#I sincerely hope that none of the people involved in this ever see it
Note
hiii ari! this is leman speaking! i put some thought into this one along with neso (she’s xiao’s certified lover /srs) and we like the detail where he doesn’t like eating in front of people, he prefers eating alone, it’s cute despite the slight angst potential.
anyways, requesting a drabble of xiao eating with/ in front of his lover for the first time?! it can be full fluff or fluff with angsty undertones, whichever, as long as there’s sweetness to it! <33
A Meal in the Company of the Ones You Cherish Most | Xiao
Xiao x reader ( @ourolite/@fancymooncherryblossom )
Warnings: None
A/N: Thank you so much for requesting, leman!! I know you requested a drabble, but as you can see I went..very overboard.😅 I had a lot of trouble wrapping up the drabble I initially made so I said fuck it and made whatever this is. 'Hope you and Neso don't mind too much! ( Also sorry this took so long to complete! )
Orangish rays mix with the purple-tinted clouds and the blush in between them, giving off the illusion of the familiar evening sky through the glassless window of your kitchen.
The rich smell of spices accompany the crackling of the stove and the tune that slips from your damp lips in the form of a smooth, thin hum. Your eyes drift between the food that sizzles on the stove and the beautifully crafted archway that leads to the large balcony of Wangshu Inn.
Dinner time was once again approaching and Xiao has yet to return. Not that it was common for him to be home in the first place. With danger always lurking about somewhere and your fiancé being none other than the Conqueror of Demons himself, being home in time for dinner was a rare occurrence..
Despite this, you always set his plate aside for when he finally comes home; usually at the dead of night when you're fast asleep in bed.
A particularly loud pop from the stove steals your attention, stilling your thoughts as you forced your attention away from the archway so that you can diminish the fire. It was only for a brief moment, no more than a few seconds, and even then, he managed to sneak up on you.
"Wha-!" You jump when you turn and are immediately met with his piercing gaze. His golden eyes study you, silted pupils examining your face for a second before his lips, which were thinned out in a straight line just a moment ago, dip downward into a frown. Ruining the beauty of his features with it's ugly appearance.
"Don't look like that. I was just surprised," Your face relaxes and a soft smile appears on your face in hopes that it would convey the sincerity of your next words, "I'm glad you're home."
For a few moments, Xiao simply stares, face unchanging. He used to feel so uncomfortable whenever you smiled at him like that. It always felt so wrong seeing you so happy to see him. He felt like he didn't deserve such a lovely smile, especially from someone as pure as you..
But nowadays are different. Being around you as long as he has, he's grown..accustomed to this. Seeing you genuinely delighted at the mere mention of anything that involves him. Seeing you smile whenever he decides to make his presence known to you. Frowning whenever he said anything bad or degrading about himself in the past. He's grown comfortable with it all. Not entirely used to it yet, but not so uncomfortable that he wants to flee. In fact, lately he's been yearning to see your smile more and more..
It's all so strange, he thinks.
"Xiao," You call, your voice akin to a soothing melody. It carries him away from his thoughts as effortlessly as the feeling of your warm hand on his face, "I'm glad to see that you're safe."
A huff leaves his lips, "My safety shouldn't concern you. You should be worried about more important things," His tone was as harsh as ever and his words were as a cold as a steel blade. It only makes your smile widen.
"Silly, you are one of the things most important to me," You say. And oh, how he wishes to follow up with a self-degrading comment of how someone like him is undeserving of your worry. How he wishes he could say that you shouldn't speak such loving things to a monster like him who's stained his hands with the blood of countless enemies..
But he inevitably keeps his comments to himself. Although he deserves it, you aren't fond of him "bad-mouthing himself" or so you've said before. It's odd to him, but at this point, you've dedicated countless hours to helping him break this so called "habit" of his so he shouldn't insult that by speaking his mind.
"I didn't expect you home so early so I haven't made your dinner yet. I'll get to working on it right away!"
"There's no need for that. Adepti don't--"
"Nonsense! Everyone deserves a nice meal after a long day of work, especially you, Xiao," You brush off his attempts with a simple wave of your hand, "Since its been a while, I'll cook your favorite! Just let me go downstairs real quick and get some ingredients from Yanxiao first!" Xiao sighs.
Eventually you came back with the ingredients for the Almond Tofu. Xiao decided to stay and watch as you cooked—something he often did ever since you joked about how little time the two of you spent together because of how busy he always was—and as always, you talked his ears off about various things. As the evening yellows turned into starry blues through your window and as the fire made the stove crackle to life, Xiao listened intently, face neutral as you told him about your day.
"I think I'll take him up on the offer," You say, referring to Aether, who you managed to run into by chance at Liyue Harbor, "It's not often I get to travel to other nations anymore. I think it would be a nice change of pace. What do you think?"
"If the traveler is the one accompanying you, there's little to worry about. I don't have any objections."
You giggle, "I didn't think you would. ..So I guess this settle things. ..Hm, I can't wait to see the hydro nation for myself. ..Oh! But don't worry, I'll make sure to bring back lots of souvenirs. I heard Fontaine has some great desserts so I'll definitely make sure to bring some back! Heh, although I can't promise it'll make the entire journey back home."
"There's no need to do that. Any form of gift is useless to me and'll only be ruined by my hands as a result. The need to spend mora on me shouldn't be something that crosses your mind.."
Putting the final touches on the almond tofu, you grab it and walk towards him. The pleasant smells floating closer and becoming more potent the closer you get to him, "Even so, I'd feel bad if i just didn't get you anything. I mean, what kind of fiancé would I be if I didn't show that I was thinking of you while away?"
As you outstretch your hand to give him his food, Xiao briefly glances down, his pretty golden gems eyeing the plate for a moment before raising his hand to grab it. It's swift, and it's only after he takes the plate from you that he speaks again, "You don't need to prove anything to me. You make your fondness of me clear enough as is. Just enjoy your trip and I'd be happy.."
After that, there's a silence that fills the room. Usually you wouldn't mind it, but today you seemed confused. Xiao was still here. It's routine of him to soon disappear after you handed off his food if you were awake to give it to him, but this time was different. This time he's stayed, mostly unmoving and looking at you with his eyes flickering with something undescribable. How odd.
"Xiao?" You call, "Is there something you want to tell me?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"Well, you usually don't stick around like this— Ah, not that I'm complaining!" Your hands shoot up like a defense mechanism triggering as you swing them around in a slight panic, "I just assumed you wanted to ask or tell me something before you left and..yeah.."
Silence fills the room once again and for a moment, you thought he'd just end up vanishing like he usually did when he didn't feel like answering questions. That never happened however, and when he finally answered you, he spoke in a tone that you haven't heard since the day you conveyed your feelings to him for the first time all those years ago..
"Bosacius and Indarias were always more fond to human customs like this," He began, his voice low as he recalled the memory with a forgone look in his eyes, "Bosacius especially liked to eat in the company of others. He found great joy in it despite having no need to partake in such an activity. He claimed that even the worst of foods tasted delicious when he had someone to feast with him. I..never took part or humored him in the past. I saw no reason to, but now that the centuries have passed and I have you, I'd..like to try it out.."
"You.." You mumble, eyes wide with innocent shock evident in your voice and on your face, "You want to..eat dinner with me?"
"Do you not want to?" His brows crease and his once neutral expression scrunches into one that's more foreign to you—hesitance, "If it's not something you wish to do with me, I understand."
"No, no!" You shake your head aggressively quick to the point Xiao fears it'll just spin right off your shoulders, "I- I don't mind! Not at all! I'm really happy you decided to come to me about this and..! L- Lemme just— Hold on," As if you were being timed by a clock and were running out of time, you run over to the counter and grab your plate of grilled tiger fish before returning back to Xiao in record time.
"Let's eat on the balcony- Uh! Only if you want to that is! If you'd prefer to eat here we can! I don't want you to think I'm trying to force you or anything—!"
"I'm fine with eating on the balcony," He replies rather simply, cutting your spiraling short. You open your mouth to reply with some simple response but inevitably decide to grab his hand and led him outside instead, fearing you'll have a repeat of what just happened.
Sitting along the wooden railing, your eyes subconsciously drift to your lover, who seemed to be looking at you with expectant eyes. Normally, you wouldn't mind it all that much—heh, if anything you'd be overjoyed to have his attention like this—but today, it just makes you feel..anxious.
Your eyes glance away and you play it off as if you were just admiring the scenery around you, which isn't much to look at since you decided it was a smart idea to sit back against the balcony railing, which left you to stare at the decorum of the entranceway that led back inside the inn.
Why are you so nervous anyways? Over the years, you've done things with Xiao that are wayyyy more intimate than this. You've kissed him, been vulnerable in front him—hell, you were even naked in front of him one time! ( It was purely on accident, but still! ) Eating with him isn't a big deal!
..Oh, who are you fooling? This is a big no—huge deal. For you, for him.. Although to others, one would find it silly to make such a big fuss over something like this; but to you, this can easily be marked as one of the most intimate moments of your life. With the wind picking up, blowing it's quiet tune in your ear and through your hair, the birds that rest atop the Wangshuu Inn flapping their wings at one another and chirping happily, and the most beautiful person in the world sitting before you—who feels safe enough to do this with you and only you—yep, this is ten times more romantic than any date he's ever took you on. ( Which says a lot because although he doesn't take you out often, dates with Xiao are always unforgettable experiences )
A breath leaves your lips and at last, your smile returns to your face and your courage returns, allowing yourself to gaze at him again. Xiao notices the change and physically relaxes at the sight. He notices that as well, it felt odd to be so at ease—almost uncomfortable—but he has little time to dwell on the feeling before you begin speaking.
"I ran into that Wushou Dancer I was telling you about. He was so polite, he even volunteered to push my cart from Qingce Village all the way back here to the Inn," As you spoke, you stuff some food in your mouth; only taking a small break from talking to chew before continuing, "I felt so bad that I ended up offering to make him dinner, but he declined!"
"Oh! I also saw Lady Xianyun at the marketplace a few days ago! She was buying so many trinkets, I feared she'd buy up everything that was offered there, hehehe~!"
As you rambled on, hopping from one story to the next, Xiao took his chopsticks in hand and picked up some tofu. He slide it into his mouth and the flavor hits his tongue with so much force, he couldn't help the way his eyes widened just a tad.
Something seemed different about this. Usually the almond tofu was sweet and brought reminiscent memories of the dreams he used to devour in his hayday, but this seems more intense. Even more delightful.. As your laughter tickles his ears and he takes another bite, a feeling of security slowly overcomes his being. Is this what Bosacius and Indarias was so fond of? This gentle feeling of bliss? The peaceful sounds of Teyvat? The sound of the excited rambles of someone they were fond of? Is this the reason Bosacius always tried so hard to convince him to join them during meals and listen to his tales? It makes regrets begin to bubble inside of him at the thought..
"Xiao?" He blinks, did he really just..zone out? Huh, that's not something that happens often..
"Are you..alright?" You ask with slight hesitancy, "Was I talking too much? If you'd prefer to eat in silence, I don't mind."
"No," He says immediately, "Please, keep talking. Your voice is.." He pauses, trying to find the right word to describe this feeling you've given him, this feeling that has accompanied some of his fondest memories, "It's..comforting to listen to."
A golden smile stretches across your face as the last of your fear finally leaves you. Now, without holding anything back, your rambling continues with no sign of ending anytime soon. As the birds chirp away in the back and the sun very slowly sets behind you, Xiao continues to indulge in the meal you so eagerly made for him.
Hm, turns out Bosacius was right. No matter how heavenly the dish already is, a meal will always taste best in the company of someone you cherish.
Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#xiao#xiao x reader#genshin impact x gn reader#gn reader#genshin impact fanfics#genshin impact fluff#genshin xiao#genshin fluff#genshin fanfic#xiao x gender neutral reader#xiao x you#genshin liyue#genshin impact liyue#liyue x reader#adeptus xiao#adeptus xiao x reader#requested
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Provocateur
matt stone x f!reader
genre: enemies to lovers, mature
summary: both trying to advance in the hierarchy of journalism, two sworn enemies will do anything (and anyone) to sabotage one another.
word count: 3.7k
cw: none really besides alcohol drinking. this is more an introductory chapter ❤️❤️ future chapters will be 18+
Her auburn hair shone under the stage lights as she answered questions at the podium. She had rather… interesting style, but that was a given considering she was the hottest artist in action right now. She wore a maxi dress made entirely from pages of her favourite books, mixed and matched poetry on frayed pieces of paper. With every step she took, you could hear the paper crinkle, and in no way was she comfortable. You couldn’t even wrap your mind around her Lady Gaga-esque fashion statements, or even the practicality of how her pieces worked. Albeit, you were completely and utterly fascinated by her. She was beautiful and had a cult following that would surely advance your career if you got the chance to write your article about her.
So that’s why you were here at the Metropolitan Museum of Arts in New York. You’d recently moved to a new prestigious journalism firm in the area, and you were more than prepared to step on some toes if you had to, determined to write your next piece on her. She went by the title Madame Provocateur, and by God, was that name perfect for her. She was here today to display her new artworks, selling for close to half a million dollars each. The artworks ranged from paintings depicting controversial opinions regarding war, to provocative nudist pieces, some even involving casts made of her and her partners’ genitals. As an art lover yourself, you were absolutely captivated by the sheer emotion of her pieces, especially when the overriding theme was rebellion and female liberation.
You dressed the part today, a long black faux leather coat that reached the back of your knees, matching faux leather books that hugged your calves. Your hair was slicked back, simple but dark makeup accentuating your features. You wore a beautiful - far too expensive - black dress underneath, sticking out like a sore thumb among the sea of people in bright colours.
As she stepped off the podium, you thought to yourself, this is my chance. You fixed your posture and casually approached her, the textbook definition of confident in your stature.
As you opened your mouth to introduce yourself, a tall figure in an obnoxious emerald green suit slinked in front of you. What is that material? Velvet? You internally cringed, velvet was your least favourite texture.
“Madame,” he spoke cooly, extending his hand for her to shake. “It’s an honour to meet you, I’m a huge fan of your work. My name is Matt Stone, I’m a journalist.” You fought back the urge to roll your eyes as he continued babbling; the poor woman couldn’t get a word in if she tried. You took a glass of champagne from the waiter holding one of the trays like you see in the movies. This place was fancy.
“I was hoping to get your permission to write an article on you and your dedication to provoking controversial conversations in an ever advancing world.”
Oh please, you thought to yourself. Wonder how long he spent studying the thesaurus for that one.
You decided to interject, stepping toward the two of them. You didn’t even bother to acknowledge… what did he say his name was? Mark? Doesn’t matter, you pretended he wasn’t there. No time like the present, right?
“So sorry to interrupt, Madame,” you smiled, extending your hand to her as the other journalist did. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I won’t bore you with a thousand words, but I’m also a journalist and would love nothing more to write my article about you.” You placed a hand over your chest sincerely, pretending not to hear the scoff that came from the other journalist. “I’ve loved you since I was a teenager, it’d really mean the world to me.”
She looked between the two of you, seemingly unimpressed. She sighed before speaking, “I wonder how many others will ask me the same thing. I get this a lot, you know,” her French accent was thick, and her stare was painfully intimidating to say the least.
You finally looked to the man beside you, who shifted uncomfortably in his place.
“But I suppose any press is good press,” she shrugged, looking between the two of you with pursed lips. “Write your little hearts out,” she feigned a smile, stepping away from the two of you.
You both stood there, absolutely shocked as you watched her disappear into the crowd.
He cleared his throat before turning to you, “didn’t catch your name. You are?”
“Y/N,” you looked up to him. Very handsome, short curly hair, peculiar oval shaped glasses.
“And your firm?”
“New York Times,” you grinned, still quite proud that you landed this position. “Trying to advance my position so, I really need this one.”
“Huh… never seen you around.” He rutted his jaw slightly before continuing, “I’ve been there for five years. I’m actually looking to advance as well so… I need this one.”
“Five years, huh? Never heard of you,” you stifled a grin as he clenched his jaw, starting to walk off.
He followed close behind, exiting the museum with you. “Well, I’m doing this story. Sorry, sweetheart. I’m sure something else will come up for you.”
You bit your tongue to hold yourself back from arguing, hailing a cab from the street.
“Well, I am too,” you smiled sweetly, a cab pulling up to the curb. “May the best journalist win.”
“You’ll be okay,” he smiled back this time, stepping toward your cab. “I’m sure you’ll get used to losing. Or maybe you already are.”
You were shocked at his confidence, staring into the cab as he climbed in, jaw slack.
“You getting in?” He smirked, patting the free seat beside him.
“Not with you,” you deadpanned, blood boiling at the way he shrugged and closed the door. You watched the cab pull away, arms folded over your chest like a spoilt child.
You climbed into the next cab, still in disbelief at what just unfolded with your supposed new coworker.
———
It was Friday morning the following day, and you walked into work with newfound confidence. You made your way into the large building, taking the lift to the highest floor to meet with your boss. Today he was setting you up with your own workspace and wanted to discuss what your next article would be. You knew your article would impress him, knowing the traction a story about Madame would bring. You scheduled your meeting extra early, hoping to be the first journalist to share your idea.
Once you reached his door, you knocked softly, awaiting his permission to enter.
“Come in,” you heard echo from the other side of the door, entering with a soft smile.
“Good morning,” you chirped, approaching his desk. His office was massive and had the most beautiful view of Manhattan.
“It is, isn’t it?” He smiled back, gesturing for you to sit before his desk. “We’re glad to have you on board.”
“Thank you, I’m so grateful for this opportunity,” you beamed, unable to contain the joy you felt. You hadn’t felt so excited in a long time, especially not for work.
“Speaking of opportunities, I see you’ve applied for our promotional position, yes?” He peered up at you through square framed glasses, his computer opened on what you presumed to be your file.
“Yes, sir,” you nodded, folding your hands over your lap. “I chose the topic for my article. Madame Provocateur, the French artist. She’s been the centre of a lot of controversy lately, I feel like she’ll bring us a lot of attention.”
“Well, you might have some competition,” he pursed his lips, checking the time before continuing, “our own Matthew Stone has taken an interest in her as well. He should actually be here soon.”
That motherfucker.
“May I ask what his article is specifically going to be about? Like, what topics will he cover?”
“Hm, I’ll be honest, he likes to stir the pot,” he chuckled, and you fought off a scoff. “He’ll likely be writing an exposè piece as he typically takes that route.”
You sucked your teeth, sinking back into your chair. Well, fuck. You definitely have competition.
