#and i fuckin mean ALL that matters in your dumb little idiot brain is how can i make a cool necklace out of that? a belt buckle? an earring
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‘hey, how’d it go?’
‘uh. not great.’
‘shit. tell me.’
‘ well, it started kinda fine. she kept, like, looking at my neck, but she didn’t say anything. but we got along pretty well.’
‘ did you hook up?’
‘ well. we were going to. but it was… i don’t know. weird.’
‘weird awkward?’
‘yeah. like it just… jesus, i don’t know. it felt wrong? but not, like, wrong wrong, just. weird.’
‘sure.’
‘it was like we didn’t know what to do.’
‘how far’d you get?’
‘we made out. but when i went to take my shirt off, she said— i’m not exaggerating— oh my go-od.’
‘jesus, steve.’
‘yeah. honestly i don’t even know why i fucking bother.’
‘what do you mean?’
‘ i dunno. guess i knew i’m fucking ugly now, i guess i just kinda… i don’t know. hoped it wasn’t that bad. but i’m an idiot, so.’
‘jesus, steve, shut the fuck up.’
‘huh?’
‘you’re not— fuck, there was so much wrong with all of that, oh my god.’
‘eddie.’
‘no— okay, alright. steve. you’re not ugly.’
‘she recoiled, eddie.’
‘okay, well, cindy alden is a bitch. i remember her from school, she’s always been awful. don’t laugh, i’m serious, she’s terrible.’
‘okay, eddie.’
‘you’re not ugly.’
‘i’m…’
‘steve. you’re not ugly. your scars are cool.’
‘think you’re the only one that thinks that.’
‘well my opinion is the most important, so.’
‘okay, eddie.’
‘look. your scars are metal as fuck. even if you don’t think so.’
‘…’
‘when you see my scars, do you think they’re ugly?’
‘wha— no, of course not.’
‘so why do you think yours are ugly?’
‘…i dont know.’
‘have you actually looked at your scars? taken a really good look?’
‘i don’t really want to.’
‘look at them. now.’
‘eddie.’
‘come on, stevie, humour me.’
‘…okay. i’m looking.’
‘have you noticed how they, like, kinda swirl a little bit?’
‘…noticing that now.’
‘don’t they kinda look like storm clouds?’
‘…’
‘steve?’
‘yeah. a little bit. guess that’s… kinda cool.’
‘and the colours? aren’t they pretty?’
‘you’re trying to make me feel better about myself.’
‘yeah. i am. aren’t they pretty?’
‘…yeah. i guess.’
‘and our scars match. that’s pretty cool. they’re like friendship bracelets.’
‘some fucked up friendship bracelets. but yeah. it’s kinda nice that i’m not the only one.’
‘you’re not ugly, steve. even with your sick-ass scars, you’re ho— you’re so cool.’
‘yeah? you think i’m pretty, eddie?’
‘…anyway. don’t worry about what cindy alden has to say. you’re good. and you’re not an idiot.’
‘okay, eddie.’
‘don’t okay, eddie me, i’m serious. you’re pretty smart, steve.’
‘okay, maybe i’m not an idiot, but i wouldn’t go so far as to say i’m smart.’
‘well, it’s a good thing i’m not asking you, isn’t it? don’t sigh at me. you’re smart.”
‘eddie, i don’t mind being the dumb one of the group, it’s fine.’
‘no, it’s not, steve. you’re not the dumb one. just because you’re not a science nerd or something doesn’t mean you’re not smart.’
‘in what way am i smart?’
‘you’re observant as fuck, steve. i’m serious, you are. dustin and robin told me about how they only realised the russian code was coming from hawkins because you were the only one that recognized the music in it.’
‘…’
‘we only figured out we could communicate from the upside down because you heard dustin. no one else heard him.’
‘you guys thought i was crazy.’
‘yeah, until we heard him too, and then i thought holy shit, this guy’s got ears like a fuckin’ bat.’
‘…’
‘you knew how to drive that rv right away.’
‘didn’t have much of a choice.’
‘what i meant was that you’d never driven an rv before.’
‘…‘s true.’
‘you’re really smart, steve. you’re… resourceful. and intuitive, and observant, and it doesn’t matter if you don’t know science-y shit.’
‘…okay.’
‘and even if you weren’t smart, it wouldn’t matter. you’re more than your body and brains, stevie.’
‘what else am i, eddie?’
‘jesus, where should i start? …okay. you’re really sweet.’
‘sweet?’
‘so fucking sweet, steve, you’re one of the nicest people i know. even in high school, you were nicer than the other douche bags. and now you’re… you’re kind, steve. even if you’re being bitchy. you’re kind, and considerate, and patient when you need to be.’
‘…okay.’
‘and you’re… you’re funny. i know all the kids make fun of your jokes, but i laugh at all of them.’
‘thanks.’
‘you’re a good friend.’
‘am i?’
‘remember what i said about you being observant?’
‘yeah?’
‘i swear you can walk into a room and just… know. like, if anything is wrong, you pick up on it immediately, it’s insane. and you always know exactly what people need. you’re… safe.’
‘…safe?’
‘yeah. safe. everyone’s totally comfortable around you. the kids fucking adore you.’
‘really?’
‘yeah. the other day we were hanging out while you and robin were at work, and erica sighed very loudly and complained that she missed you.’
‘erica said that?’
‘erica fucking sinclair said, and i quote, i miss steve.’
‘…that’s really nice.’
‘you’re a good guy, steve, seriously. you’re selfless and brave and kind, and i love how you look after everyone, and how your eyes light up when talk about your sports, and how you get all mushy about the kids when they’re not around, and—’
‘…’
‘look. you’re, like, the best. and it— it breaks my fucking heart to hear you talk about yourself like you’re some piece of shit.’
‘…’
‘steve?’
‘…’
‘fuck, are you crying?’
‘…no?’
‘fuck, steve, i’m—’
‘eddie?’
‘yeah?’
‘i… i have to tell you something.’
‘what is it? are you okay?’
‘…i’m falling in love with you.’
‘…what?’
‘i’m sorry, eddie.’
‘no, don’t hang up, stevie— you’re— are you sure?’
‘yeah. i’m sure.’
‘but you… what about the girls?’
‘i was… i was trying not to— to fall for you, but you… fucking christ, eddie, you’re so…’
‘so?’
‘so good. you’re so perfect.’
‘fuck.’
‘im sorry, eddie.’
‘don’t apologise, stevie, i’m— i’m in love with you too.’
‘…say it again.’
‘i’m in love with you, too.’
‘holy shit.’
‘are you okay?’
‘i’m okay. i’m… can you come over?’
‘…to yours?’
‘or— or i can go to yours, i just— i wanna see you.’
‘you do?’
‘i wanna… i wanna kiss you.’
‘fuck. fuck, fuck, ow, okay, i’m—‘
‘what just happened?’
‘i fell off my bed, i’m fine, i can be there in a few minutes.’
‘are you sure?’
‘holy shit, steve, yes, i’ll be right over.’
‘okay.’
‘okay.’
‘wait, eddie—’
‘yeah?’
‘…i love you.’
‘fuck. i love you too. i’ll be right there, stevie.’
‘okay.’
#kinda wanna do a part two but it would just be them making out#if anyone has a plot idea feel free to steal this#steddie#steddie brainrot#steddie blurb#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things blurb
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Kid!MC/Teen!MC Needs someone to go to Parent Teacher Interviews for Them and Guess Who’s Available?
Masterlist
The brothers being bad babysitters/dad figures is something I love very much, I bet you all could already tell that considering the Fic/Headcanon series I have going on. I would just like you all to know that Asmo’s section is based on a true story. Anyhoo~ onto the Headcanons!
Why? Why Him? (Lucifer)
Is MC really dumb, or are they just a kid? No one knows.
Obviously MC asked Lucifer, the only competent one in the house, the most professional, hard-working, controlled-
MC got their things together and gave Lucifer the run down on their teacher(s) before Lucifer got too absorbed in extolling his own virtues in an intense internal monologue.
News flash Lucifer, this isn’t a Shakespeare play, you can’t have a dramatic monologue or soliloquy about how great you think you are
At the actual meeting, if MC is in there, no, MC is not actually in there. Lucifer will speak to the teacher as if MC isn’t there. As someone whose not a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down kind of person, Lucifer expects the teacher to behave the same and not spare MC’s feelings.
Feelings do not deserve to be spared if MC is being a nuisance. No fake-kid/little sibling of his gets to be the class idiot!
If MC’s doing very well academically, he expects to be pointed at projects or tests they’ve done and the grade on it. It really makes him proud to see MC doing well.
Even if they’re not the best academically, if they’re not failing and they’re doing well in other aspects of school, he’s proud.
If MC really struggles in a school environment and just hates it there but they’re still keeping their head above water, they get a head pat of approval.
On the drive home, if MC came with him to the parent teacher interviews and everything went well, he just happens to turn onto the street that has a Baskin Robin’s or something of that caliber.
If they didn’t go, he picks something up on the way back.
No fun treats if MC is being a disruptive little heathen in class, no kid under Lucifer’s care is going to be the class Mammon. Not on his watch.
MC was busily stuffed their face with the treats that were gifted to them. Lucifer had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at the kid’s blatant disregard for basic table manners when it came to sweets.
“Is everything the teacher said true?” Lucifer asked, MC looked up at him with a smile.
“Yep!”
“Good, good.” Lucifer held out his hand and patted them on the head. “You’re doing well. Keep it up.”
“Geez,” MC mumbled as they continued to stuff their face. “Can you get anymore affectionate?”
“Don’t be sarcastic, MC. It’s uncouth.” Lucifer said sternly. “Besides, I’ll have you know that many people enjoy my headpats. I’m quite affectionate.”
“Really now? Name one person.”
Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He and MC stared each other down, one pair of eyes much more nervous than the other. Spoiler, MC was still calmly eating their treat as they maintained eye contact.
“…Cerberus.”
“If you’re reaching for Cerberus, you’ve already lost.”
…his pride was under attack. Right in front of his desert…
“You’re grounded.”
“Worth it.”
*Rides by on a Skateboard* School is for NERDS (Mammon)
Pff! Stupid human! He’s not goin’ to some lame parent teacher conference-
Wait! What’s with that face?! Ugh… fine. MC’s gone and forced his hand with those damn puppy dog eyes…
Mammon does not dress up for this event, he dresses like he would every day, maybe throw on some designer stuff to let all the parents and teachers know he’s hot shit.
If MC goes with him, he pulls up in his beloved car and takes up two parking spaces (pure evil.). Every parent present already hates him, but at least the other kids there are impressed with MC’s sweet ride. MC would have gained some street cred if Mammon hadn’t managed to trip up the stairs to the classroom in front of everyone.
He’ll act way to casual with the teacher, turning the parent chair backwards and sitting down so he can lean on the seat.
Mammon gets bored crazy quickly while the teacher lists and explains all the stuff the class is learning, so his eyes begin to wander to any and all displays in the classroom. Projects, annoying posters, class pet, anything is more interesting than this teacher’s explanation.
When MC finally becomes the main topic of the interview, he’s all ears. MC’s doing great in school academically? Ha! Nerd! Maybe giving MC a playful noogie and interrupting the whole interview wasn’t a good idea, but whatever.
If MC’s failing anything, or just isn’t that gifted when it comes to grades, it’s very much a “Aw man me too” from Mammon.
This teacher is speaking with the Great Mammon, the first demon in RAD’s history to fail three semesters in a row. If this teacher thinks bad grades will phase him, they’re dead wrong.
Grades don’t mean anythin’ about smarts anyway! I mean, look at him! He’s a fuckin’ genius but he can’t get through a history test without sobbing even though he LIVED THROUGH MOST OF IT.
