able to pass the mirror test for self awareness. He also has a lot of other quirks like walking on two legs sometimes, communicating in very humanlike ways, and actively competing with Chad's keyboard for his attention. In threads where Chad made it out of the Hive with someone and they went to his house in the suburbs of Raccoon City to get supplies to go on the run, Oreo has sometimes tagged along as added color. He even had his own thread once where he came upon a sleeping Alice a few years after the Hive Incident and instantly bonded with her. Because he's very smart, Oreo was able to survive the apocalypse longer than most pets. (R.I.P. Matt's black Lab, Pickles... he didn't make it nearly as long, heh.) If you'd like to read more about Oreo, I made a headcanon post about him back in the day here.

Chad's investigation of the Umbrella computer AIs used to maintain their facilities. This was something I actually put a lot of thought into that only was mentioned in one thread, heh, but you know what? That's okay, I thought it was kinda cool anyway, even if it didn't get used for too much. In a thread with Alice around the time of RE: Extinction, they were down in the Nevada facility, and Chad was explaining about the White Queen and all the other AIs Umbrella uses to control and manage its facilities. It was just one of those times where I was feeling creative and a whole bunch of color poured out, heh. But to this day, it's one of the more fun headcanons I've fleshed out. The AIs I detailed are ones I use consistently across all my RE blogs, or at least I would if they ever came up, but if anyone ever wanted to go to an off-the-canon-path facility that's not shown in the movies where one of the other AIs was in control, that can be arranged on any of my RE blogs. Because of these headcanons about Umbrella's AIs and my use of her in a few of Chad's threads, I ended up creating a canon/OC hybrid muse for the White Queen and her human origin that I used to write under the url "untetheredqueen." I deleted the blog some years ago because there wasn't very much interest, but I still remember her fondly, heh. I found the thread where Chad explains about the different AIs, and I'll plop it under a cut if anyone is interested in reading about them, just because it's a bit long.

{Alice and Chad are down in the Nevada facility. Alice has just commented on Chad's ability to deal with and get around Umbrella's computer systems. She's asked about the White Queen and why she's in charge instead of the Red Queen...}

Chad chuckled lightly at her compliment. “Hardly. I’ve just had more time to study Umbrella and its computer systems than I ever had before the Hive. I… I know what I did wrong… that night.” A hint of self-loathing came back into his expression but he pushed the feeling down, staying on track. “A lot of good that does anyone now, but… I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Basically, what I didn’t realize, or what my training at Umbrella never taught me, was that each AI has its own personality. I’m not saying they’re alive, but they’re programmed to behave in a certain way, and that affects how they relate to humans. Their names are very telling. All from Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland or Through the Looking-Glass. Each facility has a dominant AI, with the Red Queen managing all of them. At some facilities, she’s the main AI, but at others like this one in Nevada, another AI is immediately in charge. In theory, the Red Queen can see everything that happens at all facilities, but… some of the AIs have been getting around that. It’s… actually interesting, the way they're learning… evolving. Their programming is some of the most advanced in the world. Well… was.

“There are five in total that I’ve been able to find, though only four of them are still in existence. The Red Queen, the White Queen, the White Knight, the Mad Hatter, and… the Jabberwocky. The Jabberwocky was the first of all of them, terminated before the creation of the Red Queen. It was… a disaster. The idea was to create a predatory AI to guard Umbrella’s facilities that would attack enemies of the Corporation. The problem was, the programming was too absolute, too stringent. The computer started killing people for the most minor of infractions, like swiping an expired ID card. There was a huge cover-up, it was scrapped, and the Red Queen was later instituted as the replacement for it. Same homicidal tendencies, but better programming to back it up.