“I’m happy for the two of you to discuss your articles, the last thing we need is interpersonal conflict.“
You heard an abrupt knock on the door, followed by none other than Mr Stone walking through the door wearing a well fitted grey suit.
You fought against the muscles in your eyes, forcing yourself not to roll them. I’m going to have a good day, you told yourself. My piece is going to be better, I am better.
“Good morning,” he grinned, taking a seat beside you. He took one look at you and his smile was wiped clean. “Oh… hello.”
“Morning,” you mumbled, shifting your eyes to your hands. The tension in the room grew thick immediately, the feeling comparable to hands around your throat.
“Do you two know each other?” Your boss spoke up, gesturing between you both.
“Nope,” you spoke up, flashing the best fake smile you could muster. You turned to face him, putting your hand out for Matt to shake. “Y/N, you must be Matthew? It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Yeah, likewise,” he gave you an equally fake smile, squeezing your hand a bit too hard. You winced silently, pulling away.
“Matthew, Y/N is writing a piece on Madame as well.”
“Oh, is she?” He turned to you, jutting his jaw as he had the night before.
“I want you to be adults about it. You’re both located in block B, so I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to discuss.” Your boss gestured to the door, silently kicking the both of you out.
“Uh, block B, sir?” Matt questioned, tilting his head like a confused puppy would.
“Just for the time being,” he dismissed, eyes going back to his computer. “Your office is being renovated over the weekend, did you forget?”
“Oh, right, yeah.” He nodded, standing from the seat. He leaned forward and shook the bosses hand. Giving you one last look before leaving the room.
You followed suit, thanking your boss before following after the tall brunette. His steps were so large, you struggled to keep up. He got in the elevator and you had to practically run to make it in. He just laughed under his breath while you stared him down with daggers.
“So what’s your plan, huh?” You finally broke the silence between you both, immediately annoyed at the drawn out sigh he released. “An exposè?”
“Controversy sells,” he shrugged. “You’ll learn that after you get more… experience.”
You scoffed, following him out of the elevator to the B block of cubicles. “You know, I was gonna write the same thing.”
“Oh, really?” He asked, though it was more rhetorical sounding, as if it went in one ear and out the other.
“Mhm,” you followed him to two empty desks, one presumably yours as he took a seat at the one to the right. You took your seat, setting down your belongings, leaning on your elbows before continuing, “I have some connections.”
“Connections?” He scoffed, shaking his head before logging into his computer.
“I know where she’s headed this Saturday.” You spoke matter-of-factly.
“Mhm, the Little Red Door,” he looked up to you, mocking the surprised look on your face.
“How did you-“
“Look, kid. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but it would be smart for you to pick a new topic.”
“Maybe I should,” you feigned a sigh, turning to log into your own computer. He seemed pleased with himself, patting you on the back before leaving his desk. This guy clearly got too much praise from mummy and daddy and genuinely believed the sun rose every morning for him. There was no way you were letting him upstage you. Somebody needed to knock him down a few pegs, and you were the perfect person to do so.
It was 5pm now, your eyes were going all blurry from staring at the screen all day. You jumped when you felt a big hand clasp your shoulder, turning to see none other than Matthew.
“Sorry, jumpy,” he laughed, gesturing to the clock on the wall. “It’s 5pm on a Friday. I’m not spending another minute longer in this building. Let’s go.”
“Let’s go?” You scoffed, logging off your computer and grabbing your things. He was still standing there… waiting for you?
“What’s an uptight girl like you get up to on a Friday night, hm?” He walked with his hands in his pockets, seemingly only bringing his phone and car keys to work. Douche.
“Oh, where to begin?” You joked, stepping into the elevator with him.
“I’m heading out for a drink if you wanna come,” he suggested, eyes scanning your face. Was he seriously asking you out?
“Maybe another time,” you shrugged, trying to maintain the attitude that you didn’t care. Or at least make him believe that. “Got a lot of research to do tonight. This guy at work stole my idea so uh, while he’s wasting time at the bar, I’ll be getting closer to my promotion.”
“I stole your idea?” He laughed incredulously, shaking his head at you. “I knew you were young but I didn’t think you were so immature.”
“Geez, sorry. Didn’t mean to strike a nerve,” you studied his face, the way his eyebrows knitted together when he was frustrated, the way he lazily leaned against the rails in the elevator. The way his dress shirt hugged his biceps so nicely. Stop, you scolded yourself mentally. “You don’t get rejected often, do you?”
He just shrugged, staring ahead at the elevator doors. “You might be pretty, but your looks don’t mean anything if you’re a bitch. I was just trying to be nice.”
You stood there, a bit speechless. This guy confused you on every level. First he was an arrogant asshole, then didn’t speak to you all day, then asks you out for drinks?
“I’m a bitch because I don’t want to go out with you? Get over yourself,” you scoffed for what felt like the thousand time that day, rolling your eyes at him.
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he stepped through the elevator doors, walking away as he continued, “enjoy your ‘research,’” making air quotes with his fingers.
Why was I so rude? Wait, was I even rude? I’m allowed to say no. You were left again, conflicted and rendered speechless with one underlying thought.
He thinks I’m pretty.
When you got home, you followed your very structured routine. Feed the dog, shower, have dinner, then you could relax. You tried to do what you set out to do, pulling out your laptop to start your research.
All you could think about was Matthew, Matthew, Matthew. He plagued your brain; his pretty eyes, warm, deep voice, the way your stomach flipped when you kept replaying the moment he asked you for drinks.
Why did I say no? You mentally cursed yourself, deciding to crack open a bottle of red and try enjoy yourself. Truth is, you wanted to say yes. But something was holding you back. Maybe if you softened once you’d let him walk all over you? Maybe being nice was his way of throwing you off your game? Too late now.
You fought the thoughts of him the best you could, but eventually, you were overcome with curiosity. You reluctantly opened facebook, typing in his name. Turns out Matt Stone was a very common name. You eventually found him, seeing you had a few mutual friends.
Funny, when he wasn’t scowling or laughing at your expense, he was actually very handsome. Like… gorgeous. Aquiline nose comparable to a Greek God, the sharpest jawline you’d seen in a long time. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled, and his lips curved up revealing a small gap in his front teeth. You continued to scroll through his pictures, getting deep enough to see pictures from his early twenties. Woah. Big hair. Lots and lots of curls, and those oval framed glasses he seemingly always had.
You learned a bit about him. He was roughly 5-10 years older than you. He went to college in Colorado, but must’ve dropped out. He clearly thought he was hot shit, judging by the hundreds of photos on his timeline. He was unbelievably handsome, but you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing you thought that.
By the time you’d finished the whole bottle of wine, the liquid courage coursed through your veins, controlling your fingers, adding him as a friend.
Shit, what if he thinks I was stalking him?
He added you back almost immediately so… too late. You tried to ignore the giddy feeling you got when you got the notification, opting for blaming it on the alcohol.
———
You had a somewhat productive day, having written the beginning of your article and feeling pretty good about it. Tonight, Madame was going to be at the Little Red Door; a small-ish bar located in downtown Manhattan. It was quite exclusive, but luckily, you had connections. It was relatively cold in Manhattan you’d grown to learn, so you put on a mid length, beige Burberry coat, with a fitted black dress underneath for once the alcohol heated you up. Your black stilettos clacked along the wooden floor in your apartment as you grabbed your handbag and headed out. It was approaching 7pm, and this was around the time Madame was expected to show.
You walked in, being greeted by the bartender you occasionally hooked up with. Whoops.
“How’s my favourite lady?” He beamed, already preparing your drink without you having to order.
“So so,” you smiled, tilting your hand side to side. “And you?”
“Better now,” he grinned, sliding the martini toward you. “This one’s on the house. Talk soon, okay?”
You nodded, blushing a bit as you found a table to sit at. He was handsome, tall, dark features, tattoos completely covering his arms. He was nice enough too, had a nice place, nice car. He was a bit of a coke head though, so you reserved your time with him for strictly sex only.
Fifteen minutes passed and still no Madame. You were halfway through your second martini when Matthew walked in. You knew he would be here, part of the reason you spent extra time on your makeup tonight.
You watched him order, deciding whether you should approach him or act like you didn’t see him. He seemed to have made his mind up, walking straight past you to an empty booth. Your heart accelerated when you saw him. Dressed more casually than at work, but still, he looked so clean. A black fitted t-shirt with black slacks. He had a silver chain on and his usual watch. He watched the band performing live music as he sipped on his beer, tapping the table along to the song.
Either he actually didn’t see you, or he was pretending not to. There he goes stealing my idea again. You decided to bite the bullet, taking a deep breath before grabbing your drink and approaching his table. He finally acknowledged you as you walked over, eyeing you up and down, righting himself in his seat.
You slid into the booth, blank expression. “Matt.”
He cleared his throat, bringing his gaze to your eye level.
“Jumpy,” he nodded toward you, taking another sip of his beer.
“I want to apologise for being rude to you,” you couldn’t meet his gaze, always having a weird reaction to sincerity. “You were just trying to be nice and I was being salty. Sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he smiled slightly, looking to his hands on the table. “Shouldn’t have called you a bitch.”
You sucked your teeth, only nodding in response. It was slightly awkward considering you only met two days ago and you’d already gone through the emotions of despise and lust for this man.
“I don’t think she’s coming,” you broke the silence, fiddling with the toothpick in your martini.
“That’d be my luck,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair.
Again, awkward silence. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Want another drink?”
He nodded, eyes glued to the band playing across the bar. Asshole. Whatever, you were gonna leave after this drink anyway.
You wandered back up to the bar, ordering a drink for you and your coworker.
Your occasional friends with benefits bartender looked almost offended, looking in the direction of Matt. “You on a date?”
“Him? Oh god no,” you shook your head incessantly, scrunching your face up in distaste. “Co-worker. We just happened to run into each other, I guess. He’s a prick.”
“Want me to spit in his drink?” He laughed, and you laughed too for the first time tonight. You shook your head again, taking the drinks from him.
“Thank you,” you smiled, walking away still giggling. Matt’s eyes were trained on you as you approached the booth again, sliding the drink to him.
“Weird, you must have a funny side,” he murmured, taking the drink from you.
“Are you gonna thank me, or?” You deadpanned, both of you in a staring competition now.
“Thank you,” he smiled, eyes still glued to you. “So who is that guy?”
“Just a friend,” you shrugged, eyes finally leaving his.
“Friends don’t look at each other like that,” he pursed his lips, toying with the neck of his bottle. “Are you fucking him?”
You snapped your head around at this, sure your ears were deceiving you. “‘Scuse me?”
“C’mon, you’re obviously screwing each other.”
“I- wh- that isn’t any of your business, Matthew,” you stuttered, tripping over your own tongue as your cheeks reddened. His face lit up at your implicit admission, a little bit surprised.
“Guess you aren’t as uptight as I thought,” he chuckled, and you threw him a glare.
“Like you’ve never had meaningless sex before,” you rolled your eyes, unamused by the mischievous look on his face.
He shrugged, still grinning. “Touché. I wanna hear more about this. Wanna do some shots?”
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Okay... committing the extreme sin of actually acknowledging discourse and salt, but fuck it, I would like to say this.
Bitching about how Dean and Cas didn’t get to kiss, especially in an industry where m/f couples are able to kiss after only 7 episodes: valid and understandable and correct, we live in a heteronormative society of double standards for media
Bitching that John and Mary “get to kiss already” when Dean and Cas didn’t: you are not seeing the forest because of the trees
The former point is part of what this show is fucking saying, precisely through the very effective, unsubtle, and repeated Destiel parallels. Part of the reason the show exists AT ALL is to convey that very concept.
Like... if you don’t get this show is deliberately commentating on and critiquing the ending of SPN, then you’re not understanding it!!! Or perhaps–whether or not you're watching it (🙄)–you're doggedly approaching the existence of this show with unfounded wariness in bad faith!!!
I get that people were wary when the show was announced, because I too was not immune to being concerned. I shitposted with the best of them. But now? We're seven episodes in. We've seen that this show is very loud and consistent with its themes, motifs, and veritable verbal bricks that Dean Winchester himself beautifully lobs at our heads to make sure there can be no confusion about some of the key takeaways and lessons. He's leading all of us to water and some of you are actively refusing to drink it.
This show isn't being shy about what it is. It takes a special kind of jaded to look at such content that’s speaking to you, vindicating you, and essentially say “this is probably mean and designed to hurt me for reasons I don’t know yet.” It's very evident to me that being angry at the Supernatural franchise is now a sport, and some people are trying to win it, when in reality that is simply loser behavior.
And my thing is that people will lob around words like bait or clowning or being wary, or whatever the fuck, and I'm like... what are people wary OF? Literally what! WHAT is the expectation here, whether good or bad? Some people are bitching as if they're afraid of getting burnt but like ??? how? What is the fear here!! There is none!!!
Are we afraid that John and Mary, as Dean and Cas parallels, are gonna die? Sorry, we know how that goes! Are we taking this as promise Dean and Cas will show up on screen together in episode 13? Well, whoever is implying that or believing that with sincerity is playing themselves because there is no earthly logical reason to expect that at this juncture.
If everyone could just pay attention to the text of a show on its own merit then maybe we’d have world peace. This show is promising nothing specific in any sense–other than surprises and music and Carlos being fabulously reliably bi–and therefore there is no "bait" (for the love of God) and there are no "hopes" to have that could then be dashed. It’s the most low stakes watch ever. Either we get pleasantly surprised by various things or WE KNOW THE TRAGIC END. Every week is just a fun little gift, to be taken on an episode-by-episode basis!
So it's the journey that matters, not the destination, and it also turns out that that journey has been designed to be filled with unexpected depths. They did NOT have to make this the ever-spinning wheel of Dean mirrors show with new reflections every episode! They did NOT have to provide gleeful parallels to Destiel to repeatedly emphasize how romantic Destiel was from start to finish throughout their story! THEY CHOSE TO DO THAT. And it’s like some people can't conceptualize all of these parallels and all of the mirroring can be on purpose, and to a purpose, while also... [checks notes] not promising explicit Destiel content. (Because why would you think that it is?)
It’s almost like the team involved with this especially Robbie Thompson have something to say, like Dean, and are saying it via the avenue available to them. This show is validating us around constraints and having fun along the way. But perhaps the prerequisite to understanding that–and not approaching any of this in bad faith–is knowing and acknowledging the fact that those constraints exist at all. In other words: if you're a person who still blames "the writers" for the fact that Dean and Cas did not kiss, for example, then the forest you are missing is the heteronormative society that media exists in and the censorship that limits it.
The m/f couples get to kiss when sometimes the m/m couples don't get to not because the writers are mean but often because the people who limit the writers are. This show is playing into that, taking John and Mary through some of Dean and Cas' greatest hits–and I suspect it will continue to do so after the kiss, obviously–in order to say If this is romance, then so is Destiel, in case you somehow missed Cas' confession or doubt the love is reciprocal. If John and Mary get to kiss, so should Dean and Cas. And that, amongst other reasons, is why it's so much fun.
You're not pointing out a fault in the show by clocking that. Dare I say you're fucking using the show the way it's meant to be used, and calling bullshit on SPN's ending the way it wants you–in every capacity–to call bullshit on it. Which is why Dean is narrating at all.
Plus, as Robbie Thompson helpfully says in this interview:
When we first got together in the writers room, it was obviously top of mind when you’re dealing with a show that’s a love story. At what point do you want to really show them take that leap? We always knew we were going to have a winter break or midseason finale of some kind, and it felt like from a dramatic standpoint, that was very quickly on the board as it felt like the right place to put it.
And then it was a question of, “Why this moment?” To your point, obviously, life-or-death moments have a tendency to exacerbate things… The fallout of that kiss is something that we’re going to play for the rest of this first season. You have those moments where you’re swept up in the moment, and it’s like, “OK, here we go.” And then it’s like, “Oh, wait, the world didn’t end. OK. Now what do we do?”
Or, to put it simply:
The romantic moment that happens while the characters are trapped in a room while a threat bangs against the door should not be positioned as the end of a love story. Because there's more story to tell.
Anyone who’s actively repeatedly bitter about this show's existence (whether they’re watching it or not) is choosing to give themselves a bad time at this point. There’s no legitimate reason at this stage to be bitter about what this show is doing. If you wanted the show to suck, then I regret to inform you that ship has sailed because it is indeed quite good. And perhaps... if you are determined to be cynical or bitter about it in the corners of the internet or on the posts where people are enjoying it... you could consider Not Doing That.
#also if you are nitpicking Robbie's use of the phrase 'slow burn' touch grass. thank you.#the winchesters#ABSOLUTELY MADDENING CONTENT IN THESE STREETS ON THIS WEBSITE TODAY#spnwin#spnwin meta#sort of anyway.#I've never seen people so determined to be obtuse or bitter or both in my LIFE. what's not clicking!!!!#WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF!!!! this is rhetorical btw#char writes things#can't believe I wrote this post instead of meta about the ep. mess.
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heavy is the silence that falls around the tent. most of the eyes surrounding them are trained uncomfortably on the floor, or flitting to neighbors to gauge their reaction— they look anywhere but at the 3 people in the center of the room. thor, rey. . . and ben. a hand is clasped none - too - gently around his arm; a more delicate touch finds thor’s chest, though he doesn’t look away from ben. the tension is palpable, the loathing apparent. the distrust, the fear; they are at each others’ throats like long - time enemies. thor can’t tell which emotion is the strongest.
awful memories rise to the surface of his mind. when last he was left out of a fight involving the two of them. . . he had almost lost her forever. it had been ben’s doing. is it worse— now that he has begun to gain trust and earn the respect of their friends? thor thinks so. to lose to an enemy is one thing; to dare begin to see and accept the light only to be betrayed is devastating. thor isn’t intent on reliving the past.
to go along against their wishes, refusing to cooperate, would slow them down. not all problems can be solved with brute force, a strike of lightning. he knows that. two sides of the same prophecy combining their powers, simply, makes more sense. it is quicker, more efficient. it doesn’t mean he likes it. but all know, surely, the depths of his distaste for the dyad.
merely thinking it twists & coils at his stomach: they share something he will never understand. they share something he can’t protect her from. before, ben had had the chance to handle her mind with care. instead he chose to punish her. thor isn’t likely to forgive and forget— made evident by the rage that burns along the surface of his skin, the jerk that brings ben’s face closer to his own. distant, quiet, thunder rumbles amongst a rainstorm outside.