MC gets treats no matter what’s up in class. Though, if MC didn’t go with him, he’s likely to forget and just order something for the two of them when he gets back home.
“Goddamn teachers and their rambling!” Mammon whined, grabbing a slice of pizza from the open box on his coffee table. “You owe me, MC! Ya really do!”
“Yeah yeah yeah.” MC said, they leaned over and rolled a pizza slice into a pizza-scroll then proceeded to eat it like a veggie roll. “How do you think I feel, listening to them every day? You know how long it takes to get to the actual class material?”
“Five years?”
“Ugh! Five years if I’m lucky! I swear, I know more about my teacher’s grievances with like… five of my classmates than I do about trigonometry, and guess which one’s on the test next week?”
Mammon winced in sympathy, then remembered he was supposed to be whining and went back to it. “School’s shit and a waste of money, ya should drop out as soon as you can and help me run my new business.”
“You mean your pyramid scheme?”
“It’s not a pyramid scheme, MC! It’s legit! It’s a multi-tiered marketing-”
“It’s a pyramid scheme.”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SOCIAL INTERACTION (Leviathan)
Everyone else must have been sick or something for MC to have asked Levi. He’d flat out refuse to go otherwise.
So, Levi couldn’t exactly go to the interview in his usual “I haven’t left my room or changed clothes in eight weeks” look. With the help of MC, he was able to find his military uniform at the back of his closet.
Asmo nearly fainted when he saw Levi in the uniform, not because “oooo, a man in uniform~”, it was because the outfit was so crumpled and wrinkled that it made it physically painful to look at. No time to iron and wash, the conference was in an hour!
Levi (and MC if they went with) rolled up to the school in a less than impressive ride, but one look at the uniform and all the other people present went “yep, time to be respectful (tm)”
For the first time in his life Levi was more intimidating than Lucifer! And he wasn’t even trying!
When the teacher starts explaining the course material, Levi spaces off in horror as he realizes he remembers literally nothing from school (AND HE’S STILL IN SCHOOL!) all that’s running through his head is “A squared + B squared = C squared” and “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell”.
The actual interview was the least interesting part of the trip, the real stuff happened when Levi passed by some art on display in the hallway and something caught his eye-
Those colours… that hair… that adorable smile..!
IT WAS HER! LEVI’S PRECIOUS RURI-CHAN IN ALL HER GLORY!
Levi immediately started fawning over the art class fanart and by sheer coincidence, one of the kids walking through the hallway happened to notice.
The kid asked MC if their… parent and or guardian liked anime. MC responded with “obviously.” Levi then asked the kid if they drew his adorable Ruri-chan. The kid said no, and that they drew the My Hero Academia fanart a few rows down.
Levi was absolutely floored that there were two anime fans in one class, then his entire world shattered when MC explained there was more anime art inside the art room and other classrooms.
H-hang on… did that mean that… a lot of people here… liked anime..?
Levi needed a while to process. No snacks on the way home…
Levi and MC were sat in the back of their Uber, Levi, the Avatar of Envy himself, was having his entire sense of reality warped. S-so much anime fanart… in a school of all places..! What did this mean for the future of anime?!
“Levi. Stop.” MC sighed. “If this were an anime, the camera angle would be doing that thing where it’s right on the bridge of your nose and dramatic music plays in the background.”
“S-so many kids in your class like a-anime huh..?” Levi stuttered, weakly trying to smile. “Must be nice..?”
“Oh, that’s just my class. The other classes and grades have their fans too.”
“Oh… really?”
“Levi,” MC stopped looking out the window and looked at the otaku that was having a full scale silent mental breakdown. “Anime isn’t even a niche interest anymore. It’s a pretty casual thing to watch now. At least a third of my class watches- Levi?”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH! ANIME! A THIRD OF THE CLASS?! ANIME… HIS PRECIOUS ANIME… WAS BECOMING A NORMIE INTEREST! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-
“Levi?” MC waved their hand in front of their spaced out demon’s face. “Leviiiii? Okay he’s dead.”
The Know it All (Satan)
Ah, a smart choice, MC. Satan would be glad to help further their education. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure that the human’s brain is fed all that sweet sweet knowledge.
Satan can’t dress himself normally, MC had to coax him into a suit jacket, but he still only wore one sleeve.
MC was coming along to the interviews whether they wanted to or not, it’s important to hear what they need to improve on from the teacher themselves after all.
The two arrived pretty early, so Satan asked MC for a tour of the school. It was pretty tame until they reached the library. Satan was horrified at the state of some of the books…
Their spines lined with duct tape… pages missing and torn… someone apparently used a taco as a book mark…
The first thing Satan does when it’s time for his interview is demand the teacher take better care of the library, even though they’re not the librarian. MC tries to explain this, but Satan is too distraught to listen to reason.
He enjoyed hearing about the course material, but he made it known if MC thinks the assignments are too easy that they need to be given more challenging work. THEIR BRAIN NEEDS TO BE STIMULATED DAMN IT.
It was up to MC to either agree with Satan and nod to the teacher, or make frantic eye contact with them to try and communicate “NO DON’T PLEASE”.
Similar to (ugh) Lucifer, as long as MC is doing their best, he’s happy for them.
…but if they are in any way in the running for valedictorian he is HELPING THEM WIN.
He decided to stop at a cafe or bookstore to let MC pick out a “congrats on surviving your pitiful school” present after the interviews.
MC gleefully perused the shelves of the bookstore, there were so many books too look at…
“I’ll buy you as many books as you’d like, MC, just,” Satan shuddered slightly. “Promise me you won’t treat them like those poor library books…”
MC put their hand over their heart. “I swear on the duct taped book spines that I will never treat a book like that.”
“Good… good…” Satan breathed a sigh of relief and went back to looking at his book about cats.
“Are you… reading a Warrior Cats book..?” MC asked tentatively.
“Yes, why?”
“Satan, put that back.”
“I Will Seduce the Teacher For the Sake of Your Grades, Don’t Worry.” (Asmodeus)
Oh MC dear! He’d be delighted to go! Just let him get ready~
Asmo may not be the best choice, but he was at least going to be the best dressed person at that conference. (And MC just had to come too so all the other parents could be jealous of how well coordinated their outfits are)
He teased MC a little by saying he was going to flirt with their teacher to make sure they passed the class, but he was just kidding! …but he made sure to ask if their teacher was cute, he needed to know!
While waiting for his turn, Asmo flirts with some of the single parents, if he doesn’t see a wedding ring, they’re fair game.
Once his time slot arrived, MC realized that Asmo is one of those “my child has done and will do nothing wrong ever” types. This may have ended up working in MC’s favour if they were a class nuisance.
If MC is doing very well in sports, clubs, grades, anything, Asmo is fawning over them and gushing to the teacher about how great, smart and adorable they are.
Asmo surprisingly does not exactly flirt with the teacher, he was just teasing MC after all. But um… if MC’s teacher just happens to be cute and young, he may turn up the charm, just a little. Enough to make the teacher giggle and make MC cover their face in embarrassment.
After the interviews Asmo will probably schedule a nice day out for the two of them, shopping, a movie, mani pedis, something fun!
The real weird stuff happens in the months after the interviews… if Asmo did lightly flirt with the teacher, MC gets quite a few questions about their guardian. Questions that ask if Asmo is single in not as many words…
Oh lord, MC’s teacher developed a crush on Asmo.
Nail painting night was supposed to be a fun occasion, but MC was hopping mad and embarrassed. Asmo didn’t seem to notice as he continued to paint the little human’s nails.
“And then I told Phenex to get lost. The nerve of that little monster, right MC?” When MC didn’t reply, Asmo looked up and tilted his head. “MC?”
MC’s angry face would have been much more threatening if they weren’t just so adorable, but it was getting the message across.
“MC..?”
“Asmo.” MC’s glare deepened. “My teacher wants to know if you’re single.”
Asmo blinked a few times, before he hit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Really now~. I knew they’d be madly in love with me-”
“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIS?!”
Oh My Demon King is That a BAKE SALE?! (Beel)
Of course Beel said yes! He’d gladly go to MC’s parent teacher interview!
He even put on a nice outfit :D he ended up looking a bit like a secret serviceman guarding MC, the tiny president.
Beel stopped for McDonald’s on the way there, all the other kids were so jealous of MC when they stepped out of the car eating fries.
But a little something something caught Beel’s eye when he and MC walked into the school… was that a… bake sale?
MC quickly explained that the bake sale was fundraiser for their class trip that year and the snacks weren’t complimentary. He had to pay.
And pay Beel did. He cleared out the entire table. MC’s grade’s overnight trip was going to be decadent as hell. That was no longer a crowd funded thing, that trip was privately funded by a tall buff ginger secret service member and this tiny in comparison child.
Kids are incredibly blunt, just like Beel, so when a random kindergarten kid wandered over, looked up at Beel, and very knowingly said “you’re very tall”. Beel was like “yeah”. The kid then said “what’s it like being that tall?”
Beel’s response to this kid’s question was to pick them up and hold them for a few seconds before placing them back down. For just a few moments this kid knew what it like to be over 6’4. Of course, more kids swarmed in and asked to be picked up.
Sure it was cute, but Beel now has an army of kids ranging from kindergarteners to third graders.
Finally, the conference actually began. Beel snacked the entire time and dutifully listened to everything the teacher had to say.
After the interviews are over, he checks with MC to make sure everything the teacher said was true and that they weren’t lying. If all was well, the two made their exit.
They stopped at Wendy’s on the way home.
“I’m so full…” MC groaned, Beel held up a massive cookie.
“So I can eat this?”
“No. Gimme that.” MC took a very defeated bite out of it. “My stomach says no but my mouth says yes…”
“I don’t want you to get a stomachache, MC,” Beel said worriedly. “No more snacks.”
“It’s a little late for that. It’s past nine and I’m still eating, there’s no way I’m getting to sleep at a reasonable hour.”
“Oh…” Beel mumbled. “I may have not completely thought this through.”
“*Snore* Huh? Wha? MC’s Grades? Uh… Fuck…” (Belphie)
MC must be failing a class or something because why on earth would they pick Belphie otherwise.
They ask him to go while he’s delirious from just waking up from a nap, he sort of half nods and mumbles some gibberish before going back to sleep.
MC had to basically carry his ass to the school. Belphie drooled all over them in the waiting room, and when it was their time to go into the interview, Belphie had to be manually put into the chair and slapped awake.
He barely listens, he just sits and nods along with whatever the teacher is saying. The teacher could say MC brought an alligator to school and he’d just go “uh huh…” “mmmph… yep…” “really now?” then yawn.
The only thing that could possibly get Belphie to be interested is if MC is studying space. If they are, than boy howdy is Belphie suddenly interested in their education.
Other than that? *snore*
If MC is in fact failing or doing poorly, MC’s teacher asks to see another one of MC’s guardians at a later date. Their plan failed miserably.
MC drags Belphie out of the school and yells at him for not helping them. Belphie, still sleep delirious, tries to press the snooze button. MC does not have a snooze button.
“Belphie!” MC shouted, shaking the Avatar of Sloth awake. The House of Lamentation’s resident bastard was somehow sleeping standing up outside. “HOW COULD YOU?!”
“Eh?” Belphie half-snorted and looked around confused. “What’d I do? Where are we?”
“At my school! You said that you’d go to my parent teacher interviews!”
“…MC I don’t think I’d pass well for you.”
“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AS MY GUARDIAN!”
“Sheesh,” Belphie murmured while he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. “You humans are so noisy.”