“Where I went wrong years ago, was that I didn’t consider the personality of the AI I was dealing with. Their names are not random at all. The Red Queen is a violent AI with extreme weapons capabilities that is not trusting of anyone. She would sooner kill you than bank on anything you say. She had to be that way to protect the Corporation’s most dangerous and valuable assets, at least in their opinion. ‘You’re all going to die down here,’ isn’t just her favorite catchphrase. Turns out it’s a protocol initiation code. It means she’s marked people inside the facility for termination. It’s an indication that someone’s done something that’s caused a threshold to be reached, a trigger to be set off, or a contingency to be set into motion, all detailed within her programming. Basically, you did something that made you a threat to her and violated the absolute containment policy of the facility. If I’d known that phrase wasn’t just her talking shit about us, that it was an actual initiation of a defense protocol, I would never have disabled her and cut the power. Because she doesn’t use that protocol unless things have reached the highest level of dangerous.

“Had I considered the distrusting and paranoid nature of the Red Queen’s programming, I also would not have trusted how easy it had been to disarm her. The bitch had a whole other layer of defense and weaponry coding that she had encrypted to look like something benign, so I overlooked it at first. She allowed me to disable some things so that I would think she had no weapons, keeping other avenues open in case she was threatened by us. When everyone went into that corridor and you asked me what they were doing… I started talking… out loud… about scrambling the mainframe. That’s when she turned on us. She heard me… and considered us all a threat to her from that moment on.

“The Mad Hatter is a security AI that is programmed to be extremely paranoid, but it has no weapons. The White Knight is a similar peaceful AI but it’s in charge of a facility where prisoners are kept, so it’s programmed to go into lockdown at the drop of a hat and only confirmation from outside the facility can unlock it. Yeah… Umbrella had its own prison. Did you know that? I didn’t. Highly illegal, too, not that that ever stopped them before.

“The White Queen was, as her name suggests, programmed to be a kinder and more forgiving AI than her sister, but in some ways just as tough on those who threaten her. I’ve studied her a lot, and her two biggest priorities are self-preservation and safeguarding human life. None of the AIs can harm Umbrella employees anymore, but… Dr. Isaacs’ current research has actually caused a conflict in her programming. She disagrees with it. I’ve found strange updates to her coding and tagging in her data logs that suggest that she has decided his activities are unacceptable. She’s started to resemble her namesake in other ways too besides a better moral compass. The White Queen has taken it upon herself to put up multiple firewalls to keep the Red Queen from seeing what’s going on at the Nevada facility. The Red Queen thus far either hasn’t noticed, or she doesn’t care that her sister apparently wants to be left alone,” he said with a half grin.

“As far as how dangerous she might be to us… she actually might not mind us being there. So long as we don’t threaten to shut her down, disable the main power circuits for the facility, or intend to continue T-virus research, she should not want to harm us. If anything, she might help us, if we’re willing to end Dr. Isaacs’ research to resolve her programming conflict. The White Queen accounts for human emotion in her decision-making, which means she is willing to bargain, to take things like fear and sadness and anger into account, to analyze our responses to her and willingness to do as she asks, and to compromise on some things to have a better overall outcome for human life. For example, whereas the Red Queen didn’t want any of us to leave the Hive, the White Queen might have told us about the antivirus sooner, or allowed those of us who weren’t infected to leave. She is also more honest than the deceptive Red Queen. She would have told us up front why we should not cut the main power and what exactly had happened, because she would understand that our defiance and curiosity would only lead to more casualties later. She’s a problem solver, not a problem eliminator. She’s definitely an upgrade as far as emotional and psychological intelligence.”

“There’s… something else. I think… that she knows about my facial recognition software virus. She has to. After this much time, there’s no way she shouldn’t have found it by now. I’m good, but I’m not that good. If she has noticed, she hasn’t done anything about it, not resolving it or quarantining files that contain it or alerting the Red Queen to its existence. It would make sense that she’d be okay with it, though, since it’s essentially impeding Dr. Isaacs’ research by preventing the software from confirming your identity. She can’t do anything to stop him herself, but she doesn’t have to help him by getting rid of the virus either. It depends on what we say to her, but if we play our cards right, she might help us more than we might think.”

He stopped then, realizing that he had gone off on a geeky tech rant about the different computer systems. the smile that emerged now was almost shy. “I like figuring out computers and had a lot of spare time on my hands these past few years,” he offered as an explanation for his detailed knowledge. “It occupied my mind, you know?”

#{ out of code } ᵒᵒᶜ #{ headcanons }

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