“this is a chance to prove yourself,” thor starts, his voice gruff. “for your own sake, i hope— sincerely— that you take that chance to restore the faith in you that has long since been lost. the alternative will cost you your life. if you betray her, if you allow anything to happen to her—“
@lightsiided : nothing will take me away from you.
though he fights it, he lets his eyes shift to rey’s face. beyond the reassurance, he sees the pleading in her eyes. the sound of her voice is soothing. a coolant to his fire. looking into the face he loves threatens to soften him, to weaken the angry exterior to expose something much more vulnerable beneath. the falter is visible on thor’s face, audible in his exhale. the feather-light trail of fingers along his arm doesn’t help.
“if you allow anything to happen to her,” he repeats, returning his attention to ben, “nothing will stand between you and i. i want to ensure that you understand me completely: she is the only thing that has kept you safe thus far. should something happen to her, nothing will stop me.”
thor remains as he is a moment longer, his eyes locked on ben’s. the rage has dissolved, leaving behind only knowing. a cold finality. as surely as he draws his next breath and hears his pulse in his ears, he knows the violence that will follow any harm coming to his wife. carelessly— with a light shove— ben is released, and thor steps back. he eyes everyone around them, before his gaze settles on rey again.
he is only ever soft with her. all the love returns to him as he turns into her touch, at last. the press of his fingers to her arm is soft. “will you come find me, before the two of you leave? i would like to have a moment alone to say goodbye.”
#lightsiided#𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧. main#wouldve grabbed him by the throat#but he wouldnt wanna cause a scene
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⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ about eri !
hello ! so first and foremost, my full name is erilyn. i go back 'eri' as a nickname. i started this blog because i love to write & recently got into the marauders fandom as a joke, but now i'm emotionally attached. there's no turning back now, i suppose
this is going to sound super pick-me, but i swear it's true. normally, when i have a conversation with people, i try to keep the topic more directed toward them because i have a hard time talking about myself. so i very sincerely apologize if this post is structured weird, worded strange, or anything like that. i'm genuinely struggling suuuper badly right now #help
okay, anyway ! some of my favorite to do are read, write, listen to music, and snuggle my cats. it's a pretty short / bland list of grandma hobbies, but i love them more than life itself.
one of my favorite books is obviously atyd, it's what i read to first get involved in this little community, so it will forever hold a dear place in my heart. regardless of how basic of an answer it comes off to be. but as for physical (non-fanfic) books, my favorite is definitely powerless by lauren roberts.
i've been writing for as long as i can remember. there are pictures of me as a baby writing shit down as though it actually meant something. but when i was thirteen, i decided to actually write for a purpose ⎯ which would make my work mean something in an attempt to make baby eri proud. i've written a TON of short stories, and a few original completed books. none of which are published, of course. my imposter syndrome is far too severe for that kind of commitment..
since i mentioned music, i'd love to list some of my favorite artists (i say that as if anyone actually gives a shit). my all time, forever number one favorite is hozier. he's everything to me. his music means so much, and the poetic nature behind his lyrics is everything i strive for my own writing to come off as. a few other artists i enjoy : lana del ray , david bowie , noah khan , the weeknd , queen , mac miller , the lumineers , coldplay , benson boone , arctic monkeys , the smiths , rhcp (red hot chili peppers). as well as so so so so many more. my music taste is honestly all over the place, and i apologize, but i wouldn't trade it for the world because it's literally entangled into my soul & makes me who i am.
oh my god now i get to yap about my cats! AHH!
i have two kittens (they're over a year old now, but i will forever & always see them as my little baby kittens, fuck off). their names are indie & teeves. indie is super cuddly and loves her momma to death. she hides from everyone who isn't me, and will scratch you if you look at me the wrong way. teeves, on the other hand, is waaaay less sociable. she hides from everyone ⎯ like indie. but unlike her sister, teeves hides from me as well. nobody can ever find her unless she eating or using the bathroom. i'm a tad bit offended by her ignorance, but as long as she's happy i'm happy.
alright i'm done yapping now ! i'm honestly surprised if you made it all the way through my rambling, seeing as none of it was interesting for anyone except me. i hope you guys enjoy my page & my writing provided. if you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask, my DMs are always open if you need someone to talk to. i love you guys !!!
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hey if you want otw to change its requirements for candidates to be able to run for board elections, how about you contact them directly rather than scream into the void about it?
https://www.transformativeworks.org/contact_us/ general contact form
https://elections.transformativeworks.org/contact-us/ election committee contact form
like. i get it. yall are upset that someone with stances that oppose what ao3 and otw stand for was running. none of us liked that - obviously. but demanding “answers” from otw, or calling for “investigations” into how tiffany g got in is... fucking stupid. like. there is no other, nicer way to put that. stop being reactionary morons about it. tiffany met every single requirement to run. there is nothing to investigate. otw has nothing to answer for. it was a valid election just like every single other election they’ve had in the past. and that is the POINT of having an election - so the people affected by board decisions have a say in who gets to make those decisions. some of your concerns are valid (your xenophobic and blatantly racist ones, however, are not. but thats deserving of a whole separate post) but the way those concerns are being handled are frankly ignorant and immature.
what you need to do if you want to see a change is voice your concerns to them, DIRECTLY. i cannot stress that enough. screaming on their twitter and tumblr pages will not do anything. those are not the channels in which they communicate with individuals about the vast majority of issues that are brought up. you might as well go scream at a bulletin board in your local town square about why one person was allowed to run for city council when what you should be doing is calling/emailing/sending a letter to your city council office and/or election board. (also if you got this fired up about an otw election i STRONGLY urge you to get this passionate about your local govt elections. please.)
this has proven a huge chunk of yall simply do not read what otw has made very easily available. otw has always been extremely transparent about quite literally everything they do and just because you’ve never bothered to read up on anything ever at all doesn’t give you the right to be assholes to their already overwhelmed volunteer staff. nor is the threat of not donating for their next drive unless they meet your demands the moral high ground you think it is. that’s just entitled, capitalistic rhetoric. karenness of the highest degree. otw is not a business and you are not a paying customer. imagine threatening a non-profit that you’re not going to donate to their fundraiser that *checks notes* oh yeah, keeps the entirety of ao3 and every other otw project running. if that is your response and attitude, perhaps you’re better suited for wattpad or ff.net.
i sincerely hope this was enough of a wake up call to pay more attention and be more informed about the spaces you love on the internet, but especially otw spaces. i understand how easy it is to take a service like ao3 for granted, but we can’t get complacent about our fannish spaces. so i beg yall, get more involved. be it by volunteering, discussing policies with otw staff, thinking up actual helpful and comprehensive suggestions and proposing them, or even just educating yourself better on how otw functions and what they stand for.
#otw#ao3#fanfiction#writing#fandom#i'm tired and old and yall test my patience#this whole debacle has made me extremely disappointed in fandom at large#we as fans have got to do and be better#period
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You Are All That Matters
Hello, I sincerely apologise for updating really late. I got knocked off by life and somehow I wasn’t able to continue this fic but thank God, I finally managed to write this chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter and hopefully this makes sense and thank you for reading this. I appreciate it so much and once again, I’m deeply sorry for updating really late.
Warning: Violence.
Chapters: 15/?
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“There weren’t just two people involved in the incident back then.” He takes a pause, “there were three.” Before I managed to ask what the hell he is talking about, the man in front of me is taking off the ugly mask he is wearing and making his face is fully exposed. In the middle of dark forest with the limited light source, I unfortunately can still see his familiar face clearly which looks worn out with the obtrusive stubble and tiring eye bags.
I’m crushed.
Have you ever heard about Elisabeth Kübler-Ross? She was a psychiatrist and one of her great contributions in this world is her theory about five stages of grief. Those stages are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally an acceptance. These stages are our attempts to accept the change, the reality that hits hard, the loss we have been through, and our effort to adapt with the hurting truth. To summarise, it’s basically saying the process to accept what it’s unacceptable.
And I think I’m already in the first stage; denial.
I’m confusedly looking at the man in front of me. Richy Rogers. He is avoiding eye-contact with the clenched jaw. Is he feeling guilty? Feeling shame? Humiliated? I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now. I don’t even know if what it’s in front of me is real or just a product of my stress. I don’t know… I don’t want to know anymore.
“Ten years ago,” he finally is speaking after the silence between us. His breath is slow and hard. “Hannah and Amy showed up on my doorstep.” He is taking glance at me before looking away again. “Pine Glade was almost over. Stuck already. They wanted me to drive them to Grimrock because Amy lost something there… I can’t even remember what it was,” he quietly scoffs. “I had been at the festival the whole day, I was drunk.” He let out the dry laugh then looks at me. “I had a couple of drinks… I said no… but they insisted… they were in a hurry… they already made this huge detour to get to me so… and I had been driving around our yard a couple of times… so, I gave them the key to an old AMC Gremlin—one that should have been scrapped a couple days later. So I thought, there is no harm in that.”
“Right?” He shrugs then look at me; asking for my judgement probably, but I’m not sure if that’s his intention. because before I managed to response, he already throw his gaze at somewhere else again. There is a long pause between us, this time his face look more tensed. The atmosphere around him somehow is also changing; it becomes heavier than before. I know where this is going.
“A couple of minutes they showed up again… and I almost didn’t recognise the car.” He is trailing off, “there was blood on the windshield… there was blood on the bumper…”
No, no. Stop talking.
“And none of them were capable to as much as other to sing a word. I thought they must have hit an animal—some deer that jumped in front of the car. So, I drove them to the spot…” he is taking a deep breath.
Please stop.
“And there she was… a girl… covered in blood… lifeless.” He let out a quiet sigh. “We buried it in the forest… we never spoke a word of that again…” he is slowly putting his gaze on me, I’m still unable to understand that expression. “I’m sorry.”
I’m falling apart. And right now, I think I’m leveling to the second stage; anger.
I’m letting out a bitter laugh, it’s so bitter until I think I can even taste the imaginary flavour of it on the tip of my tongue. All of these strange feelings I have noticed, all of those sketchy situations—I already have this presumption before, but seems like my emotions and illogical trust with him cloud my perspective. Without I was aware, I had ignored all the proofs which pointed at him being suspicious all this time.
Don’t cry, don’t cry. Don’t you dare to slip even a single tear, MC!
“I have always known, but I didn’t want it to be true.” I slowly lift my gaze down, looking at the grass or Richy’s feet, I don’t know. I don’t want to look at him in the eyes. My mind is totally blank or even completely full until it stops processing. I don’t know anymore. “You were leading us on all this time.” I remember how he was so cooperative about everything; he even stayed to our investigation about Man Without A Face, he even talked to Phil about his rude comments of Hannah, he answered all of my questions about Hannah’s car, he…
“All the threatening calls…?”
I suddenly realised with all the creepy calls and video-calls I have received, those scary distorted voice and ugly mask—those calls are from Richy, the one who I thought is my friend. How he attacked Jessy and innocently look after her after he attacked Jessy that night. I understand how he marked himself, but Jessy? Who knows if he tampered Dan’s car like he did to the group’s cars? I lift my gaze and glare at him; my eyes are full with resentment and disappointment. “How dare you do this to us?” with clenching my knuckles, I can sense my blood is boiling because of the rage is filling in every cell of me. Richy Rogers, you are so fucked up.
“MC, please let me explain..” I snort hearing his voice. The sentence he just said is disgustingly funny in my ears. What else should he explains after the last story he just told is already a dropped bombshell in this sickening situation? Not to mention how he exposed himself as the perpetrator all along already dropped me down to the deepest ground of the earth. I should just leave from this place and call the police; let them to catch this douche bag in front of me.
But I didn’t. I close both of my eyes and take a deep breath. I open my eyes then slowly lift it to look at Richy. I’m going to regret this later but still… “Please explain,” I shouldn’t do this. “I need to understand.” This is stupid decision.
“I hadn’t thought of the accident for a long time until Hannah came to the garage one day. Her oil slump was broken because she had driven into a pothole.” His explanation reminds me with that time when I talked to him because of the Rogers’ Garage number is on Hannah’s phone list on the day she is missing.
“So, at least the thing about the oil sump wasn’t a lie.” I retort.
“No, it wasn’t. I noticed immediately that there was something wrong with her. But she didn’t want to say what it was.” His expression is showing his mind is wandering around, I don't know where but I feel like he's not exactly here right now.
“She excluded you even though it affected you, too.” I curl my brows, thinking hard what is the reason behind Hannah’s decision?
“She did. And I would have probably just left it at that. If I hadn’t seen Amy in Hannah’s car before she turned into my driveway. That worried me.”
“I suppose you weren’t in contact with Amy since the accident which is why the others thought Hannah didn’t know her.”
“That’s right. So I took a look at Hannah’s satnav…” I snort; I remember when Jessy told me that Richy said to her there is nothing in Hannah’s satnav. “The address in the satnav was that of Iris Hanson and then I knew that my worries were justified. I drove to Amy and she told me everything, Hannah found that bracelet and then she suddenly saw figure by the edge of the woods.”
I frown after hearing the last sentence. “So, it really was just her imagination?”
“He never existed, MC. I knew it was a time. We had run away from it for long enough—”
“You bet, it’s 10 years already…” I thought I was talking to myself but he didn’t speak anymore and instead tilt his head and looking at me. I think I just cut off his self-advocacy. “So, you went to the police?” I ask, or accuse? I don’t know which one.
“I told Amy we should finally turn ourselves in but she didn’t want to hear about it. She said Hannah was only imagining the Man Without A Face and that she just wanted to forget everything. So I made sure Amy would see him too.”
I laugh desperately, the mental image of Amy’s letter that I just found out in that strange room is popping out in my brain. This is much way fucked up that I have imagined it is. “But it didn’t go the way you planned, yes? Amy killed herself because of your brilliant acting skill.” He didn’t answer me immediately, I’m not sure but I think his expression somehow scares the shit of me. In the glimpse of time, I cannot recognise the man in front of me anymore.
“Then, what about Hannah? Why did you kidnap her?” I ask, even though I’m not sure if I want to hear the answer.
“When I found Amy, her phone suddenly rang and it was Hannah. She left a voice mail and I listened to it, she said she had something to go against her pursuer. Something about her had set up a camera, so she must have filmed me with it.” He explains it with flat tone, his eyes are growing darker.
“So, that’s why you kidnap her?” I clench my knuckles, biting inside of my cheeks.
“I got scared,” he takes a pause. “I was… overwhelmed by the situation, and one thing lead to another.”
And that’s when I left all of my ability to tolerate this stupid thing behind. I’m rushing toward him with the form of fists on both of my hands. I jump to him like an animal and grip his hooded jacket with both of my hands, pushing him to the ground forcedly with the weight of my body; I don’t care if I don’t look like a decent human-being anymore. “One thing lead to another, you said? That’s why you marked Jessy? That’s why you attacked her? That’s why!?” I can sense the heat around my neck to my face, probably the blood is rushing around me because of my rage is exploding.
“I did it because I had to prove it couldn’t have been Phil!” he scream the answer in front of my face, despite the lacking of light surround us, I still can see his face is also as red as the roses.
“Who the hell knows if I should believe all of your saying!? Did you tamper Dan’s car too!?” I’m still on top of him with grasping his jacket tightly; my hands are hurting because of it. Ah, I hate this. I can tell you that I will cry in the next second, my eyes are watery enough right now.
“I swear I didn’t do it! I told you his car is fine!” he is trying to let me go off from him, but I think I’m too strong and heavy for him. Lucky me, I guess.
“Did you expect me to believe you anymore, you traitor!? Why did you ask me to come here all alone? Did you want to kidnap or even kill me for being here just by myself!?” I ask him with the sharp tone, venting out all the frustration inside me.
And that’s when I misjudged he barely hard to push me off from him because I thought I’m too strong and heavy, but right now he easily shove me off and put me in the ground instead. His hands right now are wrapping around my neck, squeezing it tight until I’m hardly breathing. I’m looking him in the eyes; this is jumping out of my skin. I didn’t expect that Richy Rogers, the man that I thought is my new friend, is trying to strangle me with the death stare on his eyes like he really want to kill me right now.
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#duskwood fanfiction#duskwood game#duskwood#duskwood everbyte#duskwood mc#duskwood mwaf#duskwood richy
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this person who posted in the tags that you do "weird flanderization of Jonathan who suddenly is the most feral most strongest most specialest little boy who gets to meet all of the other characters." and that "he shouldn't be in the league at all" isn't because of your writing or anything but because they're mad that jonathan is taking up jekyll's spotlight in the league. i apologize on behalf of the j+h fandom they are notorious around here and now they have targeted you too.
I'll be honest, I seriously blanked on what post you could be talking about because my eyes kind of glazed over mid-rant when I was scrolling past it. (My pretty pink eye is always open but it doesn't always pay attention, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
On that note, I've mentioned before what my reaction to people/media being jerks about Jonathan Harker is *--
*Spoilers: It means I make even more gratuitously indulgent Jonathan Harker content. I'm making a whole monster AU sequel novel centered around the guy for crying out loud.
--and that was well before I started churning out fanfic for the LXGF comic that Does Not Exist Yet about the myriad public domain characters who are owned by no one, but who are, to the best of my knowledge, being written in a way that realistically grows from the canon of the books they come from. On that point, if their main issue is the League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk and my premature bootleg scribbling about the same, feat. Jonathan Harker? I guess it needs repeating (as it is made very clear on the comic's blog itself):
This is not Alan Moore's comic! The closest resemblance is the name! It is not, nor was it ever planned to be, a direct child of Alan Moore's work! Nor of any movie or musical or series or adaptation!
The characters and their potential adventures are based on what we can take from the actual books!
Which are being read en masse at this point by all the writers involved, as we love nothing more than inflicting book club after book club on ourselves. Anyway.
This isn't worth a meatier rant, honestly. Ditto for anyone's griping about how we're not catering specifically to their version of Jekyll and Hyde, or how they want the comic to be done, or how they want anyone who dares to write a story involving public domain characters to mimic their favorite adaptation or spinoff. None of the things they're complaining about are being made for them. They're being made by people who want those stories to exist for themselves and for anyone else who might like to see their stories. That's it.
I will say that I honestly hope they can get past whatever hang-up they have about these characters and their hobby of trying to shout or wheedle everyone else into playing along with their mean-spirited takes.
Because looking at the wider fandoms of all these classic literature and comic book fans? This person seems to be one lone sourpuss stamping their feet while everyone else is being chill or excited about their own stuff. Some have even done the easy thing and, you know, blocked the blogs/tags that upset them. I do it all the time. It's probably been done to me. I don't know and I don't care that I don't know.
I sincerely want this person to get to that headspace too. If only so they can find their way back to the point of being a fan, which is having fun with the content they enjoy rather than seeking out projects and people to throw bile at.