MC looked up at their dearest demon friend, and gave him their best glare. “I’m going to take all your fancy temperature changing pillows and switch them with normal pillows you traitorous bastard.”
#obey me#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me! headcanons#Obey me Lucifer#Obey me! Lucifer#OM! Lucifer#Obey me Mammon#Obey me! Mammon#om! Mammon#Obey me Leviathan#Obey me! Leviathan#om! Leviathan#Obey me Satan#Obey me! Satan#OM! Satan#Obey me Asmodeus#Obey me! Asmodeus#Om! Asmodeus#Obey me Beelzebub#Obey me! Beelzebub#Om! Beelzebub#Obey me Belphegor#Obey me! Belphegor#Om! Belphegor#Obey me MC#Obey me! MC
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Can I request headcanons for yandere Bakugou, Todoroki and Deku where they have been leaving their darlings voicemails proclaiming their love and whatnot and seeing as they're not reacting badly to it, their darling must be happy. Turns out they haven't heard any of it because they don't know how to access their voicemail
Oh gosh oh gosh I love this concept??? Thank you for requesting!
Okay so,,, these get a little unhinged real quick because i am in a mood so!
Tw: Dacryphilia, degradation, stalking, yandere relationships, unhealthy relationships, (Maybe?? just in case,,,) dumbification, lots of cussing (Thanks katsuki.) They’re all pretty abusive,,, Midoriya’s gets a little n/sfw-ish? Like just motions of moans but,, to be safe also panty stealing. I love these boys so much so i’ll make them terrible,,, as a treat.
All of these characters are third years!
So here now, we have a temperamental one.
And no, it’s not Katsuki.
It’s Shoto.
Half cold, half hot.
He’s easy to anger. If you say the wrong thing, well you’re in for it.
But, he likes you.
You’re always smiling at him.
He knows that you smile at others but there has to be something to smiling at him, right?
People tell him he’s handsome, they tell him he looks good. Women ask for his number.
So you smile at him because you like him.
So he’ll dote on you a little.
He has your number. He paid someone for it.
And he’s been leaving you just about the nicest things he could.
He loves talking to you, even if he doesn’t quite feel comfortable talking to you face to face.
And he just loves telling you how sweet you look for him. How cute your voice sounds and how he just loves you.
“I’ll make sure to marry you one day. You’ll have anything you want.”
“You looked so sweet in that outfit today, once we’re married, I’ll get you something like it. Would you like that? I’ll make sure you have the nicest clothing for when you walk down the isle, goodbye.”
“Your voice is stuck in my head, I can’t wait until I can hear your voice all day in our house together. Goodbye, I can’t wait to see you.”
“When we have a child, you’ll be a wonderful parent. I love you, goodbye.”
“You’ll marry me, right? Goodbye darling, say yes.”
And well, Shoto wasn’t being told to stop, but you weren’t talking to him.
At all.
And so, he tries to ask you about it after class, in the dorms when you two are in the common room.
Luckily for Shoto, you’re the only one there.
You send him a quick smile as you see him sitting in the corner, before you return to stretching.
It makes his heart stop - just for a few seconds - before hastily standing up and walking towards you.
“Why haven’t you said yes?” He’s got that intense sound in his voice, like it’s as important as finding a villain.
“Yes to what?” You’re still stretching as you look up into his eyes.
It’s clear to him that you don’t have a clue. And really, that shouldn’t make him angry. It’s irrational to think that you’ve been deliberately ignoring him. But who doesn’t check their voicemail?
“The messages I’ve left you, why haven’t you responded to any of them, don’t you love me?” Shoto feels as calm as ever.
You’ve stopped stretching. Expression blank as you attempt to process whatever is going through your head.
“Of course I love you!” And your smile is back. Shoto nods, of course you love him, he can give you whatever you nee- “You’re one of my friends!”
Oh.
“Oh.” Ice begins to melt beneath his flesh
“I don’t know what messages you’re talking about though, did you ask Sero for my number? Class notes, right?”
You can’t not know how to check your voicemail. No one is that stupid.
“The messages I left you. You must’ve checked them.”
“I’m uhh..” You laugh a little. Normally it’d make him blush. “I don’t know how to check them. Sorry Todo...”
“You know exactly what I am talking about.” The look you give him is nothing but confused.
“I... don’t, could you explain it to me?”
“You wouldn't need this explanation if you just talked to me.”
“Sorry Todoroki, I didn’t know you wanted to talk.” You’re a good actor, because there's no way you didn’t know he wanted to talk to you, to marry you.
“I’ll show you.” He grabs you hand and yank you off the ground. “Give me your phone.”
“Wha-” You shiver.
“Your phone. Give it to me.” You hand it over without hesitation. “Good.”
It doesn’t take long for him to find the messages he left.
“How do you know my password?” He ignores your question.
He opens the most recent message he left. Just this morning.
“Good morning. I want you to know, that our marriage won’t be a quirk marriage. I can’t wait to see what you’ll look like in the dress i have picked out, I love you. Goodbye.”
“Todo-”
“Shoto. I’m going to be your husband.”
“I- give me some time to process-”
“You have had plenty of time to process. So you must’ve been ignoring me.”
“I haven’t!” It’s adorable how desperately you try to lie. You’re quite good at it.
“Be quiet.” His voice is devoid of emotion. “You can’t go around ignoring your future husband like that. Now we’re going to have a nice, long chat about this in my room.
“But Todoro-”
“You will call me Shoto.” He sends a flare of ice up your arm.
“Shoto! You’re name is Shoto and I-” Your free hand scratches desperately at the ice.
“Desperately trying to get me to remove the ice.” He gives you a cold smile. “Once you really learn your lesson, that won’t happen again. Got it?”
You nod. Tears dripping down your cheeks.
“You wouldn’t be crying if you didn’t ignore me.” He pets your hair. “Now, I’m more than a friend to you, right love?”
“Of course Shoto! I love you more tha-”
“Then smile like you do.” You look like you’re helpless with those tears in your eyes though.
You try, you really do but this is where your acting prowess stops. It’s not a cute, sweet thing like normal. No, it’s ugly and contorted.
“Try again.” Practice makes perfect. “That isn’t what I asked for.”
You wipe your tears with your free hand. He should’ve frozen them both. You’d have to learn to rely on Shoto sooner or later. You take a deep breathe and fix your face into that adorable little smile you gave Shoto.
“Was that so hard?” He brings a chilled hand to your face to wipe away a tear that had gotten away from you. “Come, we’ll talk in my room. Once your arm melts, we’ll see if you’ve learned your lesson.”
Katsuki only has your number for study sessions, he swears.
Your friends don’t believe it no matter how loud he yells.
Probably for good reason.
You’re not doing nearly as poor as Kirishima in terms of grades, and you weren’t a bad note taker either. So the fact that Bakugou still invited you to study and the fact that he seemed a little extra harsh on you?
Your friends find it a little strange.
But Bakugou also calls Kirashima “Shitty Hair” so it’s not really out of character for him to tell you how much of a dumbs you are for getting from point A to B in a different way than normal.
Hell, Bakugou does it the way too.
He tells you it’s because you’re “A shitty extra who’s just trying to be better than me!”
Which, to be fair, checks out with how he treats the rest of the class.
So he’s fine.
Your friends are just a little paranoid that’s all.
And he can understand that. After all, who wouldn’t want to protect you?
He even leaves you little messages. He thinks they speak for themself.
“You got bruised today when you were trying that shitty new move of yours. Be more god-damn carful next time!”
“Hey. Why aren’t you at our study sessions? Shitty Hair isn’t as stupid as you and he actually understands the material. I’m stuck here for another damn hour if you don’t- Oi! Pick up the fucking phone you shit head!”
“Fuck, I went a little far with the last message. I saw your new cut. Did you get it from a shitty piece of paper? You’re a fucked up excuse for a hero if you got beat by a piece of paper. Don’t worry doll, once I’m with you, I’ll kiss it all better.”
He leaves countless messages a day.
You haven’t even thought about them he bets.
Your brain might as well be a cows, you’re so fucking stupid.
“Oi! Cow brain! Talk to me.” He doesn’t dare drag you over. You’re still delicate even if you have the mental capacity of a shrew.
“One second Bakugou, I’m going to talk to Mr. Aizawa about mastering my quirk.”
You haven’t even figured out how to master your quirk? So fucking useless. But he waits for about fifteen minutes outside the door.
“We need to have a study session.”
“Why? I’m doing pretty well, aren’t I?”
“Not with that stupid burn mark you got from sparring with the laser extra!”
“Aoyama?”
“Fuckin Aoyama.” Little blond bitch is trying to hurt you.
“I’m fine Bakugou, i’m going to be a hero I should get used to a few cuts and burns, with the villain climate,”
“The fucks a villain climate?” You don’t even know that climate is used for weather. You really are a stupid pig. Someone needs to save your bacon, huh?
“The way villains are at the-” Damn your eyes look like a deers’
“I know what a villain climate is!”
“So, you pulled me aside to study, right?”
“At least you remember that.” Any smart person would’ve figured out that was a lie though. “But you’re a fucking idiot for thinking that was the case. You’ve been getting my notes, you know how fuckin worried I am about you getting hurt.”
“You worry about me getting hurt?” Your mind really did move like molasses.
“Pretty fuckin slow on the uptake there sweetheart.”
“You’ve been sending me messages?” Oh fuck. You’re even dumber than a cow.
“Are you completely braindead? I’ve been calling you a dumbass for months,”
“I don’t know how to open my voicemail, not my fault technology is confusing baku-”
“No one is that fucking dumb!”
“Bakugou, you’re yelling.”
“No Shit?! I wouldn’t need to be if you actually understood anything that I’m telling you! It’s not that fucking hard to understand you just open your damn phone, and click on those stupid ass red icons on the phone app.” If you weren’t so delicate and in need of keeping safe, he’d punch you.
“Oh uhh- Bakugou? Did you mean to play these?”
“Fuck no I didn't.” Maybe he’s a little obvious. But not so obvious that you’d pick up on it.
“I uhh really think I love you? Maybe it’s cause you're such a fucking dumbs that I can’t stand that you get hurt. It’s painful to see. Shit. I hate that I love you. Just die already.” Katsuki in the phone sounds like he’s gone soft. Can’t have that.
“Bakugou, it isn’t very heroic to tell someone to go d-”
“That’s the thing your shitty mind picks up on?” You’re such a cute little doll. “I just told you that I loved yo-”
“Even more of a reason to report you. Two pro heroes shouldn’t have a relationship, it’s unprofessional.”
“Your stupid ass really thinks you’re gonna be a hero? You can’t even go a round with Aoyama without getting a burn. Nah baby, you’re gonna be at home, well protected and away so that you don’t have a chance to fuck something up.”
“I’m going to be a hero Bakugou.”
“I tell you that I’m gonna keep you at home, away from everything and everyone and you’re concerned with being a hero? Dumb as hell.”
“Bakugou, you seem to be especially mean to me-”
“Fuck it. You wanna get a shitty Lunch Rush meal?” Oh it’d be so easy to drug you up. You probably don’t even think about people who might drug your food. You're just a stupid little doll.
Midoriya really likes stalking you, okay?
You’re cute, a real old family friend and really sweet too.
You were absolutely ecstatic when his mom held that dinner to celebrate his quirk’s manifestation.
He almost told you the truth about All For One.
Big developments should be shared with the people you love, right?
Course he never really got your number cause he’s a little bit shy, but.
You won’t mind if he finds it in your house, right?
He’s been there countless times before, so it’s not like this is anything big or new or a groundbreaking development.
It’s just, he’s here at night now, and you’re asleep. And so are your parents.
But he’s quiet, don’t worry! He’s not gonna wake anyone up. It’s a hero’s duty to make sure that others are okay, and that includes getting the proper amount of sleep!
So he makes his way around your house with a nervous shuffle.
How can he be calm when you’re sleeping just mere rooms away? It’s very distracting with you on the bed, just splayed out for him to watch and look at while you dream.
Sometimes you moan.
He likes to think he caused that.
He’s a little disgusted to think it, but he’s a little pent up. All the time
And you just look so cute on top of that bed-
But he came here for a phone number, and he’s gonna get one.
Besides, he’s going to be the number one hero, a symbol of peace! He can’t sully All-Might’s legacy with dirty thoughts!
So he finds your phone charging on a chest of drawers in your room.
After a few seconds of watching you sleep.
And oh you look good in a tank top and shorts, eyes closed and-
He picks up your phone to distract himself.
You were really trusting, weren’t you? You didn’t even have a lock on your phone.
He’d hug you if you wouldn’t wake up from his cold skin.
He’d do more than hug you-
Nope, not gonna think about that and Midoriya hates himself a little for looking through your drawer to find where you keep your panties.
There a lot of pairs to choose from, colored, patterned, laced... So many, pretty kinds of panties.
He settles for a pure, white pair. It’s plain. You won’t miss it.
After he pockets the guilt-inducing panties, he once again sets his sight on your phone.
Once again, he opens it, tries to find where you’ve put your contact information, and quickly duplicates it for his own device,
“Goodnight Bunny! Sleep well!” Oh what he wouldn’t give to kiss you goodnight.
After that, he decides to send you a few messages. They’re quick, innocent, sweet. He almost recorded himself cumming in your panties.
That morning, he wakes up bright and early, with even more energy than normal. He send you a good morning message, and moves on to stretch before class.
He isn’t late but the only notes he can take in classes are those about your sleeping habits.
You snore, you like to sleep on your left side rather than your right, meaning Midoriya is the little spoon, and you like to sleep in tank tops which means Midoriya has to start wearing them.
When lunch rolls around, before Midoriya meets with Iida and Ururaka he sends you a quick update.
He should probably return your panties,
After he washes them, of course.
He returns that night to your house with a notebook he’s decided to dedicate to you and your shared love story.
He checks your phone again and debates playing the recordings back to you in your sleep, or waiting for you to find his sweet surprise.
You’ve always likes surprises, you’d love one from him!
He looks at your panty drawer again.
It takes most of his willpower not to take another pair.
“Goodnight! Sleep well bunny!”
He makes a swift exit and leaves another message.
He repeats the process for several days and maybe it’s his imagination, but you sleep with a smile on your face now!
He wonders if it’s the returned panties that did it, or his messages.
Sunday is date night for your parents, and it’s U.A’s day off. It’s like the stars have aligned themselves for Izuku Midoriya and your love.
He’s going to ask if you like his messages and if you’d like him to start texting you.
After five days of sneaking in the night, finally Izuku can knock on your door and see the light shining on your perfect face.
He knocks on the door, dressed in casual clothes.
You answer in an All-Might hoodie and Izuku imagines it’s his All-Might hoodie.
“Oh! Hey Midoriya! Parents are out now, would you like to come in?”
“Oh uh! Yes please!” Even if he’d imagined this playing out so much, he can’t help the nervous tick of his hands. He’s so so close to you.
The door stays open until Izuku walks through, It’s nice to come in the front, and not a window.
You begin leading him towards the kitchen, hang a left out of the foyer.
“I just started some chicken nuggets, hopefully I made enough for you,” You spin around suddenly. “I don’t know why, but I don’t think I have your number.”
That means you haven’t listened to any of his messages then? Izuku’s smile drops.
“Oh it’s nothing personal, I just never thought of giving it to you before, agues i should’ve considering how long we’ve known each other. I didn’t mean to make you look so sad Doriya, here its...”
Would he have to show you his messages? Would he have to make you see how much he loved you?
But that... sounded so violent! So villainous. It wouldn’t be right.
“Hey..” You put a hand on his shoulder. It fits perfectly. “You got that Doriya?”
“Yes!” His smile isn’t hard to regain with your hand so warm on him.
“Nuggets are done too! How many you want?”
“Oh, I’m actually, not- that hungry.”
“Any reason?”
“In my-” What did should he — that’s got to work. “In my most recent work-study, there’s this case where someone is leaving voicemails to their targets,” But that makes him sound more villainous than he wanted to.
“Oh shit really?” You look very cute with your wide eyes.
“Uhm, yes?” It’s a terrible lie and anyone could pick it up if they weren’t so good and kind and trusting - and oh no.
It just had to make him sound like a villain.
“I’ve been getting some voicemails recently, and if it’s evidence or anything, do you need to take a look?”
“No,” He can feel the sweat dripping from his face. “It’s ah, fine?”
“Midoriya, if I have evidence and I don’t bring it in, wouldn’t that make me an accomplice?”
“Technically-” But if you knew they were from him why would you think they were an accomplice- you thought he didn’t have your number.
You hadn’t heard those messages.
“Do you know is it’s evidence?”
“Well I can’t actually open m voicemail but if it’s anything, you can teach me, right?
“Of course!” He offers a hand to take the phone. “You just -” He taps a few things, “There!”
And you two listen to them. Izuku has such a big smile on his face.
“Good morning! I hope you feel great today! I’m going to do the best i can today, and i know you will too! I love you!”
“I’m about to at lunch, i wonder what you’re having. Maybe one day, we can cook together? Love you, have a nice meal!”
“I’m about to get ready to come see you tonight, if you want to, stay up! I want to kiss you goodnight! Love you Bunny!”
“What is this?”
“I’m a little embarrassed, but it’s like the voicemails said! I love you, morning noon and night!”
“Midoriya, have you — oh god is that where my panties went?” The anger in your voice hurts him. “Get out.”
“Bunny I-”
“Get out of my house Midoriya. Before I call a real hero.”
“I love you!”
“You don’t love me, you like my panties and an idea you’ve cultivated because we were never really that close.”
“I’ve known you since i was-”
“Yes, you have, but it’s our parents who are friends - not us. If we were friends, by now I’d call you Izuku.” And like that the notebook of his brain that’s pages were being torn out and stomped on were being sewn back in by a practiced hand.
“You can call me Izuku, if you want.”
“Midoriya, i’m telling you, get out and I won’t report you. You could get your license revoked. You don’t want that.”
“But-”
“Leave.” The way you stood your ground was very admirable.
He makes a mental note, you are trusting, sweet, kind and headstrong.
He can work with those.
He’s suddenly glad he only returned one pair of panties.
He’ll get to visit you again real soon.
--
HOLY SHIT DID THAT TAKE FOREVER TO GET Through. I rewrote Shoto’s part five time but im pretty happy with it. Overall I think Bakuboi’s is the best.,., and Izuku,,, my poor deku,,, yours is.... interesting. Anyway thank you for the patience of the requester! And for also requesting these three lovely lads. Oh boy,,, time for some smut coming up...
#yandere BNHA#yandere x reader#yandere shoto todoroki#yandere shoto x reader#yandere shoto#yandere katsuki#yandere bakugo x reader#yandere Bakugo#katsuki bakugo x reader#shoto todoroki#bakugou katsuki#bnha x reader#bnha midoriya#bnha shoto#yandere midoriya#Yandere Midoriya Izuku#midoriya x reader#yandere izuku#yandere midoriya x reader#shoto todoroki x reader#yandere imagine#yandere#yandere bnha x reader#midoriya izuku#yandere imagines
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MEMORIES┊MAY THE BEST MAN WIN.
CONTENT :
↪ max's age: 22.
trigger warnings: fight mention.
“who d’you think will win?”
“big al, obviously.”
“nah, the other guy looks good.”
“ha! good for a dead man, maybe. didn’t you see the fight last week? big al just about slaughtered the dude.”
“yeah, well, i’m a bettin’ man.”
“you’re a fuckin’ idiot, is what you are.”
ah, pigeons. never did they cease to entertain her. so terribly dumb and naive. those that slinked their way through the golden rose warehouse in search of entertainment were often the kind that couldn’t rub two coins together if they had as much to their name. not that it made a difference to one such as herself, or the man she worked for. the aim of the game had always been to take them for all they had; no matter how large, or little.
and tonight is no different from any other. a crowd would gather around the ring perfectly centered on the ground floor of the house and, some unlucky fool would test his luck against their finest fighter. alan, so lovingly nicknamed ‘big al’, stood at six feet seven inches with bulging muscles and a nice, shiny, bald head. a pawn in LJ’s games, if nothing else. his only responsibilities were to make sure the club ran smoothly, and to put anyone who entered the ring with him on their ass. his winnings were LJ’s winnings and, their master never bet lightly on his oaf.
nothing encouraged a win like a monster breathing down one’s neck, after all.
truth be told, she liked alan. though mentally dimwitted and most certainly a house with lights on and no one home, their playful banter often aided her through the most boring of jobs and cases. he tended her wounds when her training became all too brutal for her tiny form to handle and her tab at the bar remained infinitely open without expectation for payment. though, she didn’t live in ignorance. the only reason alan liked her at all was because of her position. her power.
not a man alive within the crew refrained from taking a knee around her any more.
perhaps it’s a perk of being the boss’ right hand.
from her perch upon the highest floor of the warehouse, she could see all. the way patrons mingled with excitement, discussing their bets and the fights. even with the club moving to new york, LJ insisted the underground battles remained open to those sleezy enough to attend them. “pocket money,” he’d called it when she’d questioned the purpose of such repetitive and stale evenings. “an investment for the future.”
his motives still often confused her, even as privy as she were to his schemes. she’d often argue her efforts were enough to fund his plans, insisted on it so. but LJ would simply smile and kiss her, and remind her it never hurt to have options. as if she wasn’t enough. as if she alone could never be enough.
insignificant, he’d called her once.
a waste of his resources.
“we have a problem,” comes a familiar voice to draw her from her thoughts. the thief blinks herself back into existence, glancing over her shoulder at the man who so often softened her features. “al isn’t fighting.”
“hell do you mean he isn’t fightin’?”
“the boss pulled him out. he wants you in there instead.” orion comes to her side, concern written into his features as he rests his hands on her balcony, peering down at the ring already stained red.
“reason bein’?”
“a client’s request.”
it’s with an audible groan that she answers, hanging over the railings with the temptation to throw herself over it entirely. she, like most, loved the fight. but it wasn’t a fight LJ would be looking for. a performance, would be more accurate. one filled with dramatics and flare. the sorts to drag out, to keep watchers on their toes. such things were no fun for her. they lacked substance. if she were to enter the ring, she wanted blood. she wanted the thrill. “why can’ you do it?”
“because they didn’t ask for me,” orion chuckles, reaching out with a hand to tenderly grasp her shirt, pulling her back onto her feet. “it’s shelley’s man.”
“shelley ain’ nothin’ but a snivellin’ swine.” one who undoubtedly wished to watch her fight for the simple pleasure of seeing her. an uncomfortable matter, that much is certain and LJ so loved to parade her before him, given the chance. she could only assume they’d be rewarded with new deals, and new territory. that’s the point of nesting in new york, after all. LJ wanted hell’s kitchen.
and hell’s kitchen he most certainly would get.
“look, you do this well, and maybe he’ll lay off you for a while. give you a break. a happy boss is a happy life, remember?”
“yeah, yeah. what abou’ me, hm? what abou’ a happy max?”
orion grins, his fingers moving to brush the hair from her eyes. “a problem for later. curtain call is in five... break a leg?”
“oh, i’m goin’ to break somethin’,” she swears, swatting away his hand with a fond bout of laughter. “cheer for me, won’ you?”