#no I won't link the post in question#odds are this person's already waved enough red flags to make plenty of folks back off#and I don't want anyone to jump onto hate spamming their inbox either#whatever their hang-up is about this Whole Thing ala Hyde and Jonathan Harker and the League of Gentlemen VS Gentlefolk etc#isn't a mess that will get untangled by giving them more attention; good or bad#fingers crossed that they'll step back and depressurize#but in the meantime?#people will go on writing what they want to write#nothing to be done about it#if they don't like it there's over a century of adaptations waiting to cater to them#me and the League writers are just sitting here doing the unthinkable#and basing our characters and adventures off of canon content that actually came from the books#anyway#writing#my writing#the league of extraordinary gentlefolk
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The Difference Between Guilt and Conviction
Guilt
The primary focus on the word guilt being used here is the emotion of inadequacy attached to it, and not so much the committing of an actual offence. This is the unholy counterfeit of the conviction of the Holy Spirit, used to manipulate and impede one’s ability to function as a child of God. Shame has to do with humiliation that crushes the soul. It thrives on embarrassment while calling it "exposure." Shame is the demonic counterfeit of being humbled. It seeks total destruction and disgrace, whereas, Godly humility raises the individual up. It’s a stinging emotion that feeds off of guilt and shortcomings by using reproach as its thorn.
The question is: are the feelings of guilt always bad? The answer is unequivocally yes! As already stated, guilt is a counterfeit of conviction. It effects the emotions. In fact, it uses them against the individual. Guilt drives a person further away from God; not closer, and it leads to shame and condemnation.
There is no love in guilt. Its’ very core is manipulative and destructive. For example, people use guilt to get others to perform in a manner that is pleasing to them. The only one who benefits is the one who employs it. There is no give or receive, it’s all take.
Guilt is also used as a weapon of retaliation. One way some get back at others for wrongdoing, is making them feel guilty about what they did. They are not interested in seeing the perpetrators repent; they just want them to pay. They want power over them, even to the point of making them grovel.
Guilt is also used to keep others at bay, or under their thumb. Before playing Holy Spirit, we should consider that we may actually drive others away, because we would be imparting guilt instead of conviction. Remember, the enemy uses it against people all the time, and should not be used by disciples of Jesus Christ.
Unfortunately, some attempt to escape feelings of guilt by doing things that actually produce more of it. For example, how many have turned to drugs and alcohol in hopes of extinguishing the dread of guilt, only to wake up the next day feeling more trapped than ever. Adding insult to injury, they discover that in their stupor they committed another offence; thus increasing their feelings of guilt.
How many have sought to compensate by overeating or power shopping, only to feel guilty about the overindulgence or purchasing things they couldn't afford with money they didn’t have? The list goes on. Impulsiveness can be a sign of compensation. Without true repentance, guilt perpetuates.
Another case in point: some may believe they repented for wrongdoing; and yet still feel guilty, because they are planning to commit the same offence again. Their idea of repentance was groveling over the remorse they felt as the result of the guilt. They used groveling to "show sincerity"; even though, there was none. As if groveling would make up for it. Some will say, “I’m sorry,” even though they haven’t repented. In essence, they’re really saying, “I’m sorry I got caught.”
Conviction
Conviction not only leads a person to repentance, it draws him closer to God, because the Holy Spirit is doing the work, based on His love. Of course, our job is not to play Holy Spirit; nonetheless, if He speaks and works through us, our words and actions, or even our silence and inaction, will convict.
Conviction calls for change and humility answers the call. Guilt just holds on and makes you aware of your shortcomings. With guilt comes pride, and with pride rationalization. After all, guilt beholds to no one when pride is involved. Pride cannot receive forgiveness, whereas humility does. Even though individuals may hate the feelings of guilt, pride will not allow them to be washed away. The odd thing about guilt is that it is self-perpetuating.
Pride does not allow one to do things God’s way. Those who feel guilty may seek to compensate for it, in order to alleviate the dread of those feelings. They may seek to do good things in order to deaden the feelings of inadequacy. They hope to balance the scale. Since they have impure motives, they're just dead works. While the deeds may benefit another, the focus is still on the self. For instance, when one offends another, he may use the old, “I’d feel better if you accept my peace offering” technique. It has nothing to do with how the other is negatively affected; he is more concerned with getting rid of the guilty feeling. Conviction on the other hand is concerned with the pain caused to others.
In turn, one may feel remorse, because he injured another. The desire is to restore and heal the other. You can discern when someone is driven by guilt, or impure motives by their statements. For instance, “I don’t want them to be mad at me.” As if, them not being upset somehow makes it okay. Pride tries to earn forgiveness; humility asks and receives it. The former manipulates; the later allows for the free exercise to forgive. In the former, one can never do enough to alleviate the guilt, so the individual feels guilty about his inability to make up for it. He has no sense of assurance he's been forgiven. On the other hand, when someone humbly receives forgiveness, guilt no longer plays a role.
Overcoming Guilt
Romans 8:1 There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.
In Christ Jesus, we are no longer condemned. We are free from condemnation as well as guilt and shame. Carrying guilt, shame, and condemnation essentially means one still needs to renew the mind. It's either that, or he does not believe the Word, and has not truly repented; thereby, holding himself captive to that bondage. Whoever we place above God’s Word is on the throne instead of God. Whatever we place above His Word is an idol. Therefore, the first step to overcoming this unholy thing is believing God, and taking Him at His word.
Romans 4:3 For what saith the scripture? Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness.
It is important to change our thinking to conform to His, which means spending focused time with Him, and reading Scripture while allowing Holy Spirit to minister His Word to you as read. Compare what you believe with what He says!
Romans 12:2 And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.
perfectfaith.org
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Love
" ' What is it you want ' she said. I want to be able to call you. I want to be able to knock on your door. I want to be able to keep your key and to give you mine. I want to be able to be seen with you in public. I want there to be no gossip. I want to make supper with you. I want to go shopping with you. I want to know that nothing can come between us except each other. Is that too much to ask for? "
Love is a topic that I think about a lot and even more nowadays due to changes in perspective. The definition has changed from my first relationship to now. Both of my relationships were long-term and like any person I thought I was in love in both of them, At the time it might have been fine to conclude that I was and I definitely cared for the people at the time. My definition of the word is no where near what it was before now. Someone came into my life and changed it, and it was the fastest and most drastic change that has ever happened to me. The soul is an amazing thing, and when meeting someone who upon minimal instances of interaction feels like its fate. There has never been a point in my life where I have concluded that something is fated but in this case it has to be the ONLY explanation. That is where love evolves into unknowns and infinites we neve thought it would go. The transformation of a person, who does not know how they actually are when meeting such person is amazing. Feelings, emotions, things that you never thought would be possibly just magically happen. " Souls are blended and merged with each other in so perfect a union that the seam which joins them is effaced a can no longer be found. " What other explanation is there other than this? NONE.
Loving under conditions. I think my concept of love to begin with was just extremely skewed, it is said that people accept the love that we think we deserve. Growing up with no actual connection with parents. I'm not going to say that I never got love growing up, I probably did but thinking back on it it felt like I did not get any. Not getting love means that it is not something that is spoken about. Majority of people, men, live their lives NOT being told that they are deserving of love at any point in their lives. I've heard stories of people genuinely breaking down in front of people after being told that they are deserving of love despite being in a relationship.
" Someone who would make time for you. Someone who you can let in. Someone you can go to for help. Someone that will offer you company when you need it." Does this count as finding your safety mechanism, as a way to fight such thing as anxiety. Is it not reliance? If I am being honest with myself it has helped me a lot but now I have been without it for so long it might just be my hyper independency speaking. I do not just see my future partner to be someone that is there to make me happy. Something that holds high value to me is growth and I do not want to fall in love. Yes the word is not meant in the literal sense. But I have gone on for a while now to use grow in love instead and I do not want love if it doesn't involve the growth of both people.
Current list of what makes me fall in love: consistency, reciprocity, intimacy, chemistry, humor, honesty, passion, energy. The ability to give me their perspective on a matter rather than correcting me on it. For them to have trust in me to self correct myself. A relationship where two people encourage each other to reach their respective goals while sharing each others hopes and dreams. They should be a source of inspiration and invigorating hope. Them wanting the best for me sincerely while holding each other accountable, vice versa.
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"Just because we don't talk, doesn't mean I don't think about you. I distance myself from you, because I know I can't have you."
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You decide you’re ready to have a baby. The catch? You’re not seeing anyone at the moment. Enter your best friend, Jeong Jaehyun. Will he be the answer to your dilemma?
Pairing: best friend!Jaehyun x f.reader
Genre: best friends to fwb to lovers, fluff, angst, smut (18+ only)
Warnings: mentions of infertility, pregnancy and childbirth, sperm donors, IVF (in vitro fertilization), fertility drugs, mood swings, fingering, unprotected sex, cum play, nipple play, breeding kink, oral sex (f.receiving), dirty talk, pregnant sex, rough sex
Word count: 10.6k
Taglist: @jaehyunnie77 @mrg-jjh @keeach (send me a message if you want to be tagged in future fics)
A/N: this was only meant to be a short fic but it morphed into this monstrosity. I tried to tag for everything but if I missed anything please let me know. Inspired by the fact that Jaehyun wanted to be a teen dad (but they are not teens in this story, just thought I’d make that clear :) Also please excuse my unimaginative name for the baby, I’m terrible at coming up with names lol
Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional so please excuse any inconsistencies.
“So what have you got planned for today?” your best friend, Jaehyun, asked you as he took a sip of his coffee, shielding his eyes from the sun’s rays coming through the window of the cafe.
It was your weekly Saturday brunch, at which Jaehyun would show up, nine times out of ten, hungover, wearing dark sunglasses, a baseball cap, a black t-shirt and sweats. There was never a deviation from this outfit, even on the times when he came not hungover.
“Oh not much, just an appointment at the fertility clinic this afternoon.”
Jaehyun paused, as you took a sip of your latte. You couldn’t see the look in his eyes through the sunglasses but his fork had stopped midway to his mouth. It hovered in the air, scrambled eggs sliding off of it and plopping onto the plate below.
“The where?” he asked, tipping his head to look at you above the top of his sunglasses.
“Fertility clinic. Looking into getting a sperm donor.”
The matter-of-fact way you were saying everything seemed to shock him, his fork still not moving towards his mouth or back onto the plate.
“Excuse me, a sperm donor?”
You put your coffee cup down, and sighed. “I don’t know why you’re so shocked, I told you before I wanted to have a baby.”
“I thought you were joking!”
“Well I wasn’t!” you don’t know why you were being so indignant, maybe because all you’d heard from everyone around you, from your parents to your doctor to the lady that sold you pretzels from a street cart, was negative. You shouldn’t have a baby without a partner, was the main point of contention, but how was that going to happen if you weren’t seeing anyone, and hadn’t had a serious relationship in almost a year.
“But a sperm donor, Y/N?” he asked, after mulling over what you just said.
“Yeah? What’s wrong with it?” you countered. You were so sick of everyone around you criticizing your plan.
“I don’t know, what if he’s like, a serial killer or something?”
“They do psychiatric assessments on everyone who donates.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have an undiagnosed illness-”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jaehyun!” you’d had it, letting out an exasperated huff, “Do you have a better idea? Do you want to be my sperm donor?”
You weren’t at all serious, you were just mainly upset and unfortunately, taking it out on him, but he actually sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised, as if he were contemplating it.
“Anyway, forget it. I don’t need your approval. I just hoped that you’d support me, of all people.” You couldn’t help but pout. He was your best friend and he’d stuck with you when no one else had. You may have said you didn’t need his approval but deep down you wanted him to be on your side.
He leaned forward, took his sunglasses off and looked you in the eye. “Of course I support you,” he said sincerely. “If this is what you want, then I’m with you one hundred percent of the way.”
You smiled, your heart feeling lighter, and just as you took a sip of your latte he said the one thing that would complicate your life forever.
“But I get to be that sperm donor.”
You spluttered, almost choking on your latte. “I wasn’t being at all serious, Jaehyun,” you chuckled nervously, but one look at his face and you could see he was being completely serious.
“I just don’t like the idea of some stranger being the father of your child,” he said quietly, looking down at his plate of food while he said it, “might as well be me, right?” He looked up at you hopefully.
You didn’t know what to say. This was your best friend, the one you’d grown up with, the one you’d catch tadpoles with, the one you’d drag to the playground with you, the one you told all your innermost secrets to. The one who knew you best. Didn’t it make sense then, that he would be the one to share this with you, in the end? You looked at his face; open, sincere, beautiful. You knew he was attractive, with the trail of broken hearts he’d leave in his wake, but you hadn’t really looked at him in that way before. Suddenly he was a new person to you, and now you didn’t know how to feel.
“Jaehyun, I-” you rubbed your hands together nervously, still unsure of what to say, “it’s a big thing, you know? This will change the rest of your life.”
He nodded, but there was no trace of hesitation in his actions. In fact, he looked as sure as anything. “Yeah that’s a given. But I’ve thought about it and I’m ready.”
“Jaehyun, you’ve literally thought about it for, like, the few minutes we’ve been sitting here.”
He smiled, “Actually I’ve thought about it for a long time.”
“About being a sperm donor?”
He laughed. “No, not specifically a sperm donor. But it’s a start,” he shrugged. “So what do I have to do?”
---
Jaehyun accompanied you to the appointment at the fertility clinic, where they outlined the plan and what was required of the two of you. It didn’t sound too bad, but you did find that having Jaehyun there to support you was really helpful. Every time the doctor explained something that made you nervous you would look over at him and he would smile confidently at you, sometimes squeezing your hand if you looked particularly concerned.
It was the fertility drugs they gave you, that threw your world into chaos. They had warned you of the side effects but you didn’t think it would be this bad. Your mood swung back and forth like a pendulum, one moment you were happy, the next you were crying into your cereal. You were irritable more than you had ever been in your life, and constantly snapped at every little thing. Not to mention that your breasts were sore and you had nausea, making you feel like you were pregnant already. You felt bad for Jaehyun when he was around for your mood swings and irritable moments, but he handled it much better than you thought he would. He’d give you your space when you needed it, but also sit by your side when you didn’t want to be alone. You found yourself thinking about how he would be as a father, but then you would remember that he was just the sperm donor.
One day, when he was sitting beside you on the couch, rubbing your back after you’d cried over your coffee order being wrong, you ended up asking him how much he wanted to be involved.
“We didn’t talk about the ‘after’,” you said, still sniffling. He stopped rubbing your back and looked at you.
“What do you want the ‘after’ to look like?” He asked, his tone level and gentle.
You had visions of Jaehyun rocking the baby to sleep, of Jaehyun seeing the baby walk for the first time, of Jaehyun teaching your child how to ride a bike, piano lessons, soccer games, first day of school. The perfect family. Except he wasn’t your husband, he wasn’t even your boyfriend. You didn’t know what to ask of him.
“I don’t know,” you whispered. He went back to rubbing your back.
“I’ll be as involved as you want me to be,” he said softly, “my only request is that I get to be a part of their life.”
That sounded fair, you thought. This was certainly going to be more complicated than getting a stranger as a sperm donor.
---
You went through several cycles of IVF, but none had been successful and you were losing hope. Not to mention the fertility drugs were really taking a toll on you, and the doctor had recommended taking a break. You were devastated, seeing it as the end of your dream, no matter how much the doctor reassured you that it wasn’t.
“There has to be another solution,” you pleaded at one appointment. Jaehyun hadn’t accompanied you and you felt yourself falling apart without his presence.
“Well, of course there’s the surefire way,” the doctor shrugged.
“What’s that? I’ll do anything!” you were hopeful once again at the doctor’s words.
“Regular sexual intercourse.”
Of course, you thought bitterly. You couldn’t help but think this was society punishing you for doing this without a husband. Undeterred, you resolved to discuss it with Jaehyun.
---
The look on Jaehyun’s face when you broached the subject was one you had never seen on him before. It was a mixture of shock, terror, resignation, and… something else, almost like acceptance, as if this were the natural course of things.
You resolved not to make it weird, it was just sex after all, and you would get a baby out of it, and that was the most important thing. However, your palms still got sweaty at the thought of it, your heart racing imagining him naked. You’d gone swimming with him plenty of times, went on beach outings often, and you realized you’d always avert your eyes from his bare chest. You figured you were just doing it to be polite, but you had no trouble looking at other men’s chests (you were only human, after all). You shook your head of your thoughts, while waiting patiently for him to agree or disagree to your request.
“I know it’s weird,” you began, when he still hadn’t said anything, “but I promise it won’t change anything in our relationship.” You needed him to agree, and at this point you would say anything to convince him. He looked at you thoughtfully, before he nodded.
“Okay, I’m in.”
---
You’d been keeping track of your cycle and had the days you were ovulating marked on your calendar, which you had shared with Jaehyun. It was agreed that he would come to your place after work, where you would have sex in the hopes of making a baby.
The first night you were nervous, pacing your room as you waited for him to come over. When the doorbell rang you literally jumped out of your skin. When you opened the door you were relieved to see that he was nervous too, although he tried his best to hide it. He joked around with you, trying to keep the mood light, and you had to admit you appreciated it. But when you got to the bedroom, you both went quiet. Jaehyun stood at one end of the room and you stood at the other, the bed looming between you.
“Do you want me to turn around while you get undressed?” he asked awkwardly, and you realized you hadn’t thought through the details.
“Um, yeah, sure,” you replied, and when he turned around you hastily undressed and jumped under the covers. “Done,” you advised, and he turned around. He didn’t make a move though, just looking at you pointedly, until you realized and turned your head away. Once he was done undressing you felt him lift the covers and get into the bed with you, and you couldn’t stop your heart from hammering in your chest.
“Y/N,” he said softly, because you still hadn’t turned back to him. “Can I touch you?”
You bit your lip, still not looking his way, and nodded. His touch made you jolt, even though his hand was warm, the electricity you felt made all your nerve endings feel like they were on fire.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his hand moving tentatively across your stomach. You nodded but you realized you were panting already, and he had barely touched you. “Tell me if I do anything you don’t like,” he suddenly whispered in your ear, and then he was kissing your neck.
You weren’t prepared for the intimacy, you had really only thought about the intercourse part. You hadn’t prepared yourself for the kissing, and the touching, and how he was so good at making you feel good. You felt like you weren’t supposed to enjoy it, that it was supposed to be “just sex” because you were friends and you weren’t doing this because you loved each other, you were only doing it to have a baby. But the more he touched you, the more he kissed you, the more you fell under his spell. You felt like you should tell him to stop, to just get on with it, but you knew he was doing it to get you nice and wet and therefore more comfortable to take him.