“forever and always,” orion promises.
----------------------------------
and it’s safe to say that the crowd didn’t think much of her as she ducked into the ring. they were waiting for a guy five times her size and, to say they were disappointed by the short, little woman before them would be an understatement. it’s a scene she plays into, looking at their faces with her blue eyes doe like, her bottom lip puffed out in a pout. a few men boo, and she smirks in their direction. another whistles, and she responds in kind. the thief scans the stands for her audience; the fat man with a bad sense of fashion and her keeper and, when she finds them, she bows low, locking eyes with LJ for his order.
the man beside him — hudson, she comes to realise — takes a stand to offer her a round of applause. to this, she blows a kiss, taking on the role of court jester as if it’s the mask she always wore. hudson wipes the drool from his chin and sits back down next to LJ, a flurry of hushed and excited whispers offering her master thanks.
oh, to have a brain as small as hudson, so easily amused.
“ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! are you ready?” booms a voice from the speakers around the warehouse. orion enters the ring with a mic in hand, he too, playing his part. the crowd cheers, and the thief laughs, watching as he jogged around the ring with a hand in the air. “i can’t hear you,” he hums into the microphone, a mocking frown written into his features. “i said, are you ready?!”
inevitably, the crowd slips into a roar, drinks sloshing over the floor as pigeons raised their glasses, as they bumped into each other in their thrill. whether or not they’d been disappointed in the appearance of max, it didn’t matter. a fight is a fight and it’s what they were here for.
“good. that’s more like it,” orion praises, coming to a stand still in the middle of the ring.
it’d always been fun to watch orion work. he possessed quite the talent for engaging with crowds, for holding their attention. he’s the perfect example of what it is to distract and cause a scene, allowing those like herself to get up to no good unnoticed. it worked well here, for his encouragements and charm often lead bets to increase. orion could convince a man to willingly hand over his wallet, this much she’s sure of.
he’d won her over after all, hadn’t he?
and he does his part of introducing her, fondly reminding all of the nickname he’d so lovingly given her. “the devil of new orleans!” he cheers, grasping her hand in his to spin her into a twirl. she follows his step, rising onto her tip toes to pirouette. she glances to the stands as she poses, amused when hudson applauds her once more, and LJ smirks in approval.
he wanted a performance.
and a performance she would give.
“and facing the devil tonight is none other than... wow, really? you’re just gonna use your... okay... ahem... the uh! — it’s pete.”
now, she couldn’t help but giggle, the sight of her opponent arrogantly getting into the ring. he flexes his muscles, and she fakes a gasp, pressing her hand to her mouth. clearly the sight of a young woman instead of the big brute of a man he’d expected ignited the idea of an easy win. this, she could tell, for when orion wishes him luck with a pat on the back, pete shakes him off with a click of his tongue. “this isn’t a fight,” he barks, pointing at the thief with a confident smirk. “piece of cake.”
“i am very sweet, you’re righ’,” max nods, placing her hands behind her back. she threads her fingers together tight, locking them into place. “ain’ ever been called cake before, though. that’s new.”
“at the request of our most humble leader, this is a fight to the knock out. last man standing, wins,” orion announces, dipping out of the ring to clear the stage. “all rules are null. may the best man win!” and with that, he pulls his gun from his holster, pointing into the air. finish him, he mouths, his finger squeezing the trigger. a blank sounds like an alarm, and max turns her attention back to the man before her.
may the best man win, indeed.
#( drabbles. )#( idk i just wanted to do something funnnn and flesh out her history a bit!#badly written but u kno u kno u kno!! )#( pls ignore any mistakes and such because#what is proof reading?? i dont know her )
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bittersweet (Diego Hargreeves x reader)
Hello!!! This is kinda awful, I apologize in advance!
Summary: Diego has an unexpected visitor from his girlfriends past and he puts them in their place.
Warnings: Perhaps some bad language, maybe some bad writing, an awful ex is mentioned but nothing horrible. I used the name Terry for the ex, my apologies if that’s your name.
Word count: 2k(ish, give or take)
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Diego Hargreeves was an overprotective boyfriend. Not in the annoying, overbearing, bad, and manipulative way as some men can be; in a way that shows he cares greatly for his girlfriend and her well being.
It was just one of his ways of showing affection in public (in private it’s a different story and for y/n, Diego is one soft, domestic motherfucker).
But this morning had taken a turn for the worst.
Diego’s sweet sweet girlfriend had to run to the store to get coffee grounds (Five came over so much that they ran out rather quickly) and so Diego didn’t get his early morning dose of snuggles and kisses (and by God if anyone found out about that (mostly just Luther) he’d flip his lid).
And when he thought it couldn’t get worse, at exactly 7:45 AM there was a knock on the door.
Now, he knew it couldn’t be Y/N because she didn’t have to knock on her own door, it wasn’t Klaus or Vanya because Klaus would just walk in and Vanya would’ve called, Five would’ve just came through a window, and Luther and Allison were visiting Claire in LA.
And thirty seconds later when another round of knocks came Diego cursed, pulling a black sweatshirt over his head and walking to the front door.
The man on the other side wasn’t one he was familiar with and truthfully he didn’t like the look of him - but he looked weak so begrudgingly Diego opened the door. “Hi who are you?”
The man shuffled his feet, obviously not expecting to see him. “Oh I’m sorry I must have the wrong place. Do you know a Y/N?”
“Yeah this is the right place, dude. Why are you looking for her?” He squared his shoulders and stood up straight, intimidating the man even if he was slightly taller than him.
“I’m a. . . An old friend, I was in town and I wanted to uh. . . To talk to her. Catch up and what not. Where is she?” Not even his voice was intimidating - Klaus’ voice was more intimidating than this guys.
“She went to pick something up, should be back soon.” His voice was flat, he was racking his brain for information on a tall dude with an obnoxious beard and not so horrible hair - but kind of gaudy and strange tattoos. “What’s your name?”
“Oh uh, Terry.” He sounded nervous, and rightfully so.
Diego vaguely recalls the time where Y/N had gotten a little too drunk (and sad) and spilled all the information about this particular man, and he also remembers that he really just wanted to hurt the guy. Now he just wants to know what he wants. “Do you wanna come in and wait?”
Terry was not expecting that from him but nodded anyway. “So where’d she go?”
“She went to get coffee grounds. We ran out and someone can’t start the day without it.” He was talking about himself and Five and his girlfriend, but this dude didn’t need to know that. “She should be back soon.”
“Great.” He didn’t sound enthusiastic. “So this is a nice place, is it a two bedroom? Three bedroom? You her roommate?”
Diego held in a snort. “Of sorts. Technically it is a two bedroom.”
“Must be expensive to live here.”
“Joint income, bud. Two adults with well paying careers, we split everything.”
That wasn’t a lie, it really wasn’t.
Technically the apartment was a two bedroom, but the extra one was a guest room and it had a lofted space that was another extra bed (often for Klaus or Five, or the occasional guest). They did indeed split the bills, because that’s how things get paid. Diego wasn’t going to mention how he was Y/N’s boyfriend until this guy spit out his real intentions.
“Just two of you? That’s not awkward?”
Diego rolled his eyes, reaching down to pet one of their cats. “Why would it be awkward?”
He didn’t really know how to answer the question judging by the look on his face. “Uh, I’m not sure. So how has she been?”
Diego was ready to just deck the guy, he knew that this is the pest who wouldn’t stop contacting her and trying to be her friend (or, more than her friend by the way he talked to her) and he knew that this guy broke her heart and manipulated her and treated her like she didn’t matter, and truthfully he hated the guy for it. But that doesn’t mean he won’t take the chance to rub it in his face that Y/N was his girlfriend and they loved each other dearly.
“She’s been great, honestly. She’s having a great year.” He scratched the small cat behind his ears and grinned when it purred.
“Yeah that’s what I’ve heard, through mutual friends.” He stammered, looking around at the various pictures on the walls of their living room. “You guys seem well aquatinted, judging by these pictures.”
“We’ve known each other for a while now, I think we should be.” Diego settled on a stool they had sitting in their kitchen, watching the man carefully. He was staring at pictures Y/N of the time she and her friends went to Florida - looking intently at one of Diego’s favorites (she had on a little red bikini and she was sandy and she was beautiful - not to mention how hot she looked). This Terry dude was just getting on his nerves. “So how’d you meet her, how do you know Y/N?”
“Oh we went to high school together. I graduated before she did, though. Which caused some disconnect, admittedly. I haven’t seen her in forever, especially now that she lives here in the city.”
“She’s been a busy lady. She has a job and a life, sometimes she’s just too busy to go back to her past and deal with that. From what I know she didn’t particularly like high school, or anyone she dated at the time.” Diego was pushing a nerve because he really wanted this man to snap. “In fact I think she’d just rather forget about it completely.”
“Oh really? Do you often talk about her past and her past relationships?” Terry’s voice had gotten higher, and he sounded uncomfortable.
“Yeah, I specifically remember her talking about this one dude - maybe you’d know him - his name was like Tyler or Tom or something. She used to have awful commitment issues because of that dude.” Diego specifically remembered their first argument being about that, and that’s why she got drunk and cried to him about this idiot dude that’s in their living room right now. “Man, that guy is lucky he’s never met me.”
The sound of the door opening and closing made both of them look over. “Diego?”
“In here.”
She followed his voice and the smile on her face immediately dropped when she saw their guest. “Uh, hi?”
“We have a surprise guest with us this morning. An old friend who wants to catch up.” Diego said, raising his eyebrows at her in a way that she knew he knew exactly who this guy was, and she knew there was mischief in his eyes.
Y/N narrowed her eyes at Diego, setting the grocery bag on their kitchen island. “Since when are you in New York?”
“I just dropped by to say hello.”
“You live three states away, how or why would you just drop by to say hello?”
Diego looked at the man expectantly, a sense of pride filling in his chest when he saw how she was handling this.
Perhaps he was a little disappointed that he couldn’t just beat this guy up yet but who cares.
“I was in the area, Y/N, it’s not that deep.”
“Why would you be in the area when this particular area is in no way related to anything you do? How did you even find our address?”
Diego loved that tone of voice, not when it was used against him - but when she was defending herself? Ooo it got him hot.
“I asked around.”
“Who did you ask? And why would you think it’s okay to show up at someone’s apartment at 8 in the morning on a Saturday?” Now she was just annoyed. “You can’t get out of this hole you’re digging yourself so if you could just explain yourself now that’d be the smartest decision.”
She turned to look at Diego, smiling innocently. “Can you make coffee?”
“Yes I can.” He stood up and winked at her, letting her pout when he didn’t give her a kiss. “How much?”
“A lot, Five is coming over.” She turned back to look at the man in her living room who looked insanely out of place. “Explain.”
“Listen, baby, I miss you so much. I know I did so much wrong the first few times we dated but I’ve grown and I’ve changed and oh my god you have no idea how much I still love you, I want another chance.” With every word he said he got closer to her until he had a grip on the bottom of her elbows, pulling her in close despite the disgust on her face. “Plea-“
His whiney plea was cut short by a sharp knife cutting through his hoodie and pinning him to the nearest wall.
“Hands to yourself.”
“Hey what the hell man you could’ve killed me!”
“First off, if he wanted you dead, you never would’ve been allowed in this apartment. Second, do not call me baby.” Y/N rolled her eyes, pulling the knife out of the wall and walking to their kitchen. “Thanks for that.”
Diego looked at her and noticed her shaking, clasping her face in his hands. “I don’t like this guy.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead as the man walked up to them.
“Y/N-“
“Dude, how dumb are you?” Diego cut him off, this time without a knife. “You aren’t going to be getting back together with her because she’s my girlfriend. Why else would I be here at 7:45 in the fuckin morning in nothing but pajama clothes? That’s a boyfriend privilege. Letting you into our home? Boyfriend privilege. Belittling you to your face because you were a shitty boyfriend? That’s a boyfriend privilege for sure.”
Y/N slid out of his grasp and left the room to get his ringing phone, leaving the two alone.
“Hey! Uh uh, you keep your eyes on me. You ever look at her again and I will hurt you. You ever even think of trying to get her back after everything you’ve done and I will hurt you worse. You ever even think about her again and I’ll know, trust me.” Diego had never been so calm while sounding so angry. “I know people who can hunt you down to the ends of the earth and make you disappear and from what I know about you, not many people would care. You ever show up to our home again and you’re dead, you understand?”
The man nodded, nostrils flaring. “Can I at least say goodbye to her?”
“Get out.”
By the time his lovely girlfriend was back in the kitchen he had set out a cup of coffee made how she liked it. “Sorry I let him in.”
“Don’t be, this means he’ll stop contacting me.” She grinned, pulling him close and planting a kiss on his lips. “And by the way, do you know how insanely hot it is when you threaten people?”
He grinned, pulling her waist closer. “Enlighten me, please, baby.”
She smirked, holding his cheeks in her hands, stroking the scar that went across his right cheekbone. “You sound so strong and powerful. It’s honestly pretty sexy.”
He laughed, kissing her softly until she bit his bottom lip. “Someone is in a mood this morning.”
“I think we have time for a quickie before your siblings show up.” She suggested, giggling when he picked her up and headed towards their bedroom.
#diego hargreeves x reader#diego hargreeves#diego hargreeves imagine#klaus hargreeves x reader#klaus hargreeves imagine#klaus hargreeves#tua#the umbrella academy imagine#the umbrella academy#tua imagine#the umbrella academy x reader#luther hargreeves#vanya hargreeves#five hargreeves#allison hargreeves#ben hargreeves#pogo#grace hargreeves#reginald hargreeves#my writing
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Ranma 2/4
Part Two: Chapter 13 - 25
Unless someone comes up with a better name I’m sticking with this one
HOW tf is the principal crazier than before?!
Yup, spreading out the Kuno-Principal thing
Is Sasuke seriously an anime-only?!?
Like I said Ryoga needs to chill a little first
Main reason I don’t like Ukyo That scene where she blatantly states she’s fine with turning Ranma into something he’s not rather than helping him
(Ignoring the near constant amount of undermining his abilities)
“I’m gonna cheer him up” as she holds a sword! Why?!
Ranma you dummy, hug Akane!
I hate this demon/ghost cat
Shampoo, you manipulative bitch
Akane learns to swim like a normal person
The lifeguard in me can’t do it
The principal is background shenanigans
Totally forgot about the kid who wants to play video games and is “weak” bc of it
Definitely need to find a different reason tho
Lazy little shits are a pain
Also his mom is crap
Akane… why you be dumb?
Weird Happosai is Santa plot…
What is with the Excalibur meets lucky 1000 meets fairy godmother?
Good news is, with what I’ve done to Kuno’s understanding of Ranma’s curse Ranma knows Kuno wouldn’t give him that wish and calls it quits sooner
Someone just needs to explain Ranma’s really confusing sense of morality to me
Cuz it’s either on 110% or it’s nonexistent, now normally nonexistent is for Kuno but still
Look Ranma’s got ego problems but he ain’t stupid
No betting the Tendo Dojo at five!
On what planet is that a legal document?!?
Some1 tell me why Shampoo using Ranma as a stop ramp bugs me so bad
That mo when you can’t remember if the Hot Spring Challenge is when Ukyo met Shampoo in the anime…
I don’t think so…
Akane you made me need to google a word
That like never happens Ranma you idiot
So close but so far
So much more logic, thanks
I mean more insanity, but it explains why Ranma swapped clothes
Finally! Ranma apologizes
Jesus Christ someone would think I won the goddamn lotto with how loud I cheered when this happened
600% approve of this over what happened in the anime
Oof poor Ranma
Hahahaha in your face Shampoo, but I also think I know why Ranma chose it
Poor Ryoga
I KNEW this guy was coming I still hate it
YEET you can’t PAY ME to do this arc
Look, is it the fact that I had etiquette and dance classes as a child and everyone assumed this is what it was like? Probably.
It wasn’t so I won’t.
Any1 else notice how Nabiki is one of the few ppl that uses she/her when Ranma is in his cursed form no matter what?
Why does this bug me?
Akane, stop beating Ranma up, honestly
This is closer to abuse rather than teasing
*sighs*
Gotta work that out of the narrative, intentional or not
Every1 sayin she’s violent isn’t helping
Like I said really fucking morally GREY Nabiki
How grey can you go before you get black?
Let’s find out together
Can everyone PLEASE stop treating Ranma like an object?!
I literally can’t tell if Nabiki is fucking Aro or not…
STRESS
Why is this so hard?!
I hate seeing Akane cry
I know she’s playing Ranma like a kazoo, but the point still stands
WHY ARE YOU TWO SO DUMB?!
Nope, nevermind it’s just Ranma that’s a fuckin idiot I blame Genma
No, I’m not kidding
*sighs* I don’t condone Nabiki doing this in any way just for the record THAT’S not an apology Ranma!
This mess is totally your fault Nabiki
STRESS
am I intentionally pointing out where this work of fiction is stressing me out since I’m now online schooling and suffering for it? Yes, fuck off.
Actually, don’t.
But Fuck Covid19
Aww his hat’s back!
Why do I love his hat so much?
No, seriously Akane’s so cute!
Oooww tree
y’know the sec she realized what Ranma was doing Nabiki should’ve TOLD him!
Congrats Ranma ya got the wrong sis- I mean the right- but wrong- dammit y’know what I mean
Some1 give me a logical explanation for why Ranma goes on a date with a panda doodle, PLEASE
I do appreciate the epic battle background fight for the anime
Further proof that Happosai sucks
Manga name’s somehow less believable I think it’s the use of “snowman” rather than “yeti”
Did Soun just find out that Pchan is Ryoga, and say nothing?
Ooo, Imma commit arson
Remember when I said obey Physics and Medical, I meant it
Arson is wrong and I know this but “transgender bitch” crosses the line
I will do it
Shampoo is a fucking yandere psycho
Just sayin “we’ll see who can get him first”
honestly, any other group and I’d be annoyed, but these four can’t work together for shit I
’m still pissed at Taro, but he can kill Happosai, please
I can’t tell if Shampoo, Mousse and Ryoga are being purposefully obtuse or not
I just reread their names I know the answer to at least two of them
Idk how I feel about Kuno-amnesia we’ll see
yep, Kuno gives me the creeps w or w/out his memories
kinda wish this was anime
jesus christ, poor Ranma
press f to pay respects for Ranma’s stomach
InstaRegret
Also Ukyo’s assumption that some1 can make Ranma doing anythin he doesn’t want to is crap
Like HELLO! Wake up moron!
Nabiki, I mean this in the nicest way possible, shut the fuck up
You’re making it worse
Also TALK to each other you ding dongs!
OH RIGHT! I almost forgot about the biggest fucking insult that Ukyo said of her own freewill!
It also proves that she doesn’t know Ranma as a person AT ALL!
It’s not a pick one or the other kind of thing
The fact that she thinks Ranma would accept that is insulting
The fact that she thinks that is insulting and makes me hate the patriarchy
Again, treating him like a prize than a person
*tries not scream, sighs*
Nabiki, you’re the cause of at least 30% of the stress I get from this
You having feelings ain’t the fucking problem here Ukyo, you not acknowledging Ranma’s is
I hate fake criers, anyone who does this I hate you
Always let others in on your plans, kids
When’s every1 gonna realize Ranma’s “wishy-washy” cuz no one’s ever committed to HIM before?
This episode confused me, I’m prepared to be MORE confused
Less confused, I’m surprised
Gonsunkugi, you creep
There is SO much wrong with this
*shudders*
WHAT?!
Y’know I didn’t think Gosunkugi could surprise me, I was wrong
Happosai still sucks unfortunately for all of us he’s now weird on top of it
I love how much Ranma needs to be kicked in the teeth to get any character development out of him
Ryoga is my #1 choice for it, always
Ranma… why are you like this?
Genma, emotional range of a goddamn wall
I am jealous of Ranma’s brain
I could be SO mean with the Shishihokodan
Also, are they implying that Ryoga has depression?
Gimme Ranma’s brain
I won’t ask for his confidence cuz that’s impossible but I want his brain
In Akane’s defense, given what she knows she couldn’t’ve known how badly that would affect Ryoga
I ain’t gonna say “leave Shampoo” cuz that’s cruel
I like the “turn into a Cat” rather than the “Can’t Cross” & the use of New Year’s rather than random but this still brings around the fact that she doesn’t LISTEN to him
Mousse you’re NOT helping in fact you’re actively making it worse did you miss when he said blatantly “I don’t wanna”
oh, sure, NOW you’re ok with it
ugh Mousse, you have a brain, I’ve SEEN you use it. Do so now.
This entire episode weirded me out
IDK if it’s the age-dff or the fact that he was makin it up and somehow everyone thought this was okay …
I won’t YEET it but MASSIVELY change
heheheh
Light bulb
NOPE I’m keeping this surprise to myself
it was a rather sweet end tho
Oh, this episode is a mess and a half, honestly
Also Nabiki, congrats you’ve literally enabled a stalker S
o many laws are broken here
okay, so Kodachi not being in on Ranma’s secret after so long makes sense purely because she doesn’t go to their school
however, with what i’ve done to make Kuno marginally less dumb it makes a little bit less sense…
I literally hate Kuno with what I’ve done to his logic of Ranma’s transformation, but that’s the point Kodachi… how do I handle you… oh, duh!
Ok, so Kodachi is now also terrible
I’m trying to figure out where this is in the plot since there is ZERO
Ok, there’s a LINE, Nabiki
This one would be touching, if it didn’t end the way it does
TALK gentlemen!
It won’t kill you
Fuck a parent that says they’re not your parent for no reason, EVER
I am going to make this hurt
Also gonna take out Genma’s fail at stealth
Remember I said Akane’s going to learn to cook
heheheh
sorry, I just love this idea
Oh this is SO against the rules it’s not even funny
tiny adjustment so they actually have quasi-competent referees
Crazy wants crazy?I won’t stop ‘em
I reiterate: CHEATING!
I am aware that the “ending” apparently sets them back to the start in terms of their relationship but I swear to God if they pretend shit like this didn’t happen I will scream
Someone ships something other than Akane x Ranma PLEASE explain why/how
don’t ship bash but I would insight when you explain
STICK TO CANON
please trust me, I’m a multi/poly/crack shipper
(for frame of reference to a bnha I ship DabiHawks)
I understand the appeal of Fanon
however, I would like to stick to Canon here
so no Fanon
Canon Only
Fully love that high kick
Genma shows Ranma’s secret here, but they already know… so… I shall find out
Ooo, you’re not getting out of this Ranma
Do you know how tempting it is for Akane to at least tell Ranma she’s a girl- oh wait gendered sports… right…
Ranma…
if you didn’t realize it was Akane when she hit you for calling her klutzy I can’t help you
I want to commit arson at some of the comments…
but can confirm that these are HS boys
Doesn’t mean I gotta like it
I was wondering how long I was going to have to wait before tearing into Nodoka
FINALLY
Took me WAY too long to remember that Nodoka calling Ranko tomboyish is due to how he speaks in Japanese
I’ll need to figure that out since… English
Can I explode on Genma’s choice to take Ranma at TWO?!