His kisses started to move along your jaw, towards your lips, and when he was finally there, his lips on yours, you felt a panic bubble up in your chest. It was too intimate, too much for someone who wasn’t yours. You pulled away, and he looked at you in surprise.
“No kissing on the lips,” you managed to say, maybe that would be enough to keep it less intimate, you told yourself. He nodded without saying a word, his hand coming up to your breast.
“Is it okay if I touch you here?” he asked, his eyes on yours. You thought for a moment and decided it was okay, and when you nodded he cupped your breast tentatively, all the while watching you for your reaction. When you didn’t pull away he squeezed gently, rubbing your nipple with his thumb.
You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a moan, because everything he was doing was making you feel so good. He kept watching your reaction, and when he was satisfied that you were reacting favorably he got bolder, his hand slipping down between your legs.
You yelped when he touched you there, your legs involuntarily closing and trapping his hand. He froze, looking at you with wide eyes.
“Sorry,” you apologized, flushing with embarrassment, “reflex reaction.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly, as you slowly opened up your legs again. He moved his hand slowly, gently, just rubbing the inside of your thigh. “You can relax, Y/N, I promise I won’t hurt you.” His words were soft, his tone gentle, and it did wonders to calm and soothe you.
You nodded, giving him the go-ahead, and he reached tentatively with his finger, just lightly touching your folds. The electricity you felt when he first touched you came back with a vengeance, and you almost melted right into the bed. Your reaction encouraged him though, and he pressed his finger further in, rubbing your wetness around. When he was satisfied with the state of your arousal he got into position between your legs, placing the tip of his cock at your entrance. He paused, looking you in the eye, gently stroking your cheek.
“Ready?” he asked gently, “I’ll go slow.”
You nodded vigorously, to be honest the anticipation was killing you and you were very much aroused, wanting him to just get on with it. When he pushed into you though, you realized you should really be careful what you wished for. The feeling of him stretching you was almost too much, every inch he pushed in agonizingly slow amplifying your arousal to a dizzying degree. By the time he was seated all the way inside you you were panting, almost out of breath already.
“Okay?” he asked, through gritted teeth. You could tell he was holding back for dear life, but he purposely went achingly slow to make sure you were comfortable.
“Yes,” you said, having adjusted to his size, “you can move now.” Your pussy clenched involuntarily around him and he hissed.
“Don’t do that, Y/N,” he groaned, “I won’t last.”
“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, and as if to get you back he snapped his hips, making you cry out.
“Fuck!” you screamed, and that definitely encouraged him, and he set a pace, fucking you into the mattress. You felt your toes curl, a familiar knot building in your stomach. Once again, you thought, you felt like you shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as you were, it was more important for him to come inside you. “Come on, baby, come for me,” you whispered in his ear, hoping the dirty talk would encourage him.
“Almost there,” he grunted, and as much as you tried not to enjoy it, the way he was drilling into you felt too good. You bit your lip and grasped at the sheets, trying to keep your orgasm down, but he took it as a sign that you were about to come. He reached between you and thumbed your clit, and at that moment your orgasm exploded out of you without warning. He groaned as you clenched around him, finally spilling his seed inside you. You were dizzy, mind hazy from your orgasm, but you were content at the feeling of his cum inside you. He started to pull out, then stopped.
“Oh,” he said, and you looked up at him to see why he was saying that.
“What is it?” you asked.
“It’s leaking out of you,” he pointed down between your legs. You panicked.
“Well you’re not supposed to pull out right away!” you wrung your hands frantically, “push it back in!”
He looked at you incredulously, before looking down at his already softening cock, realizing it was useless at that point. So he just used his fingers, gathering up the cum that had leaked down and pushing it back into your pussy. You bit your lip again, because the more he pushed in, the more aroused you became, surprised that you weren’t oversensitive at this point. He must’ve noticed your reaction because he didn’t stop, pushing in further and further, in and out, faster and faster, until you were coming again, pussy pulsing around his fingers.
You took a deep breath to regulate your breathing, while he pulled his fingers out of you and sat back.
“Are you okay?” he asked, when you still lay there, unmoving.
“Yes,” you responded, staring up at the ceiling.
“Well, I guess I’ll get going,” he said awkwardly, when you didn’t say anything else.
You nodded, still staring up at the ceiling. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here.” He dressed without saying anything more and left the room.
---
He came over again the next night, and you repeated the same awkward scene from the night before. This continued for a few cycles, with no success, and again you were losing hope.
“Maybe there’s something wrong with me,” you said dejectedly one day. Jaehyun looked over at you, concern etched on his face.
“The doctor said you were fine,” he replied, attempting to soothe you.
“Maybe there’s something wrong with you then,” you huffed, but Jaehyun just shook his head.
“Y/N, they put us through a bunch of tests and said we’re both fine,” he put a hand on your knee to reassure you.
“Then why isn’t it working?” you lamented, on the verge of tears.
“Do you want my opinion?” he asked hesitantly. You looked up at him in surprise.
“Yeah, of course,” you replied, curious as to what he had to say.
“Well, I’ve been reading those links the doctor sent, and it said stress is a big factor,” he stated carefully, “I think you just need to relax, and let it happen.”
You were floored. On the one hand you were touched that he had actually read the links the doctor had sent (you had been too impatient to bother), on the other hand, what exactly did he mean by ‘letting it happen’?
“Let’s do things differently next time, what do you think?” he had a twinkle in his eye that was starting to alarm you.
“What do you have in mind?” you asked suspiciously.
“You’ll see.” He smiled, much too widely for your liking.
---
The next time came around and you were more nervous than you were the first night, and if this was his idea of making it more relaxed he was already failing miserably. When he showed up at your door though, you almost didn’t recognize him.
Instead of a t-shirt and sweats, he was wearing a crisp white button-down and jeans that sat sexily on his hips. Instead of his hair flat and falling in his face he had it pulled back, with just a few strands falling over his forehead. He also smelled incredible, a musky scent that forever trapped you in his hold, and made you want him in every way he would let you.
He smiled at you, but not in the way a friend smiles at a friend, and when he leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek you almost passed out from the warmth of his lips and the intoxicating scent emanating from his skin. He walked past you to the bedroom, leaving you standing there with your mouth open and your underwear dampening.
When you finally collected yourself, you went upstairs to hear the bath running. You walked into the bathroom to see him drawing a bath, candles surrounding the tub, flower petals in the water, and the most luscious smelling bath bomb marinating in it.
“Jaehyun, what-”
“Shh,” he put a finger to your lips, and even that act was so sensual you had to squeeze your legs together, “let me take care of you.” He reached down and turned off the water. “Get undressed and get in the bath, and I’ll come back and help you get relaxed.” He left the room and you did what he said, calling him back in once you were in the bath and the cloudy bubbly water reached the tops of your breasts.
He had such a calm and serene look on his face that it almost threw you off, but then he was taking your puff and squeezing body wash on it.
“May I?” he asked, and when you nodded he gently took your arm and ran the puff along it. He did the same with the other arm, and that simple act, along with the warmth of the bath water, did wonders to soothe you. You felt like you were floating, with the calming scents of the bath bomb, and his gentle touch. He started to run the puff along your neck and you bent your head back and sighed. Soon enough he was dipping below the surface of the water, running the puff between your breasts, and you sighed even deeper as he got lower, past your stomach, and lower still. The puff was forgotten, and now it was just his hand, reaching down between your legs. It all felt so good, you spread your legs even wider, wanting more.
“How does it feel?” he whispered, so close to your ear you shuddered.
“So good,” you couldn’t help but moan, and then his hand was there, cupping your pussy.
“I want to make you feel good, Y/N,” he purred, his voice like honey, “will you let me make you feel good?”
“Yes,” the word came out on a long exhale, as he plunged a finger between your folds, and you couldn’t help but fall apart. He fingered you until you came, water splashing all around you as you writhed in pleasure. When you were done he picked you up out of the bath, not caring that his clothes were getting wet, and carried you to the bed. You couldn’t care that you were probably soaking the bed, because his lips were on your neck, hot and urgent, leaving marks that you’d have trouble concealing the next day.
You pulled at his shirt, wanting it off already, and he obliged, throwing the damp fabric to a corner of the room. You rubbed your hands all over his chest, feeling the firm muscle there, then down to his abs. He groaned against your neck when you undid his belt and slipped your hand over his hardened cock.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he hissed, when you wrapped your hand around it and pumped.
“Don’t come yet,” you whispered, taking your hand away, opting instead to pull the rest of his jeans and boxers off. You wrapped your legs around him, encouraging him to enter you, but he pulled back slightly.
“Slow down,” he breathed, and you could feel him smiling against your neck, “this isn’t a race, Y/N,” he continued kissing down the column of your neck, down to your chest, “relax, and let me make you feel good.”
You finally relented, relaxing as he’d ordered, letting yourself melt into the mattress as he sucked on your skin. Your body was on fire, both from the heat of the bath you just had as well as the way his lips were ruining you. When he got down to your lower stomach you realized where he was headed, and instead of fighting the pleasure you were feeling you simply gave in. As soon as his wet tongue collided with your wet folds you let go, moaning wantonly at the feeling. Every sound you made spurred him on, every jerk and jolt of your body gave him the impetus to push you to the height of pleasure, until you were yanking at his hair and convulsing around his tongue.
“That was fucking hot, Y/N,” he almost growled, wiping at his chin as he moved to hover above you, “I almost came.”
“Don’t,” you panted, trying to catch your breath, “you need to come inside me.”
“You want it? Want my cum inside you, fill you up,” his voice was deep, intense, a tone you’d never heard from him, and certainly words you’d never heard from him, but it certainly was doing the job and making you very aroused.
“Oh god,” you exclaimed, unaware that dirty talk was something you liked. Your previous boyfriends hadn’t been this filthy, but you found you loved it.
“I’m gonna fuck you hard, and you’re gonna take all of my cum,” he continued, voice raspy, breath hot in your ear, “I’m gonna knock you the fuck up, and watch your belly grow with my baby.”
“Jaehyun!” you cried out, losing yourself completely. You grabbed a hold of his neck and pulled him down, and for a split second you saw his eyes grow wide as you smashed your lips against his, your no-kissing rule forgotten. He kissed you with the same passion and intensity that he ate you out with, and you wondered why you had ever put that no-kissing rule into place if he could make you feel like that with his lips. You moaned when his tongue entered your mouth, just as he slid his cock inside you.
This time you didn’t hold back, allowing yourself to feel everything. The way his cock slid in and out of you, the way the tip kept hitting that spot so deep inside you. The way his tongue moved in your mouth, the way his hands rubbed up and down your body, sometimes squeezing your breasts and flicking your nipples. Your hands roamed over his back, feeling his muscles move, and when you felt your orgasm start to build you dragged your nails against his skin.
“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna come,” he broke from the kiss to drop his head down to your chest, his thrusts getting harder but more erratic.
“Oh god, do it,” you panted, your orgasm about to burst out of you, “fill me up, baby, I want your cum so bad.”
That was enough to send him over the edge, and he pulled you flush against him as he came inside you, the particularly forceful thrusts triggering your own orgasm and making you clench around him. He let out a loud groan as you milked him, fingernails digging into his back.
When you were both done you held him against you, not wanting to let him go. He obliged, just holding you, his face tucked against your neck. You could feel his hot breath against your skin and that, along with his arms around you and his weight on top of you was all oddly comforting.
“I’m gonna pull out,” he finally said, when he had gone soft inside you. You sighed but nodded, and once he had pulled out you clamped your legs together, trying to keep as much of his cum inside you as you could.
He dressed quietly and you watched him, heart stuttering in your chest, your mind reeling. You had promised him that the sex wouldn’t change anything in your relationship, but you couldn’t believe how wrong you were. You wanted to reach for him, wanted him to stay, but you held back.
“Thanks for that,” you said quietly, and he turned to you and smiled.
“You’re welcome,” he said sincerely, “I’ll do anything for you,” and he brought his hand up and cupped your cheek, his eyes soft as he looked at you, “you’re my best friend.”
You smiled at him, but inside your heart was breaking. How could you ever think you could do this and keep your friendship as it was?
---
A few weeks later you were late, and although you tried not to get your hopes up you couldn’t help but think this was it. You waited to take the pregnancy test, wanting Jaehyun to be there no matter the outcome.
“What is it? What’s wrong? You said it’s an emergency.” He looked so concerned when he came over, and you almost felt bad for not saying what it was about right away.
“I’m late, Jaehyun,” you announced nervously.
“Where do you have to be?”
“No, I mean my period! I haven’t gotten my period yet!”
He paused, the pieces finally falling into place, and his face suddenly lit up. “Oh shit!” He covered his mouth with his hand as he looked at you with wide eyes.
“Come with me, I’m gonna take a pregnancy test.” You led him upstairs where he waited outside the bathroom door while you took the test. You placed the stick on the counter and opened the door to let him in.
“Well? What does it say?” he asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
“It’s gonna take a few minutes,” you answered nervously, “I can’t look, tell me what it says.” You turned away, so anxious you thought you would pass out.
“One line, so far,” he stated, and you tried to stay calm but your heart was beating out of your chest.
“Hold my hand,” you reached behind you and he took your hand in his, squeezing to comfort you. He was silent for a while, and you couldn’t take it anymore. “Well? What does it say now?”
“I see…” he started to say, and you so desperately wanted to turn around but you were too scared.
“What?! Just say it!”
He pulled you to him, turning you around and lifting the stick up to your eye level. “Two lines.”
You blinked a few times, wanting to make sure you were seeing it right, but every time you opened your eyes there were two solid lines. You were pregnant.
“Oh my god,” you whispered, both of your hands going up to cover your mouth. Jaehyun whooped in celebration, jumping up and down with glee. You saw the genuine happiness in his face and so many emotions ran through you that the only thing you could do was burst into tears.
“Aw, Y/N, don’t cry!” he laughed, gathering you into his arms, thinking you were just crying from happiness. But it was so much more complicated than that. You were getting what you wanted, a baby, but you hadn’t prepared yourself for all the complications of having a baby with your best friend, who you may have developed feelings for.
---
The first trimester was hell. You were throwing up every morning, and feeling nausea for the rest of the day. You had an aversion to most food, even hating the smell of certain things, like meat. The only things you could keep down were bread and noodles, and you wondered how the baby could grow when that was all that you ate. But at every appointment the doctor reassured you that the baby was doing well and developing at a good rate. Jaehyun insisted on going with you to your first ultrasound and as much as you wanted him to, you also dreaded it.
When the fuzzy form of your baby showed up on the screen for the first time you felt a surge of happiness overcome you, tears springing to your eyes at the sight of the tiny figure on the screen. You heard Jaehyun inhale sharply and turned to look at him. The awe in his face was so endearing it made the tears run down your cheeks, and seeing your reaction he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a hug.
“That’s our baby,” he whispered, his voice almost breaking, and you cried harder.
“Congratulations!” the technician said, patting you both on the shoulder. You felt like you should correct her, tell her that although the baby was technically yours and Jaehyun’s, you weren’t together and wouldn’t be raising the baby as such. But how do you explain that to a complete stranger? You looked over at Jaehyun, who was smiling from ear to ear, shaking the technician’s hand and making no move to explain the situation.
Later, as you were getting ready to leave the clinic, you saw the technician hand over a copy of the ultrasound picture to Jaehyun. He took it happily in his hands, as if it were the most precious thing in the world. As he walked towards you he slipped it into the plastic window spot in his wallet, where your drivers’ license should be, but his now housed a blurry black and white photo of your baby.
“Hey, wanna get something to eat to celebrate?” he asked, slinging an arm around you as you both left the clinic.
You shook your head. As much as you wanted to spend time with him, you found it hurt more than it helped. Once the baby was born you’d have to deal with him being around more often, so it was better to save up your strength for that.
“I’m actually really tired, I just want to go home and rest,” you answered without looking up at him, “besides, I’m still off most foods.”
“Oh, okay, makes sense.” He said, removing his arm from around your shoulder and stuffing his hands in his pockets. He didn’t sound upset or offended, but when you looked at him out of the corner of your eye you saw a flash of emotion cross his face, almost like hurt or disappointment. You felt bad, knowing you had been avoiding him, even giving up your weekly brunches, but you felt it was better this way.
“Listen, I’ll let you know when the next ultrasound is, okay? You can come with me again.” You wanted just to wipe the look of disappointment off his face, and luckily it worked.
“Yeah, that would be great! Thanks so much, Y/N,” he leaned down and hugged you, and it was the closest he’d been to you since the last time you’d had sex to make the baby. You held him close, committing the feel of him and the scent of him to memory, before you pulled away and walked towards your car.
---
If the first trimester had been hell, the second trimester was heaven. Miraculously the nausea disappeared, and you found yourself actually craving food. You felt more energized and less tired, and slept so much better. Your belly was starting to grow, and you actually had to start shopping for maternity clothes. Your mood was so much better, but what really came back with a vengeance was your libido. During the first trimester you couldn’t even think about sex, but now, it was all you could think about.
Usually your vibrator would do the trick, but there were always moments where you’d think about Jaehyun, think about how good he could make you feel. Sometimes just thinking about him fucking you was enough to get you off, but when you really thought about him, about the feeling of his cock parting your folds, or the feeling of his strong hips pounding into you, his face sweaty and his scent overpowering the air between you, nothing was better than the real thing.
Which is how you found yourself one night, holding your phone and dialing his number without hesitation.
“Hey, what’s up,” he answered, his voice sounding distant. You realized you hadn’t spoken to or seen him in weeks, and instantly you felt terrible.
“Um, actually nothing. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t wake me,” you could hear him shuffling around, like he had been lying down and started to sit up, “is something wrong, Y/N?”
He always saw right through you, you could hear the concern is his voice, and there was no turning back now.
“Could you come over? I think I need some… company.” You didn’t know if you could just ask for sex over the phone, and was it really only sex that you wanted? Or did you just want him there, with you.
“Yeah, yeah, sure, I can come over,” you heard more shuffling, like he was getting dressed, “are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’ll be better when you’re here.” You answered truthfully.
When he showed up at your door you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling him towards you and hugging him tightly. He didn’t protest, just held you and rubbed your back gently.
“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked softly against your hair.
“I miss you,” you admitted, voice muffled against his chest because you were too ashamed to look at him.
“I’m around, you know,” he chuckled, “you’re the one who cancelled our brunches.”