Can I further explode on both of them for making a TWO YEAR OLD “sign” a Seppuku Pledge?!
I hate both of them, honest
ALSO communication!
Genma! Just fucking TELL HIM!
Making her transphobic is SO tempting
I don’t mean in a “i hate you” way I mean in a “I sheltered my whole life” way
It’s still bad, and painful, but she can easily learn from that
Or be worse, this could go 2 ways
I feel so bad for Akane for this entire conversation
Also poor Ranma like ouch…
Awkward
I’m going to make this hurt something fierce
Slight change since I’m hoping Ranma isn’t as “peak fight or flight” by this point
Genma don’t be an asshole for FIVE MINUTES
Please, that’s all I want
If she doesn’t learn the truth before the end I will make a bad decision
Really, I will
Don’t kill Genma, you can’t
Akane, don’t say like you wouldn’t… honestly
Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, honestly, just look the other way Ranma
*sigh*
Ranma…
See, this kind of crap here is why I really don’t like Cologne
any other day Akane’d be right
oof, that means he self aware that girls flock to him
I’m quite frustrated by that if I’m honest
Ranma is clueless about all the wrong things
I love him but God I wanna punch him sometimes
Why is there a swing from the ceiling?!
I had a jolt from the way they set that panel up, thanks
Are you trying to kill me?!
Thank you Cologne, now fuck off
Oh thank God, at least he learned
This is nonanime stuff so I have no clue what’s happening but anything to make Happosai miserable
I’m enjoying this immensely
ugh, “think of it as a compliment” ghost
Eat me
okay, yeah, as much as I want him dead, that’s worse
I’m glad he’s not a one-and-done character
I will forever ONLY call him Taro when it is NonDialogue
Wait Saffron as in big-bad Saffron?
I literally only know pieces of the end so I’m just pulling from what I know
Lol, wait… was that soldier Anime only too?
I almost liked you there for a sec Taro
Now I’m pissed again
bravo
Oh, YIKES
… if Ranma falls into the Spring of Drowned Twins would he split?
I’m not going to DO IT, obviously!
I’m just curious okay…
that answers that… and kills anyone other than Ranma’s plan to turn back to normal I hope everyone is aware of that
oof
Since when is there a castle on an island in Japan
tis just a scratch, I’ll admit that was funny
Ranma… your stomach gets you in so many problems
ok, that was wholesome
I approve
Okay, so my understanding is that Mrs. Tendo got sick, so I can understand the reactions to Kasumi
BUT I still find it odd because… well… anyone in my house gets sick and you mostly can’t even tell I mean, minus a worse attitude and a mask, other than that though, nope we keep ‘er movin’
I’m moving this section sooner EVEN IF IT KILLS ME!
I like her mom’s cookbook tho
I could make a Ranma x Ryoga joke here, but I won’t
I also won’t make a Ranma x Ryoga joke chapter cuz I’m nice like that
Actually I might have no choice
I’m FINE just dying
Help
my multishipper heart is dying here
I love this
InstaRegret for THREE people
If nothing else, I’m impressed
(well three once Ranma’s back to normal)
I need help
Fangirling/Fanboying/Fanpeopling is dangerous folks, remember that
Poor Ryoga
Though I too feel that right now like where do I look because everything coming in at mach 6
I’m changing that one scene tho cuz I can’t justify the aftermath without it
This… is… weird to say the least
I feel like I should just expect anything with Gosunkugi remotely involved to be weird at this point
okay, not as weird as I expected
glad it was short tho
I think I am officially out of anime terf
YAY, new content!
This is why I ask about any ship that isn’t Ranma x Akane
Also, names?
That- that- that can’t...
I DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW THAT!
EWWW
gross
WHY?!?!!
also, biology, that’s not how that works!!
You two ARE idiots
Ryoga you die I’ll kill you
Well… that hurt to see so quick…
Ranma, get up!
I officially hate this Herb guy
ok, so if you put HOT water in the ladle do you stay that way forever?
Alright! Way to go Ryoga!
I need to stop shipping Rivals it’s bad for my health
fucking eat it you dick!
Poor Akane
nevermind, Ranma you idiot
awwwww
ok, so that whole no more Anime-content… I was wrong, and I admit that, but still
I’m just thinking of my bff when they realize she’s an adult cuz, yeah, she’s like that too
except like physically an adult unlike tiny-Hinako
oh MY GOD Ukyo you’re driving me up the goddamn wall I swear!
THANK YOU AKANE!
“You’re all Ranma’s fiancées” when only one of them actually is
GIANT SIGH OF ANNOYANCE
Ranma, learn to communicate, PLEASE!
Okay… so is this where they figured it out or are some ppl still in the dark?
TIMELINE!!
Honestly, mood Ranma, mood
This entire plot line confuses me if I’m being totally honest
I mean I live for the Akane focus, but there are so many better ways to do this
#ranma ½#ranma 1/2#ranma saotome#ranma#akane tendo#nabiki tendo#kasumi tendo#soun tendo#genma saotome#nodoka saotome#tatewaki kuno#kodachi kuno#full series au#bc I know no restraint#I'm doing this to distract from stress shut up#don't judge me#COVID19 binge watch
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@dreadful-shroud continued from here
Huh. When did Danny grow an extra arm, Jonas wondered as he let his head drop against Danny's shoulder.
He couldn't say he remembered much of anything after that as his brain sort of took a hike off into candy gumdrop land for a while or at least that's what it looked like with all the bright colors swirling around his eyes. Or maybe those were the Vegas lights passing overhead?
Things got sort of muddled for a while. Time might have passed. Or maybe he just dreamed it did. Jonas just knew he felt tired and he really wanted to sleep but someone kept poking him and annoying him and he thought for a while it was Danny but no that was impossible. He'd just stood out in the desert a few minutes ago digging down into the sand until he found Danny's remains that were wrapped up in a black shroud for some reason. Danny was dead.
" If that's what you're thinking you're right you were always right and you just didn't want to believe it. Let him rot. He's a murderer, " advised the purple Gila monster who rode by on a little unicycle. Jonas frowned at it.
" Look mind your fuckin' business and tell...Wile E. Coyote over there I'm not paying him for the donuts..." Jonas mumbled grumpily.
There were six of the Gila monsters around him now riding in a circle and honking little clown horns. " How can you love a murderer? How can you love a murderer? " they taunted him.
" I-I...look. I fall in love with people stupid easy because I'm messed up. It's ok anyways Danny just wanted a fuckbuddy I can be that I'll take what's given to me. I mean yeah I probably did love him I guess? But he's dead now anyways so what does it matter? " Jonas muttered. " What do you know anyways you're just a bunch of dumb little Gila monsters...urk! "
A knife pierced through his chest leaking blood. A half-rotted Danny grinned at him.
" You're an idiot you know that? " he said as he casually extracted Jonas's heart and examined it. Weird, Danny spoke in Jonas' voice. Whatever....symbolic shit that meant.
" Yeah I know I'm an idiot. That's why you got my heart speared on that knife of yours, " Jonas replied dispassionately, watching his own heart beating erratically on the point of the knife. " Take care of it, ok? I'm gonna die now guess I'll see you soon, Danny..."
He waved and fell backwards into silence and darkness for a while until someone started poking at him again. God couldn't he just be dead in peace?
#jonas copperhart#danny johnson#danny; eldritch verse#(I have no idea where that hallucination came from but it was fun to write)
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[REDACTED] be complaining reg. the reactions of having "placed the cultist island Fortuna off the coast of Florida" while having the gall of "It’s the story & the way it’s told that should fucking matter" & "Who cares? It’s fictional geography, you idiots." Feels a bit like failing World-Building 101. I mean, Red Grave based on London would also be a callback to Dante's early concept of being a Brit.
Someone already sent me the whole post of hers that I’m pretty sure you’re referring to lmao. I’m in a particularly cunty but pleasant mood rn, and analysis is kind of my thing, so lets’s break it down, shall we?
Maybe someone can send this her way and… learn that tiny little brain of hers a thing. 😉
It’s fictional geography called world building, you idiots Karen after the cut:
‘I love how a number of shitheels have screeched amongst themselves on this hellsite about how I had placed the cultist island Fortuna off the coast of Florida or somewhere around the Gulf US states (re: the fanfic & project link in my header), whining that it should’ve been in Europe, namely Italy.’
An admission to stalking profiles is not exactly the best way to start a self-righteous rant or advertise your… magnum opus, but go off, I guess.
‘Not only that, but they whined about “plotholes and inconsistencies” without elaborating on what the latter are. The asshole who made the rant was annoyed when I used a poem as a spell in the story (“if I heard that, I’d turn off my PS4.”), but I’m sure she didn’t bitch about the cutscene before the last Agnus boss fight in DMC4.’
Like the movie The Room (2003), it’s just easier to say “all of it” is bad because “all of it” contains plotholes and is inconsistent in tone, has terrible half-baked ideas and plot threads that remain unresolved and/or do nothing to further the plot, is rife with poor + inconsistent characterization, has a lack of any knowledge how the medium it exists in is made, and in general makes me wonder how much pottery enamel you’ve been huffing to think any of this was a good idea. Howeverrrr, in contrast to you, Tommy Wiseau is kind of odd and weirdly charming both in general and about his terrible movie — he’s found glory and success in its terribleness. You, in contrast, remain a miserable cunt with delusions of grandeur.
Dante and Agnus’ Shakespeare bit is actually a pretty well known trope called Ham-to-Ham Combat. Dante and Agnus are both ridiculous Large Hams in DMC4, and when two Large Hams meet, in general, they are likely gonna try to ‘out-over dramatic’ each other. This can lead to a scene becoming either really funny or really corny (or both) really fast. If things go too far — and they do, in this case — the scene can become a Hormel Event Horizon.
‘…but they LOVE the plotholes & inconsistencies if Capcom makes the latter, and writes a terrible story! And Crapcom’s canon for DMC is as straight as a paperclip or a dog’s hind leg. Hypocritical pricks.’
Subjective opinion is not, and never will be, objective fact. People are, as of when I checked again in the last ~5 minutes or so, absolutely able to enjoy whatever media they want regardless of what the general consensus on the quality of that media is.
As an example, I enjoy The Room (2003) despite its terribleness and it never fails to make me laugh, while your magnum opus makes me want to huff pottery enamel so the pain will stop despite you thinking it is the work of an idiot savant.
‘They were also mad that I wrote Dante as a wiseguy who is a little more low-key about it due to the circumstances— instead of being a pathetic manchild airhead that tries too hard.’
You didn’t write Dante.
You wrote Reboot!Donte — a fucking terribly out of character version of him, at that.
‘I was primarily concerned about moving the story along. I didn’t care about where a fictional island is supposed to go.’
You literally had one (1) job, Karen.
‘…Meanwhile, not a single character in DMC4 had an Italian accent, so uh, why should I give a flying fuck where I put it?’
Haven’t you been like… shitting on the DMC staff… for terrible writing… this enti— You know what? You’re obvs way too dumb to notice that contradiction, so I’ll let it slide.
Just… a word of advice, if I may? Don’t ever watch dub TV shows. That last brain cell would fuckin’ just burst all over your carpet.
(Actually, don’t watch subtitled shows either. An extremely popular anime that was set in Italy just wrapped and all the characters — le gasp! — spoke fucking Japanese. You would shit.)
‘I wasn’t paid to write any of what I wrote, but be my guest & send a PM if you want to throw money at me. By all means, do that.’
Oh, thank fuck, because they would have been ripped off, big time.