You pulled back and forced yourself to make eye contact with him. “No, Jaehyun, I miss you.” You touched his chest when you said it, giving him a look laden with meaning. He understood right away, his eyebrows rising slightly. You took him by the hand and pulled him inside, leading him upstairs and to your bedroom. He let himself be led, but once you were behind closed doors he suddenly took you into his arms and kissed you. The kiss wasn’t subtle, or gentle, it was intense and forceful, his intent surely to rile you up. It definitely worked, because you could feel wetness pooling in your panties as he stuck his tongue down your throat.
“You want my cock again,” he growled, breaking from the kiss to suck a line down your throat. You gasped at his aggressiveness, but you had to admit it really turned you on.
“Yes,” you breathed out, as he stripped you of your clothes and pushed you towards the bed. You fumbled at his clothes, trying to get them off but you found your limbs were weak from the way he was handling you. He took over, stripping off the rest of his clothes, his cock springing forward when he pulled his boxers down. You admired it for only a second before he turned you around, pushing you onto your hands and knees on the bed.
“You like my cock, don’t you, you like me fucking into your little pussy,” he spoke so low, his chest flush against your back so you could feel the reverberation of his voice.
You didn’t have a chance to answer, because he rammed his cock into you, a scream tearing from your throat as he went as deep as he could.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he started to pound into you. You weren’t sure how pregnant sex would feel, since so many things were changing in your body, but you weren’t prepared for what you got. It felt like your entire body was on fire, pleasure coursing through every part of you. He hit places inside you that you’d never felt before, and all of it was like nothing you’d ever experienced.
“Jae,” you panted, “Jae, oh my god!” your orgasm was coming on, super fast and beyond your control.
“You’re gonna come already, baby? Alright, come on, come all over my cock,” he reached down, and although it was a little awkward because of your belly, he managed to get to your clit and rub it with the pad of his thumb.
Your vision went white when your orgasm hit, your fingers and toes going numb as your pussy clenched around his cock. You could barely hold yourself up, your upper body falling to the bed as you convulsed around him. He kept going, fucking you through it, and when you stilled he pulled out and lay you on your back. He gave you a moment to catch your breath, before he entered you again. You cried out at the oversensitivity, but he went slowly, and soon enough you started to feel pleasure again.
“I can keep going,” he said, as he fucked into you at a slow but deliberate pace, “you want more, don’t you?”
You nodded vigorously, already feeling another orgasm building. He propped himself up then, and pounded into you, the bed shaking from his harsh thrusts. You gripped and pulled at the sheets, unable to contain the needy whines and moans coming up out of your mouth. You forced your eyes open to see him hovering over you, a look of intense concentration on his face, his brow sweaty, hair falling into his eyes. When he saw you looking at him his concentration faltered, and he bent his head down for a kiss. You were expecting a kiss to match the intensity with which he was fucking you, but instead it was soft, gentle, lingering. You felt something in it, something above and beyond what he was doing to you, something that carried you where you most wanted to be but didn’t dare go. The orgasm you had then was different, not just purely physical, not just filled with lust, but something more elevated, more emotional.
He broke the kiss to grunt loudly as he came, spilling more of his seed inside you. When he was done he pulled out, and sat at the edge of the bed.
“Y/N,” he said, and you don’t know why he sounded so defeated. You sat up, preparing yourself for what he was going to say.
“Jaehyun,” you reached for him but thought better of it, your hand dropping into your lap.
“I can’t keep doing this with you,” he said, his voice quiet but determined, “it’s fucking me up and I don’t know what to do with myself.”
Your heart sank. He was pulling out of your life, and it was all your fault for doing this to him. “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun.”
He got dressed hurriedly, without looking back at you, and before he opened the door to leave he turned back.
“You need to decide for yourself what you want me to be,” he still didn’t look at you, opting to look at the floor instead, “I’ll always be here for you, but I need to know where I stand.”
The door closing behind him echoed in the room, the absence of him already settling into your heart.
---
You went through the rest of the second trimester on your own, too ashamed and heartbroken to see Jaehyun, and too confused to sort out your feelings. He’d text you once in a while to ask you how you were doing, how you were feeling, but there was no talk beyond the pregnancy. He didn’t come to any more of your doctor’s appointments, nor did you ever invite him to any more in the first place. The third trimester hit even worse than the first, your belly was now so big it was almost uncomfortable to do anything, you now had constant heartburn, and you were going to the bathroom every ten minutes because of the weight on your bladder.
About a month before your due date, you were making dinner in the kitchen when you felt an uncomfortable tightening in your abdomen. You clutched your stomach, gripping the counter in alarm and wondering what you should do. The feeling came and went, but returned after a few minutes. Concerned, you called your doctor, who advised you to come in to the hospital just to get checked out. As you were getting ready you got a text from Jaehyun, asking how you were doing.
Jaehyun: hey just doing my check-in
JH: how is it going today
Me: well it’s probably nothing but
Me: just going to the hospital to get checked out
JH: wait what
JH: let me take you
Me: i should be ok
JH: Y/N pls let me take you
Me: ok
JH: thank you i’ll be right there
You sighed, wishing you had never told him and made him worry. Luckily you didn’t have to wait long since he lived nearby, and soon enough he was pulling up to your house. You didn’t bother to wait for him to come to the door, coming out as soon as you saw his car. You were locking the front door when the uncomfortable feeling came back, making you double over, clutching your stomach.
“Y/N!” you heard Jaehyun yell behind you, and soon enough his arms were cradling you as you crouched over. “What happened? What’s going on?”
His voice sounded frantic, terrified, and when you looked up in his eyes he looked so scared that it made your chest ache.
You smiled weakly, trying to placate him, “Don’t worry, it’s probably just false labor,” you patted him on the arm and soon enough the feeling went away. “My doctor just wants me to come in and get checked out, just in case.”
He nodded, but didn’t look reassured at all, creases of worry still lining his face. He also didn’t let you go, holding onto your arm as you walked to the car. At the hospital he didn’t leave your side, until the doctor came to do your examination.
“I’ll wait outside,” he said hesitantly, but you could tell he didn’t want to leave at all, eyes looking longingly back at you as he left the room.
After the doctor examined you and reassured you that it really was just false labor, you were cleared to leave and found Jaehyun in the hall, pacing. Once he saw you he ran up to you, searching your face with frantic eyes.
“Well? What happened?” he’d taken your hands in his, and his palms felt cold and clammy.
“It was nothing, just false labor, the doctor told me to go home and rest.” You reassured him, squeezing his hands and smiling softly at him. He let out a long breath, collapsing into a nearby chair.
“Oh my god, Y/N, I almost died!” he passed the back of his hand over his eyes dramatically, and you suppressed a giggle at his overdramatic show.
“Don’t laugh!” he sat up and looked at you incredulously, “I lost ten years of my life just now!”
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” you pressed your lips together trying not to smile. He broke into a wide grin then, pleased with himself that he had managed to lighten your mood with his sense of humor.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”
---
The drive from the hospital had been quiet, both of you realizing that there was still this huge wall between you, and neither of you were brave enough to breach it. He walked you to your door in continued silence, and once you reached your doorstep he turned around to walk back to his car.
“Jaehyun,” you called, unable to stand it anymore, “do you wanna come in and talk?”
He turned around, a mixture of hope, fear, and resignation on his face, and nodded.
The time apart had made you realize how much you missed him, and seeing him again had made you realize how much you still wanted him to be a part of your life. You were hoping to salvage something of your relationship, but you were fully aware that you could never go back to what it had been.
You sat him down on the sofa and took a deep breath.
“Jaehyun,” you began, getting more and more nervous as you went on, “I know I made things weird, even though I promised I wouldn’t,” he opened his mouth to say something but you stopped him, determined to get out what you wanted to say. “I was so focused on having a baby that I didn’t think about what involving you would mean, and what it would do to our friendship. I think I was just naive, I didn’t think anything would change, and I was so wrong.”
He sat across from you, and even though he was just inches away it felt like he was miles away, like an unfathomable chasm had opened up between you. Then he looked up at you, hesitant, but determined.
“Y/N, we can’t go back and change things anymore. What’s happened has happened.” He tilted his head to regard you, taking a deep breath before moving on, “so I just need to know one thing.”
“What is it?”
“Do you want me to be a part of your life?”
“Yes. Always.” You answered truthfully, without a doubt in your mind. He smiled, but there was still something behind his eyes.
“Hey, do you remember that pact we made in eighth grade?” He suddenly asked, his eyes twinkling.
“The marriage one?” you scanned your eighth grade memories and that was the only pact you could think of.
“Yeah, the one where we said if neither of us are married by the time we’re thirty, we’ll marry each other?”
“Yes, I remember.” It was during PE class, when you and Jaehyun were sitting in the field while everyone else was running around chasing soccer balls. You don’t remember how the subject came up, but soon enough you were doing pinky swears and Jaehyun was fashioning rings out of blades of grass for you and him to wear. You both had a good laugh over it, and never thought about it again until this moment.
“So what if we didn’t wait?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if we didn’t wait until we’re thirty, what if we just did it now? I mean, we’re having a baby together already.”
“Jaehyun, are you proposing right now?” you said it as a joke, even chuckling to yourself, you weren’t taking the whole thing seriously at all, except Jaehyun wasn’t laughing.
“I mean, I don’t have a ring, but…” he looked around the room, and seeing your spider plant on a nearby table he picked a leaf off and rolled it around itself, making a ring out of it, and slipped it on your finger. You were speechless.
“Jaehyun, you’re serious.” You managed to say after the thoughts stopped running through your brain. You hadn’t really thought about marriage, none of the guys you’d dated had ever made you think about it. You knew you wanted kids, but marriage was something you figured you couldn’t achieve, never having found the right guy. Yet here he was all along, Jeong Jaehyun, your best friend, someone who knew you inside and out. A dawning realization hit you then, that maybe none of your relationships ever worked out because you kept comparing them to Jaehyun, and no one ever held up. You were in love with your best friend, and you didn’t even know it.
“Well?” he asked, with raised eyebrows and hopeful eyes. You stared at the leaf ring on your finger, turning it around and around, your heart and mind finally finding peace in your realization. You looked up at him, cupping his face, and he looked like he was bracing himself for a possibly negative response.
“Yes.” You answered, smiling brightly at him, and it took him a moment to realize you weren’t turning him down. His face broke out into a wide grin, his dimples as deep as ever, his eyes shiny. He pulled you in for a hug, but your belly made it somewhat awkward.
“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re huge!” he looked down at your belly in awe.
“Jaehyun what the fuck!” you smacked him on the arm, slightly offended.
“No, I meant I was too busy being worried about you that I never noticed how big your belly had gotten.” He reached out his hand tentatively. “Can I touch?”
“Of course,” you said, happy that you could share this with him. You took his hand and placed it on your belly.
“Can you feel the baby move?” He asked, eyes growing wide when his hand landed on your stomach.
“Sometimes, mostly when I’m lying still though.” You let him rub his hand over your stomach, endeared at how awestruck he was, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ as he moved his hand around. He suddenly leaned forward, his face getting very close to your belly.
“Hey little one,” he called softly, and your heart clenched at the sight of him talking to the baby in your belly, “I’m your dad.”
Suddenly you felt a jolt in your ribs, as the baby stretched and kicked inside you.
“Oh my god, Y/N! Did you feel that?” Jaehyun clapped excitedly.
“Damn right I felt it,” you groaned, patting your stomach, “keep it down in there, kicking mama in the ribs really hurts!”
Jaehyun burst out laughing, gathering you in his arms and hugging you tightly. “That was adorable!” he exclaimed, and your heart felt warm as you wrapped your arms around him.
---
You decided to just do a small backyard ceremony for your wedding, neither of you fond of big parties that meant even bigger expenses. Jaehyun moved into your house since he had been rooming with a friend, and once all of his things had been moved in and installed, you were left alone with each other once again.
You don’t know why, but your first night as a married couple felt like the first night you’d had sex, awkward as hell. Once again you stood on either side of the bed, unsure as to what to do.
“Bed?” he finally asked after you’d both stood there for too long.
“Bed,” you answered, and you both got in at the same time. You couldn’t help but laugh at your awkwardness, and that certainly broke the tension. You turned to your side, the only way you could get comfortable with how big your belly was, and he slotted his body behind you, wrapping an arm around you and resting his hand on your belly. You sighed contentedly, loving the feeling of being in his arms.
“This is nice,” he whispered, but his breath against your ear made you shiver, and suddenly contentment wasn’t the only thing you were feeling. Not to mention his hand that was on your belly had moved to your hip, fingers tracing wide circles over the fabric of your sleep shorts.
“Jaehyun,” you didn’t mean to, but his name came out in a moan, and his hand stopped its circuit, the faintest bit of pressure being applied to your hip.
“Y/N?” he questioned, but you were taking his hand and moving it up to your breasts. Once he cupped them you moaned again. “Holy shit, Y/N, your boobs are huge!”
“Jaehyun!” you reprimanded him, but he apologized quickly.
“Sorry, sorry, I just-” he cupped and squeezed, feeling the weight of them, “wow,” was all he could say.
“Well they won’t be this big for too long, so you better take advantage of them now,” you encouraged, and he did, tweaking your nipples until you were moaning into your pillow.
“Tell me if I do anything that hurts, or makes you feel uncomfortable, okay?” he whispered into your ear, before he started to plant wet kisses along your neck and shoulder. Your mind went hazy at the feeling of his lips on your skin, and soon he slipped a hand down, past the waistband of your shorts.
You inhaled sharply when his fingers found you wet, when he gathered some of your arousal to rub it around your clit. You moaned loudly when he made circles around your bud, pressing your face further into your pillow.
“Don’t do that, baby, I wanna hear you,” he pulled the covers off and pushed your pillow away, helping you take off your shirt and the rest of your clothes so you were fully exposed to him. He looked at you, lust and hunger clouding his eyes. “Fuck, you look so gorgeous knocked up with my baby.”
Your pussy clenched at his words and you pulled at his own clothes to get him to take them off. “Come here and fuck me, husband.”
Your words ignited something in him, and he bent down, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and pushing into you. You cried out, not caring anymore how loud you were being, the feeling of his cock inside you throwing you into the heights of pleasure. Once you started though, you couldn’t stop, moans and whimpers and whines tumbling out of your lips as he pumped his cock inside you.
“You like it, don’t you?” he growled, “you like my cock so much you let me knock you up.”
You moaned even louder at his words, your orgasm starting to build in the pit of your stomach. “Yes, god, yes!”
“You want my cum, baby? Look at where it got you, huh? You let me come inside you and now you’re knocked up.” His voice was raspy, deep, and it cut right to your core.
“Fuck, Jaehyun! I’m gonna come!” you warned him, grasping at the sheets as your orgasm hit you, your pussy pulsing around his cock. It didn’t take much longer for him to come, one last thrust that took your breath away, and he spilled his seed into you.
“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing aside a strand of hair that had fallen into your face, “did it hurt at all?”
“No, not at all, it felt good,” you smiled at him, wanting to alleviate his concern. He looked relieved, before he bent down and kissed the swell of your stomach.
“Sorry, baby,” he said sheepishly, addressing the baby, and you could only laugh, rubbing a hand through his hair as he smiled up at you.
---
The next day Jaehyun had left for work, and you were almost out the door yourself when you felt something gush between your legs. You figured you knew what it was and, resolved to stay calm, you quickly called Jaehyun.
“Babe, what is it?” he answered on the first ring.
“I think my water broke.”
“Okay, stay calm, I’m on my way back.”
It didn’t take long for him to come back since he’d just left, and you drove to the hospital all the while holding tightly to his hand. The contractions started then, not too bad at first but as time went on the pain was hard to bear. By the time you reached the hospital you were grimacing in pain and Jaehyun was yelling for someone to come and help you.
You labored for hours, Jaehyun never leaving your side, giving you strength even when you felt like you had no more to give. You wondered how you could have ever done this without him, without his unwavering support, his cheerful but calm demeanor raising you up when you felt like giving in. Soon enough you had a healthy baby in your hands, a boy that an ecstatic Jaehyun had already dubbed his ‘mini me’.
---
If you had known what the first few weeks with a newborn would have been like you would have seriously rethought having a baby in the first place. You were exhausted more than you had ever been in your life, catching sleep for only those precious moments when the baby would sleep. Your breasts were sore from breastfeeding, and if you never saw another poopy diaper in your life it would be too soon. What made it all worth it, was the look of pure innocence in your baby’s eyes, and the way your husband would stare at him like he was the most precious person in the world.
One night you were woken again by the baby’s cries, and trudging to his room you were surprised to see Jaehyun already there.
“Sorry to wake you,” he whispered, “I was changing him and he lost his binky.” You stood in the doorway and watched as your husband expertly handled your son, swaddling him in his blankets and making sure the pacifier was situated in his mouth. “Go back to bed, I got this.”
Jaehyun had done many things during your time together that you considered sexy, but this was probably the sexiest thing he had ever done. You walked back to your bedroom, mentally reminding yourself to reward him when you were more awake.
You lay in bed though, unable to fall back asleep. Your mind was racing, anxieties resurfacing at that dark and quiet time of night. Jaehyun eventually came back, sliding into the bed and spooning you, his arm coming to wrap around your waist.
“Jae?” you whispered, hoping he hadn’t fallen back asleep right away.
“Hm? I thought you were asleep.” He sounded tired, tightening his arm around you.
“Is this the life you wanted?” you asked him, rubbing his arm that was wrapped around you.
“Absolutely.” He answered, without hesitation.
“No, I’m serious.”
“So am I. Why wouldn’t you think I was being serious?” he suddenly propped himself up on his elbow so he could see your face.
“Because you had a life before this, and now it’s just-” you waved your hand in the air, “me and the baby.”
“Just you and the baby? Y/N, you and Yuno are the most important things in my life right now.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Yeah I had Friday night drinks and Sunday basketball games, and that was fun and all, but you two are my family now.”
“Don’t you miss it?”
“If I did I’d just go and do it? So no, I don’t miss it right now. Maybe eventually? But that doesn’t mean I’d love you and Yuno less.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d told you he loved you, but you knew you’d never get tired of hearing it. You’d been surprised when he’d told you he’d been in love with you for a while, not daring to say anything about it for fear of ruining your friendship. When you’d told him that you wanted to have a baby he knew that there was no one else in the world that he wanted to bear his children except you, and he was relieved when you accepted his offer of being a sperm donor. He had been prepared to be just that, but the sex threw everything into chaos, including his feelings for you and his resolve to keep your relationship as just friends. He felt himself falling even deeper for you, but his heart couldn’t handle the push and pull he was feeling from you. He never wanted to pull out of your life, and he spent more time staring at his phone waiting for you to call or text than he dared to admit. Bringing up the marriage pact had been a gamble, and he was terrified that you’d say no, but when you said yes, he could barely contain his happiness.
“Listen,” he said, taking your hand in his, “this life is more than I could have ever asked for.”
“Really?” you asked, turning to look at him, “With me?”
“Baby, it’s always been you.”
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I think it's been more than two months since I pushed my "Wilbur is remembered far more competent than he is" agenda in your asks.
So let's rectify that, shall we?
Wilbur is pretty fucking incompetent. He's never been that amazing charismatic smooth talker we characterize him as (not that I'm not absolutely behind that too)
Like. Who did he ever successfully smoothtalk? The Lmanbergians? None of them were ever hesitant to join from the very beginning and Eret betrayed them pretty easily when Dream manipulated them.
Techno? Techno wanted to join them, he was the one who reached out to them. There was no convincing needed and Wilbur never convinces Techno of anything Techno wasn't already willing to do by himself.
Dream? Definitely not during the revolution and Dream's support during Pogtopia was Dream following his own agenda, not being influenced by Wilbur in any way.
He couldn't even get Quackity to let him into Las Nevadas.
Nah, the only person Wilbur ever smooth talked is TommyInnit. The fucking powerhouse of this cell. And even that's not completely true. Tommy hasn't been convinced by Wilbur of anything since the very beginning of the Lmanberg revolution. Not during Pogtopia. And not even now (it's not smooth talking if it's just exploiting mental exhaustion and trauma and all that. Tommy isn't convinced of what they're doing.)
Really. Not even Tommy, per se.
He just got Tommy extremely loyal and attached to him.
And honestly, that's all he needs.
You don't need to have influence over everyone, you just need to have strong influence over the right person.
And that's what Wilbur had and has.
Wilbur's accomplishments are just pretty much him having a vision and Tommy throwing himself at it to make it come true.
Wilbur had the idea for L'manberg but Tommy was the one leading the troops. Tommy was the one who negotiated for their independence and got it when Wilbur was negotiating their surrender. Tommy was the one who FOR NO REASON built the escape tunnel they escaped through when Dream blew up L'manberg and he was the one who built the lil panic room at the end. Tommy was the one who's home became the embassy to L'manberg (something Wilbur very much pressured and kinda manipulated him into btw. I'm never not gonna mention that lil detail when the embassy comes up)
Wilbur had the idea and stood around looking pretty. My guy literally stood around looking pretty, without armor, during battles. Just. I love him.
And let's not forget that Tommy was fckin great at being the general. The SMP was so much better equipped and still, L'manberg was kinda winning. To the extend that Dream saw the need for TnT (which was hidden) and the betrayal through Eret (which was hidden)
Dream felt the need to pull two deceitful moves to keep if not even gain the upper hand.
If I'm not mixing stuff up here, correct me if I'm wrong.
And stuff like the tunnel weren't even expected of Tommy. My boy just thought of that on his own and did it on his own. Noone knew it existed. Noone expected it to exist.
After independence Wilbur is implied to have been leading but he generally wasn't around too much. Tommy was keeping order in the more face to face kinda way. He tried to navigate people's personal conflicts and make sure things didn't escalate and just. He did so well.
And Pogtopia? Oh, Pogtopia.
It's a bit more difficult here, since they were no longer on exactly the same side and goals are more muddled but still.
(and I want to make it clear that I'm in no way trying to shame Wilbur for mental health issues or anything. This isn't about that. I'd never fucking even imply that)
Tommy kept morale high. He made sure that other people were fine, when there was a chance. He tried to reassure Wilbur when Wilbur was spiraling, he asked Tubbo if he was happier, he told Tubbo to be safe, he recruited Quackity when he saw the chance while making sure that Quackity's intentions were sincere enough (he didn't just naively offer Quackity a place in Pogtopia and risk it being a trap).
He avoided any kind of destruction to L'manberg as much as possible.
He rallied people.
Really, his one actual flaw was not "turning" on Wilbur. His unwillingness to give up on him or even just incapacitate him or limiting his ability to act as he wanted was what ended up costing him everything. His unwillingness to interfere with Wilburs plans beyond talking to him and threatening him with a crossbow that one time ended up making the 16th possible. And he can hardly be blamed for that.
And Wilbur, during Pogtopia... Well... Nobody liked him, he made everyone uncomfortable and most people just kinda tolerated him because... Yeah...
Without Tommy troop morale would have been abysmal thanks to Wilbur. He constantly put himself and his side down, labeling them as villains and thus morally inferior. He pitted his own people against each other, spread paranoia between his people. No communication or actually planning involving other people. Still refused to wear armor.
And don't get me wrong, that's the point. He wasn't on their side. Obviously Tommy added more to their victory, Wilbur didn't want their victory. But still I just wanna praise my boy Tommy, he was. So amazing. Boy fucking peaked.
He's so good in tactical warfare or whatever you call it.
And I wanna just make it clear that this isn't criticism of Wilbur. Not at all. This isn't criticism at all. This is just about the big fanon perception of Wilbur as this great and mature leader.
Tbh this is actually more about showing people how amazing Tommy was and PLEASE I WANT FICS TO HAVE TOMMY BE MORE OF AN EFFECTIVE POWERHOUSE
Regarding my former ask I just wanted to clarify again that I'm not trying to critique Wilbur or anything.
It's really just that I think it's hilarious how people remember him as way more put together and competent than he really was.
-
Yeah, honestly one of the biggest disservice people have done to c!Tommy in this fandom is fail to portray him as the badass general that he actually was. Like, sure, Wilbur's title was as "general", but he never did anything for it. He gave a few speeches, but then the work was left up to Tommy. Like, genuinely, rewatch the Eret betrayal vod, Wilbur says it openly that he's leaving it in Tommy's hands. And Tommy does manage to lead his troops into an advantageous position! They get their enemies to retire at one point during the very first battle!
Then, of course, there is the betrayal, but, once again, Tommy didn't give up. He built the tunnel for their scuffed escape beforehand and, when everyone was just about ready to give up, he went against Dream in a duel and then traded the discs for their independence without loosing a beat.
Tommy was a BIG asset during that war!
Wilbur mostly was and still is kind of a wreak. And it's not his fault, 'cause mental health is an absolute bitch and he wasn't doing too hot after the war, then it got worse with Pogtopia and even worse during the 13 years in Limbo. And now we are where we are now with Wilbur being... not a great individual.
But still! In Pogtopia Tommy was the de-facto leader. And yeah, that was because Wilbur wasn't on their side anymore, but they didn't entirely know that. Or didn't wanna see that.
Tommy himself was hoping that Wilbur would "come back around" if he managed to get back their country. That was a big motivator for him. And he did everything that was in his power to do to not lose either Wilbur or L'Manburg. He tried talking to Wilbur multiple times, tried persuading him that there was another way, he never bought into Wilbur's ideals, he recruited people and he lead the troops once again. It wasn't Techno that lead the troops (despite him being a much better fighter) it was Tommy. And once everything was exploded and Techno and Wilbur betrayed them? Well he kept encouraging people. Literally I'm begging everyone to watch that vod! Tommy was there at every step of the way, telling Niki that it wasn't over, telling Quackity to keep fighting and, after that, you know who was there to validate Tubbo's presidency? To rally people behind him? It wasn't Tubbo. Tommy gathered everyone by the L'Mantree and got their spirits high once again.
He is just genuinely amazing.
And, like, yeah now Wilbur managed to manipulate Tommy to an extent to be by his side. But that's not that much of an accomplishment anymore because Tommy has just been through so much that he's exhausted now, as you said. Like, remember when Tommy said he wanted to be on Wilbur's side because "he gets things done"? Well, I'm still waiting to see that one honestly...
#ladycatland ask#dream smp#tommyinnit#c!tommy#c!wilbur critical#<< just in case#long post#character analysis#tl:dr#the fanon interpretations for tommy and wilbur are often a reverse of canon#tommy is made to be a lot more incompetent and in need of help while wilbur is made a lot more competent and in control#I wonder why that became the case?
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Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?
askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like
(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)
i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads
which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter
it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272
it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all
and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to
i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet
rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare
(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)
(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)
probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them
like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy
(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)
(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)
even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to
i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident
and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection
‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!
another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing
other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could
this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor
something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins
and...
first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more
(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)
more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left
(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)
(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)
which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them
there’s just so little of him left but the weapon
he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins
not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once
and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps
... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here
just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either
no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?
the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -
it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat
they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope
but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one
yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction
the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...
that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice
like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds
... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger
what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?
don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear
some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all
and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain
(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)
(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)
i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond
he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him
but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’
(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)
(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)
more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror
in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them
that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands
as for maglor...
i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad
but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge
it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons
horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!
it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve
and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me
so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them
an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects
maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin
seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me
the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them
there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay
they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain
he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can
(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)
(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)
however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this
but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created
and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable
look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat
but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?
that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian
we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence
(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)
like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them
(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)
elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home
... right?
it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice
then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them
the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him
instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through
... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most
i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives
they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t
speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations
because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke
that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain
(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)
(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)
(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)
(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)
not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past
i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy
no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer
compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea
and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic
honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way
but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me
which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage
it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently
i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist
in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing
they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification
they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world
and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood
nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams
there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer
as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor
(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)
but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves
they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage
he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less
and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be
... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out
the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of
and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -
i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can
they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light
and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality
it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved
even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor
not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands
it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one
that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other
and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness
but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out
well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell
it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial
still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away
#ask#my terrible headcanons#elros#elrond#maglor#elwing#earendil#feanorians#niphredilien#yellow feathered faerie#putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes#post nyanyannya askbox clearout#ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place#and it is DONE#fuck this took forever to write#stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more#this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry#i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation#but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades#the silm's cruel enough we don't need that#narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans#but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for#bleck#let's see how many followers i lose for this
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Do You Get My Letters
✥ Pairing: Levi x fem!Reader, somewhat Reiner x fem!Reader
✥ Themes: Fluff, angst, sadness, big ass plot twist
✥ Warnings: Female bodied reader (she/her pronouns,) Pregnancy and birth (nothing gory.) Mentions of death, violence, and threats. Manipulation.
✥ Synopsis: You are carrying Reiner's baby when he betrays Paradis. Levi decides to step in.
✥ Word Count: 2.2k
(there is a part two up to this fic, but i've decided i'm going to rewrite the ending at some point.)
Anon's Request: Hi! I saw your requests are open so here I want to give my little scenario a try! 🕳🤸🏽♀️ I thought abt this last night, I’m currently rewatching AOT after 6 yrs and yet to finish season 4, so sorry if I’m wrong abt timelines/the plot? My request is the reader was with child with Reiner, but b4 reader told him, he betrayed and exposed his mission. Levi stepped in to help reader. And btw, I just finished watching ep 3 of season 4, so maybe Eren telling reiner abt his child and he regrets leaving the reader? And reiner jealous at the fact Levi is most likely considered his child’s father at that point. I can’t come up with an ending, so I’ll leave it up to you if you do take in my request. If this isn’t your type of writing I totally understand!
Note: This story is canon divergent. It is set in season 4, but in a universe where Reiner is not revealed as a traitor/the armored titan until a few months before season 4 takes place, as the reader was having relations with him until then and did not know his secret. I’m sorry if that change bothers you, I just wanted to write this as sort of its own story. This story contains season 4 spoilers! It also has nothing to do with the canon ending of AOT.
---
Dear Reiner,
I hope this letter somehow gets to you, I don’t quite know where to start.
In a perfect world, I would be so happy to tell you this. You’d be ecstatic too, I think. And before you try to second guess me: I’m sure by now, don’t worry.
I’m pregnant.
I guess we weren’t careful enough before you left. I feel like an idiot. And lost. But I’m not hopeless. I know myself, I can make it work somehow. With or without you.
I’m still in shock about you. How could someone so close hide so much? You’re a talented spy I suppose, a great asset to Marley. You made me trust you with my entire life. You made me love every false thing about you. And this is the rude awakening I get in return.
I’ll raise our child to value honesty and kindness, all in spite of you.
Sincerely,
Reader
---
The paper was damp with tears after you lifted your pen for a final time. You wished you could just keep the whole thing a secret: go make a quiet life for yourself somewhere else. It wouldn’t be right. Not after all of the dishonesty that man had spewed to you over the past few years. You had to tell him.
The door to the office room you’d settled in to write the letter creaks open. It’s Levi. He looks at your puffy eyes somberly, sympathetic. He was the first person you had told about the entire situation. Not because you were close, just because you needed help.
You fold your letter and stick it into a sturdy envelope. Levi takes it in his hand.
“That piece of shit doesn’t deserve a thing from you. Not a letter. Certainly not tears,” Levi says, using a clean handkerchief to wipe a stray drop from your cheek, “but I am proud of you.”
You take the handkerchief from him, feeling more tears stream down your face.
“Proud? I’m a fucking idiot,” you say through your sobs.
“Don’t even try to pull that self pity shit with me. Things happen sometimes. And you’re strong enough to commit to getting through it,” he responds.
You stand up, pushing your chair out. You look at him as you dry your face off again.
“I’m alone. How the hell am I supposed to do this shit alone?”
“You are not alone,” Levi replies. You’re shocked when he pulls you into a hug. “I’m going to help.”
You had never seen this side of him before. You look at him as you pull away slowly, tears still welled in your eyes.
“Are you sure? That's a big burden, Levi. None of this has to involve you.”
“Not the biggest burden I’ve ever taken on,” he shrugs. “There’s a lot of death around here, Y/N. Everyone is going to be happy about the little bit of life you’re giving us.”
You chuckle. He’s cynical, but he’s right.
He licks the envelope as he walks toward the door.
“Want me to run you a hot bath or something? Is that the type of shit pregnant people need?” he asks.
You laugh, a little harder than normal. It felt so relieving to laugh.
“Sure, Captain,” you respond softly.
---
Dear Reader,
I received your letter before the battle in Marley. I actually got to hand it to Reiner myself. He knows everything now. He broke down in front of me after reading it, going on about how much he regrets everything. How he wishes he could change things and be there for you. He begged me to kill him right there.
The world will eventually not have suffering like what you are going through now.
Eren Jaeger
---
Your jaw had dropped reading it. He begged me to kill him.
You hand the letter Levi had just delivered back to him. He reads it with a furrowed brow.
“Do you think…” you begin, your voice shaky, “do you think I could send another letter?”
Levi purses his lips, “Possibly. I can ask Jaeger. But right now, you need to bring your blood pressure back down.”
You were over seven months along now. You had found out about your pregnancy late, after being in denial for four whole months. Hange insisted on checking you out after you’d thrown up every morning for a week.
Levi had since gone on a parenting book reading spree; he made you read several of them too. He knew just about everything you needed to do to make a healthy baby: what to eat, what not to eat, how to exercise, when to go to the doctor, etc. It was really sweet how much he cared. You knew it gave him hope, something to fight for, something to come home to.
You were terrified when he left for Marley. You kissed him for the first time when he returned. Just about everyone you knew had to fight. You wished you could be out there fighting with them like you were supposed to. Maybe you could have made a difference.
Levi takes your hand, squeezing it to bring you out of your thoughts.
“What can I do?” he asks.
“Get me a glass of wine,” you grumble.
“Absolutely not.”
---
Dear Reiner,
Reader does not know I’m sending this. So keep it that way, or I’ll kill your sorry ass. Or maybe not, you’d probably enjoy that. In that case I’ll get creative.
How does it feel? Being a fucking deadbeat? Is it everything you’d thought it’d be and more? Fucking her and leaving her with nothing, like she belongs in a whorehouse. Reminds me of what happened to my mother. Pieces of shit like you came in and sent her to her death, leaving her kid behind to starve.
I wasn’t about to let her suffer like my mother did. But you were. I’m glad your choices haunt you, Reiner. You fucking deserve it.
I’ll be there for the both of them from now on, doing everything you were never capable of. She’s due any day now, I’m sure she’ll try to write to you.
Levi
---
You feel your first contraction while napping on the couch with Levi. You were settled in between his legs, your back leaning up against his chest. He had his hands on your stomach; he loved to feel the baby kick and tell them some of the happier stories in his memories.
The two of you had grown so close over the past few months. You slept together every night now. You didn’t want to leave each other’s sides if you didn’t have to. Levi would cuddle and massage you any time your pregnant body was ailing you.
You had fantasized with him about life after the war. He wanted to be a husband, a father, to live peacefully in the countryside. And he wanted more than anything for you to join him.
The first contraction wasn’t painful enough for you to make much more than a grunting noise, but Levi woke up the second he felt your stomach contort a bit. He was on very high alert these days.
“Holy… shit…is that what I think it is?” Levi whispers, “Don’t answer. I’m getting Hange.”
He crawls out from behind you and sprints out of the room.
The pain worsens and becomes much more frequent while he’s out looking for Hange. You stand up eventually after getting the urge to walk around - and your water breaks. You start panicking, unsure of how dilated you were and how much time you had left before pushing. You really wished you’d done more than just skimmed through those birthing books right about now.
Levi and Hange eventually come sprinting back into the room with a wheelchair and cold rags to find you whimpering in pain on the couch, trying your best to control your breathing.
You’re rushed down the halls to the Scout’s infirmary, where Levi had made sure the perfect room was set up for you - and it had been that way for two months.
The next hour goes by in a blur. Hange knew the biology of how to deliver the baby, and Levi knew how to coach you. He helped you hold your legs back when you pushed, and helped you count out your breathing. Hange attended to everything that might have made Levi faint, like checking your dilation and making sure the baby was coming out at the right angle. You got lucky having these two by your side.
Through all of your efforts, you finally hear a cry. You look up to see Levi holding your tiny new baby as Hange wiped them clean. He was smiling, way bigger than you’d ever seen him smile before, with tears in his eyes.
“Here,” he says softly, handing her to you.
You cradle her on your bare skin. “She’s so perfect, Levi! Look how sweet she is!” you coo.
“What are you going to call her?” he asks, stroking your hair as you gleam down at your baby.
“I was thinking,” you smile, “Kuchel.”
Levi lets out small gasp. Tears start streaming down his face, his efforts to stifle them failing.
“Really? I think that’s,” he wipes his eyes, “a wonderful name.”
—-
Dear Reiner,
She’s finally here! Oh my god, she’s precious. Levi and Hange helped to deliver her. Labor went smoothly. Levi started to cry when he saw her for the first time. She really is just that perfect. We are calling her Kuchel, after Levi’s mother. He cried when I told him that, too (don’t tell him I’m sharing those crying details.) I've decided to give her Levi’s last name as well.
Levi set up the perfect nursery for us.
If you really did feel guilty for leaving - don’t be. I’m happy.
She has your eyes.
Sincerely,
Reader
—-
Dear Reiner,
Kuchel said her first word today. Of course it wasn’t mama, she’s such a daddy’s girl. She started crawling awhile ago, we are now working on standing up on our own. She has all of this blonde curly hair, too. She’s growing up so fast.
Reader
—-
Dear Reiner,
Levi proposed a few days ago. It was so perfect. We found a nice house with room for a farm that will be perfect for a family.
I can only wonder how you’re doing, now that the war is over.
Are you even alive?
Reader
—-
Dear Reiner,
I’m expecting again. Levi is beyond excited. I am too, of course. Kuchel started school this year. She is such a smart kid.
I still wonder about you. After all these years.
Reader
—-
Message after message, word after word. No response. You had decided he must be dead. The devastation after the war would argue that he was.
That is, until you found yourself rummaging through one of Levi’s desk drawers, looking for baby Isabel’s lost pacifier.
You felt the bottom of the drawer shift. A false bottom?
You pry at it until it comes open.
Letters.
Dozens of opened letters. With Marleyan postage stamps.
You pull out the first bundle you see. They’re all from you. Unopened. Unsent. You set them aside, your jaw quivering.
You pull out the second bundle and gasp.
—-
Dear Reader,
Eren showed me your letter. I am terribly sorry. Let me fix this, somehow. You can come to live with me in Marley. I will take care of you. Please.
I’m not just a traitor, a liar, a farce. Everything between us was real. I can explain everything. Just trust me.
Love,
Reiner
—
Dear Reader,
Do you get my letters?
I’ve only heard rumors about our new baby girl. I wish I could see her. Just once. For a second. Do you have a camera? I know they’re hard to come by in Paradis. I can send one.
I’d do anything to change this. You know I would.
Love,
Reiner
—-
To Levi,
You son of a bitch. I know exactly what you’re doing. You think this is protecting her, but it’s not. Just let her talk to me. She would listen, she would understand. You said yourself that she writes. You manipulative, sick bastard. That is MY child. She will never be yours. No matter what you brainwash her to believe, your dirty Ackerman blood does not run through her veins. She deserves to know. You are the farce, Levi.
Reiner
—-
There were dozens more. All opened. All from Reiner.
You sink down to the floor, tears spilling from your eyes.
You are the farce, Levi.
But, why? He was just protecting you, right?
The office door opens. You jump, shoving the letters back into the drawer.
“Mommy, why are you crying?” Kuchel asks.
You take a deep breath, staring down at the letters, thinking about everything that could have been.
“Are you happy here, Kuchel?”
“Yes!” she chirps, “Every day!”
“Then it’s nothing, baby. Mommy just got hurt. She’s better now.”
Your daughter giggles and skips out of the room, leaving you to hide away the rest of the letters.
༺♥༻
I REALLY HOPE I understood your request, Anon! I actually had a lot of fun writing this. It isn't something I would normally think to write, but I'm so glad you shared this idea! Sorry for the sad ending, I love playing w people's emotions ;)
༺♥༻
#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman#levi aot#reiner x reader#reiner braun#reiner x you#levi x you#attack on titan#aot x reader#aot imagines#levi imagine#reiner imagine#snk reiner#snk levi#tw: pregnancy#tw: threats#tw: manipulation#tw: mentions of death
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Of Kings and Beasts - Ten
Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve
Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.
Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Fluff, Language, Violence,
Word Count: 2K
A/n: Okay y’all THANK YOU AGAIN SO MUCH FOR 10K FOLLOWERS IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MCUH OMG Anyway ahem here is part 10 and I hope you enjoy! We’re gonna have a more intense part coming next but until then, enjoy!
THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!
Series Masterlist
“We make for Asgard.”
~*~
“You look lovely. The colours of Asgard suit you well,” Thor says, his eyes raking over your figure from behind.
Adorning your body is a soft linen gown, the colour of cream. It is cut low in the front, a style Thor assured you is common in his kingdom, and has many different folds and layers to it, making it flow with every step you take.
The fabric itself is lightweight, and the straps lie thinly on your shoulders. The waistline is decorated with gleaming golden gems and is cinched rather tightly.
Over your shoulders is a dark red cape, the same colour as Thor’s.
Your hair is tied up away from your face intricately and elegantly, and a dainty diamond necklace rests around your neck.
You turn to face him, a deep feeling of unease settling in your stomach.
“What is to happen now?” You wonder aloud, eyes fluttering past his face and around the chambers that he’s deemed to be yours for the time being.
“Now we wait. The kings should be here soon, and then we will inform them of the letter you received. I promise you’ll be safe here, Petal.” He cups your cheeks and you swallow hard, nervous about the change in his attitude towards you.
“Thor?” You ask softly, taking a half-step backward in an attempt at removing yourself from his grip.
He surges forward, one hand dropping from your face to wrap around your waist as his lips crash against yours in a fierce and dominating kiss.
Your heart races in your chest and you shove against his face, trying to force him away from you.
Helplessness fills you as you realize that you’ll never be able to overpower him, and dread settles in your gut as he pushes you back until you’re pressed against the wall.
Your muffled cries for help, for him to stop, fall on deaf ears as his lips continue their assault against yours, prying yours open to give his tongue access to your mouth.
Thinking quick, you grip his bottom lip and bite down as hard as you can, drawing blood and successfully making him pull away from you.
He jumps back, one hand coming up to his mouth while you scramble back and away from him, chest heaving and eyes full of betrayal.
His jaw clenches and he takes a step towards you, only to stop when the doors to your chambers burst open.
“(Y/n)!” A familiar voice calls, two men rushing into the room and searching for you.
The tension in the room is palpable and the two Kings pick up on it instantly, their guards raising as they see the way you’re cowering from the blond King before you.
“Are we interrupting something?” Steve asks, his voice ringing with authority.
“No,” you say quickly, regaining your composure and squaring your shoulders as the words of the Valkyrie ring in your ears.
“Thor was just taking his leave,” you say pointedly, staring the King down for a long moment until he nods, bows then spins on his heel and leaves without a word.
You take a deep breath, power and fear chasing each other through your veins while your heart races in your chest.
“(Y/n), are you alright?” Steve asks softly, taking a step towards you and reaching for your hand. You yank it back towards your body, levelling him with a glare.
“If my purpose was solely to bear children, then why are you here if I failed?” The blond glances over at his husband, unsure of how he should address this.
“It is obviously not a secret. I have been threatened even since my departure, and the truth has been brought to my attention. So I ask again, why are you here?” James takes a careful step towards you, and then another, and another until he is standing just directly in front of you.
You keep your shoulders squared and your head held high, refusing to back down.
“(Y/n), there are things we must tell you... things we have not been completely honest about... things that involve our union, and our actions towards you. Will you allow us time to be honest with you?” You swallow hard but nod, wanting nothing more than the truth after all this time in the dark.
James takes your hand delicately in both of his and ushers you to the bed, sitting down beside you while Steve sits on your other side.
The brunet speaks first.
“We were told... by our council that we needed to find a wife. When they heard of our plans to join the two kingdoms of the North and wed each other... they tried to find any way to stop it. But upon seeing our power they relented until they realized that our reign would end if we did not have a queen.
“They gave us a timeframe to find a queen. One that could give us heirs and continue the lineage of both of us. We were presented with many women but you... you stood out from the many faces we saw.”
You frown, brows drawn together tightly as you ponder this.
“My purpose... right from the beginning was nothing more than what you had told me. What you said was true. What I was told is nothing but the truth,” you whisper to James, fighting back the tears that prick at your eyes.
Steve shakes his head, leaning closer to engage in the conversation. “No. Your purpose was... is to be our wife. A queen to our people and the mother of our children. You are meant to rule alongside us, not be behind or beneath us. You are our equal, although we have not treated you as such.”
You sniffle, shaking your head as if trying to shake your feelings away.
“Why have you treated me the way that you have? Why? What have I done to deserve such hostility?”
The two exchange long glances before James sighs and takes your hand, leading it to the thin scar at the base of his skull.
“Someone has operated on me. Altered me in a way that makes me hostile towards you and Steven. We do not know who, but we know that they are close enough to be near me without raising suspicion. I will never be able to apologize enough for my actions. I have hurt you far more than I ever could have imagined myself capable of. But with the help of doctor Banner, we were hoping to have more clues as to who is responsible for this. However, he is still in quite an unstable condition.”
You swallow hard, this new information having you beyond overwhelmed.
“Who would conspire against you in such a way? Who would have such hatred in their heart for the two of you that they would take it out on me?” The two kings sigh, their hearts heavy and their eyes filled with sadness.
“We do not know. But one thing is certain: we will not rest until we figure out who it is and until they are brought to justice.”
~*~
The two Kings settle in the guest chambers for the night, having insisted that you get your own space and that you are welcome to join them if you feel so inclined.
Your mind is still in shambles, thoughts scattered and emotions all over the continent as you prepare for bed.
A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts and you softly call for them to enter, your guard raising in an instant.
“How may I help you, Your Majesty?” You ask, jaw clenched tightly.
Thor takes a deep breath then lets it out, pacing slowly around your chambers.
“I stepped very far out of line, (Y/n). I let my emotions get the better of me and I was foolish. I apologize sincerely for my actions.” You watch him with furrowed brows, not sure if you should trust him.
“You have... entranced me. Bewitched me. Your husbands have not treated you fairly and, even in the short time that I've known you, I can tell that you are a woman deserving of the world. And if the world cannot be given to you then you deserve everything in it. And yet here you are, cowering from your own kingdom because they failed to protect you.” You want to interrupt. To tell him that he is not aware of the extent of the trauma that the Kings themselves have faced, but you hold your tongue instead.
“I can only hope that one day you will be able to forgive what has transpired today. For I value your company and your companionship and I would be devastated to lose it in any way. However, I will not blame you if you were to push me away. I was out of line and I allowed myself to be weak in a moment when I should have been strong. You needn’t give me an answer tonight, but I am offering my sincerest apologies. While you are here the Palace is yours. Anything you require will be brought to you promptly.”
He’s quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, his eyes on the ground.
“I bid thee goodnight, and I hope pleasant dreams find you tonight.” He turns to leave and you sigh, shaking your head.
“Thor, wait.” He does, turning back to look at you with those soft blue eyes of his.
“I appreciate and accept your apology. I do not look at you any differently because of what transpired, and I am grateful that you came to explain it. I appreciate your friendship and I am glad to have found solace in you, and it would be a shame to squander it over something so trivial.” He smiles, relief and happiness plain as day on his face.
“Good. Thank you for your understanding, (Y/n). Goodnight.” He leaves without another word and you put your head in your hands, beyond confused and frustrated with the feelings stirring inside of you.
You would be lying if you said that the Asgardian King wasn’t attractive. And he has been a friend in times when you’ve otherwise had none.
Shaking the intrusive thoughts out of your head, you exit your chambers and pad softly down the hall, stopping in front of the chambers that have been set aside for your husbands.
You knock twice, butterflies finding a home in your belly as you wait for one of them to allow you entrance.
The door gets pulled open and James stands in front of you, the formal look on his face dropping to give way to a soft smile.
“May I join the two of you tonight?” You ask quietly, looking between him and Steve. The blond looks on eagerly from his spot on the bed, nodding his head quickly.
“Of course, My love.” You bow your head in thanks and enter the room, oblivious to the eyes following your every move from a dark corner of the hallway.
The door shuts behind you but you continue to the bed, crawling on next to Steve while James extinguishes the lanterns lighting the room.
Steve makes room for you in the centre of the bed, pushing the blankets aside to allow you to get comfortable. James climbs on behind you, waiting until you’re settled to get comfortable himself.
Neither of the Kings touch you. No, they stay a respectable distance away.
“I am not so angry that I will not allow my husbands to embrace me,” you say softly, eyes closed as the events of the day catch up to you.
You’re then being held on either side by strong arms and right then and there, in that very moment, you feel the safest you have ever felt in your life.
#dark!bucky x reader x dark!steve#Stucky x reader#stucky x reader royal au#bucky x reader royal au#Steve Rogers x reader royal au#dark royal au#dark fic#tw dark fic#tw dark content#stucky/reader#Stucky x reader dark fic#stucky x reader dark au
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I saw this take on twitter about Hana & Kacchan having “reverse parallels” and since they both have apologised to Tenko/Deku (but one was more or less sincere and the other was absolutely sincere) and they said that, while Hana moved away from Tenko, Kacchan ran to catch Deku. There was also more to the thread abt Kacchan & Hana’s differences. They were sorta trying to argue that this is a clue that Hori intends for Bkdk to be sibling-like/brotherly. As a bkdk shipped, I’ve accepted that it makes sense.. cause it’s an established fact that Tenko & Deku parallel each other. Tenko having his own “Kacchan” makes sense. Tho yes I am a little sad since I’ve held a little bit of hope for romantic bkdk becoming canon. I just wanted to ask your opinion if Hana was really meant to foil Kacchan or was it just a reach?
okay so I have a couple responses to this.
1. while it's true that Horikoshi has woven a lot of deliberate parallels between Deku and Tenko's characters, that doesn't mean every single thing about their lives and every single person they interact with is a part of those parallels. which is to say that no, I don't really think Hana and Kacchan are meant to mirror each other in any kind of significant way. Hana's apology to Tenko was under completely different circumstances than Kacchan's apology to Deku; I really don't see any connection between the two situations. you might as well be trying to compare Hana to Endeavor, or Deku, or Hawks, or Aizawa, or any other character who's apologized to anyone over the course of the story.
2. please pardon the forthcoming rant, anon -- and I hope you know that none of this is aimed at you in particular -- but for me personally, this whole obsession with ships becoming canon is one of the most exasperating types of discourse there is. like, don't get me wrong, I totally understand people wanting to see their favorite ships validated by the author, and not to mention there's also the issue of having more LGBTQ+ representation. but speaking as someone whose own orientation (aromantic) has almost no representation in fiction whatsoever, it gets frustrating to see so many people dismiss non-romantic relationships as being an inferior type of ship, to the extent that calling a relationship "sibling-like" is now a commonly-used attack in ship wars. so many people view romance as this completely transformative element, to the point where two characters can literally tick every other box on the intimate personal relationship checklist, and none of it will matter to some people unless they actually confess their love and kiss.
and again, I'm not saying I don't understand it, especially since queerbating is a thing. it's one thing if a writer is genuinely just trying to portray a close friendship, especially in series where romance isn't really a focus. but it's another thing entirely if a writer is deliberately hinting at a romance in a blatant bid to attract a larger queer audience, while all the while having no intention whatsoever of having those hints lead anywhere. the issue, I guess, is that it's not always easy to tell which scenarios are the former, and which are the latter. and of course, you also have people who think that the former is a type of cop-out as well, because the thing is that romance is always viewed as the default. so for a lot of people, allosexual and alloromantic relationships are the only ones that get considered as far as representation goes.
but you know what, I'm just gonna say it; even knowing where people are coming from, it's still discouraging to know that so many people are so dismissive of aro and ace relationships that the thought of a favorite ship not becoming romantic in canon is considered a profound disappointment. and it's even more discouraging that the thought of a rival ship becoming canon is considered such an existential threat to some that they will literally use "oh, they're just like siblings" as an argument against the ship, rather than a point in favor of. because siblings are a downgrade. friendship is a downgrade. any kind of close relationship that isn't inherently romantic or sexual in nature is less important, and that's just how it is.
so yeah, that's kind of a pet peeve, ngl. especially since the truth is I actually do think Bakugou and Deku's relationship is very akin to siblings. and so I do sometimes get weary of not being able to just outright say that without having to first pepper the statement with all kinds of disclaimers so that people don't think I'm invalidating the ship. I feel like I have to walk on eggshells if I ever want to talk about their relationship in terms that I can personally relate to.
but I mean, here's how I look at it. they've known each other since they were small children. they call each other exclusively (or almost exclusively) by childhood nicknames. they have an openness and an unspoken, almost taken-for-granted trust in each other to the point where they'll share closely guarded secrets ("I got my quirk from someone else") and personal vulnerabilities ("why was I the one who ended All Might?") with barely a second's hesitation which they would never share with anyone else. they have a comfortable little bickering type of rapport ("I'm getting stronger"; "well I'll just have to get even stronger then"; "you'll never surpass me"; "we'll see about that") which they can fall into with ease and which looks weird af to outsiders, but is "normal" to them and something they're both grateful to have.
they're so intimately familiar with each other's personality and behaviors that they can predict them with perfect accuracy. they're so in tune with each other that they can whip up elaborate coordinated attacks right on the spot in perfect sync. their admiration for each other is so strong that they each think of the other as being the epitome of winning and saving, respectively. their mental images of each other are so vivid that they subconsciously mimic each other's speech patterns whenever they start falling into a particularly strong Win or Save mindset themselves. they take no small amount of pride in showing off for each other. they go apeshit any time the other is in danger or hurt. and each of them would literally die for the other if it ever came to that.
all of that is already canon. on just about every metric imaginable except for "now kiss", the two of them already have a canon intimacy that rivals just about every other great relationship out there. and so to say that none of it actually counts unless there's an actual love confession involved frankly just boggles me. again, maybe it's because I have no personal vested interest in romance myself, though. I'm literally just not wired that way, and so I'm really not the best person to vent to when it comes to these kinds of concerns.
but look, no matter what happens from here on out, these two care about each other on a very deep and personal level. they're going to continue to be a part of each other's lives no matter what. and each of them, no matter what, will continue to occupy a space in each other's lives that no other person can fill, regardless of how we or Horikoshi or anyone else choose to label and define that space. and so in my book, that's already a win.
anyways, apologies again for the impromptu rant. again, this wasn't particularly directed at you in any way; if anything it's mostly just a generic response to the constant shipping discourse in this and every other fandom, and a more detailed explanation for why I personally don't like to get involved in it. this is just one of the myriad reasons why I try my best to stay very far away from BnHA twitter lol.
#bakugou katsuki#midoriya izuku#bakudeku#bnha meta#aspec#aromanticism#aromanticism in fiction#bakugou meta#deku meta#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha 322#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha#asks#anon asks#long post
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