[ btw, you sound p. jealous of people that write/do creative work/commissions for ko-fi/payment tho. Not a good look tbbh. If it’s any consolation, though, I don’t get paid for making fun of you and/or analyzing your dumb bullshit, either. :( ]
‘The pricks at Capcom didn’t even bother giving us a proper DMC4 and it was a half-assed game, with the latter half being hasty filler material. The “special edition” they coughed up in 2015 was just glorified overpriced DLC.’
Ya know, you gotta be pretty far up your own ass to think this much of your opinion. And I’m saying this as a person that’s pretty far up her own ass like 85% of the time.
‘And another thing, Redgrave City in DMC5 seems to be in England, yet no survivors speak with English accents or slang/dialects.’
Pretty sure no survivors had speaking roles.
If you played the game you’d know this.
‘Meanwhile, Dante and Vergil had lived there when they were kids (until age 8), but they both have ordinary American or Canadian accents. Furthermore, how did the twins make it to the USA or Canada? According to the little booklet in the DMC1 game case, Dante’s office is in modern America.’
You know that invoking the imagery of a specific place without naming your location is normal and standard practice, right? Overwatch even does this (For Ex: Byōdō-in (平等院), Uji, Kyoto Prefecture, Japan is the inspiration for Hanamura, Château de Duingt, Duingt, France for Château Guillard, etc.)
Furthermore, you know the original DMC was a rejected first draft of Resident Evil 4, right? This is what retcon is for. You at least know what retcon is, right?
‘…That information isn’t very important, but I’m bringing it up to illustrate a point that being a fucking pedant about geography in a fantasy game is idiotic, even if the setting is akin to modern Earth.’
So is freaking the fuck out and sending death threats over a fantasy game but you didn’t let that stop you either lmfao.
It’s actually super important to establish your scenery and the way your world operates, especially in a written work in which readers are dependent on your vision and your descriptions, and if you were a decent writer, you’d know this.
‘It’s the story & the way it’s told that should fucking matter.’
YOU HAD ONE (1) JOB, KAREN.
‘What US states are the Arklay Mountains located in?’
General description puts them in the U.S. Midwest. Raccoon City itself is stated to have a population of ~100,000 at the time of outbreak, and the only city in the Midwest that matches that population in 1998 is Springfield, Missouri, with a pop. of ~110,000.
Springfield is on the Springfield Plateau of the Ozarks region of SW Missouri. So they’re part of the Ozark Mountains.
This all took less than ~3 minutes to google, btw.
‘Where is “Zanzibar Land?”’
I actually just wrote a comprehensive answer to an ask a few weeks ago about this. It’s actually stated to be in Tselinoyarsk (Целиноярск), the (fictional) area of the former USSR in which Big Boss carried out the Virtuous Mission/Operation Snake Eater in 1964. Tselinoyarsk itself is heavily implied to consist of parts of Kyrgyzstan and/or Tajikistan. If you played MGS3 you’d know how important the setting and the varied environments/climates are to the game mechan-
oh yeah wait you believe in segregation of story and gameplay mechanics. I forget you’re completely tone deaf sometimes lmao.
How far is ‘Salem’s Lot or Derry from Bangor? Who cares?’
Stephen King does, quite a bit. He even has a map on his website of ‘his’ fictional version of Maine:
My disappointment is immeasurable, Karen.
#anonymous#replies#porg drama#derelict-stranger#derelict stranger#dmc#devil may cry#dmc5#devil may cry 5#dante#dmc dante#dmc fanfiction#dmc meta#writing#ao3
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she-ra 4
the reason i stopped watching she-ra is the same reason i stopped watching the dragon prince.
the narrative doesn’t take the situation seriously. instead of leaning into the anguish of war and violence (atla, teen titans) - they make light of it. EVEN when the characters’ guardians are KILLED!!
when Angella died and they spent 2 seconds on Glimmer’s grief at the end of season 3 i was like......actually fuck this. HOW can i take any of these stakes seriously when they insist on brushing them off???
anyway just had to complain about that - especially because the start of the first ep of 4 is them joking AGAIN about something as grim as Glimmer now carrying all the responsibilities of her mother - who may i remind you IS DEAD
but catradora became canon apparently so now i have to struggle through
her aunt, her mother’s sister, is fuckin, joking about cakes, her friends are laughing at the joke. COME ON! how goddamn unrealistic and insensitive. EVEN if they wanna make a point of it - it’s silly! because the narrative PARTICIPATES in making light of the situation. if it was just the characters it would be less jarring
‘we’ll make sure this day is perfect’ WHAT? how could it EVER BE IF HER MOTHER IS FUCKING DEAD????????? AND THAT”S THE ONLY REASON SHE’S QUEEN????? ‘must be hard’ YEAH IT’S HARD - IN FACT IMPOSSIBLE. instead of pretending to be happy maybe you can show some genuine sensitivity. these people are so crazily emotionally underdeveloped my god. what age are they supposed to be? 16? 17? The problem that She-ra has (just like the dragon prince) is that there are no relevant adults. Oh sure there’s a Queen, and some Soldiers, and a Sorceress. But there isn’t a single relevant competent adult around who is concerned with running a bureaucracy or the emotional stability of children
I do like how Catra has overcome her fear of Hordak. but i think i remember being fuckin furious at her for almost destroying the whole world and hurting Scorpia and betraying Entrapta just to spite Adora. vaguely.
the rebellions problem is that they’re all extremely stupid himbos. like literally, in the whole story, only catra and shadowweaver have any smarts, while glimmer gains the ability to think during full moons on wednesdays. meanwhile everybodys is a slave to their emotions - which destroys any brain cells that shadowweaver or catra (or angella or anyone) might have managed. they could literally have killed hordak the entire time but just let him order them around because they’re so hot for acknowledgement
I’m glad Glimmer reflects my frustrations now hahahahaah
‘everyone is already acting like she doesn’t matter’ - yeah dudes, you fucking insensitive bastards
‘im supposed to take care of you glimmer’ - but unfortunately i have the emotional intelligence of a crab! FUCK!
this is another thing about this show that makes me groan. sappy quick resolutions of emotional turmoil through re-affirming the fuckin power of friendship in the first episode of the season.
also couldn’t Adora have done this she-ra stuff from the very beginning
that was badass.....miss glimmer’s other hair though. ok the emotions at that hologram and statue though...
the coolest part of she-ra for me is finding out more how the ancient systems all fit into Etheria and the She-Ras and Hordak Prime etc.
THIS IS A GOOD SPEECH. love this badass.
love Hordak getting put in his place. Love Catra realising she has power - love Hordak reaping what he sows. its unfortunate that she’s a shitty brat who JUST can’t get over her inferiority complex
if i could endlessly teleport i would do what glimmer does
also, glimmer was willing to fuckin murder catra before and she DEFINITELY will be now lol. love that for her.
why did they only introduce adora learning to transform her sword NOW ahahaha, theyve had SO MANY SCENES in which she doesnt have it and then suddenly does - and then its gone again
scorpia is the funniest and most likeable person in the whole show
they really suddenly can’t take five people on with she ra and fuckin huntara on their side??
i remember that little sadistic righteous twist in my stomach when Adora finally was like: FUCK!!!!!! YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! Catra!!!!!!! and the stupid idiot got it
FINALLY A GLANCE AT THE PEOPLE OF ETHERIA AGAIN! i love the party sequences in this!!! the people of etheria are so beautiful! nobody ever comments on the main characters all looking plain human in contrast....
‘and i fell for it!’ yeah cos you DUMB AS BRICKS ADORA
so first they quietly take out the guards....and then literally break open the door hahaahahahahaaha
‘we forgot the bots regenerate’ - yeah cos you DUMB AS BRICKS ADORA
i just dont understand why they insist on making the main characters so DUMB ahahahahaah
Adora and Catra are great at hitting where it hurts. the difference between them is that Catra KNOWS that she’s hurting Adora - she does it deliberately.
wow that could be some pretty angsty stuff constantly leaving her to struggle on the floor while painfully electrocuted. Catra has also moved to kill Adora straight up so many times. im sure she really wants to (but it would destroy her later). But now, Adora swept something at Catra that might have actually killed her. I get Catra though, I would’t want to get beaten by some blonde, blue-eyed, glowing golden kid who always gets to win and do better. this is truly the first time Adora has moved to kill Catra......
does flatterina not have parents who’d be like: uhhhhh maybe leave the soldiering for a couple more years?
catra truly burning all her bridges. hahaha. it’s so satisfying to see her use her anger and power to truly destroy herself - because of guilt!
no other villagers were like - HMMMMMMM this random new kid is here? weird..... i didnt see that coming either.
Adora doesn’t think about what Catra might have even been doing there - cos she’s DUMB AS BRICKS
the interesting thing about this show is that they’re setting up a dichotomy. they’re treating war like a high-stakes game because they have the good side adhere to an aesthetic of ....magic. they will not make the two sides equivalent in any way - which makes questions of morality moot. the show is purely an emotional drama. the horde is an army of brainwashed kids in an industrial wasteland - they fight with tech and guns. but the good guys cannot fight with an army or tech, they fight with cleverness and magic. they’re called the ‘rebellion’ - they HAVE to be underdogs because they have to follow the script of good - even though what’s really going on is war, not a rebellion. That’s why they have a single strike team that do ‘missions’. They are presented as FUNDAMENTALLY different - on the level of identity which they cannot change lest they destroy themselves - and in that way the good guys can never become the bad guys. it is ALMOST meta. think they’re gonna do something with that at one point. i hope
also Netossa has such a super cool design.
‘everyone knows you’re needed in bright moon’ - uh. really? i dont know. some random person i’ve never seen before demands you go to meetings. so? is that important? why?
spinerella can literally FLY???????? why has she been in the background this whole time??? hahahaha military inefficiency.
there was an explosion that ripped trees apart - but bo’s alive!! honesty why didn’t they try explosive suicide bots before. they’re very lucky he was still alive to heal
‘could they be tracking she-ra?’ WHAT? isn’t the obvious suggestion - A SPY???? they just assume that the general is right hahahahaa.
i love how double trouble is so meta.
actually, why wasn’t glimmer trained as a sorcerer anyway?
glimmer is upset about her growing magic plants but not her having magic ingredients
why do they present good strategic thinking (for once) as evil influence from shadowweaver
what a fuckin badass. honestly - glad that this show finally utilised glimmer’s extremely op powers like they should be. honestly, she’s much more powerful than She-Ra.
that bit with spinerella was so contrived jfc.
‘by using me as a decoy’ adora says, pissed off. uhhhh YOU went off on your own to get smushed by fuckin bots adora. Glimmer didn’t do that to you. she just used your stupidity.
glimmer really left catra to die. hahahahaa
i like adora best when she’s on her own and being a dork
they definitely managed to foreshadow that Light Hope was evil but im glad they picked up the thread now
am i seeing this wrong or did scorpia have two mums??? but also. where the fuck are they
lolololololol because everybodys dumb as bricks and emotionally volatile they’re incredibly easy to manipulate
‘i cant risk hitting flatterina’ pffft - ALL YOUR ARROWS ARE NON-LETHAL BO. ugh i cant deal with these contrived stakes
I LOVE THIS BADASS EFFICIENT HARDCORE GLIMMER
they’re really gonna spin it like this is a bad development? fuck off. finally some grit.
‘you took things way too far’ - but she got results! dumb as bricks adora
(this may seem harsh but adora is DUMB shes so fucking DUMB!!!! and she has many good qualities (such as an almost innate sense of morality) but goddamn. i guess its good to sometimes have a show about all around dumb characters. i mean, it’s not unrealistic per se, it’s just.....weird.)
the interesting thing about these characters is that you can SEE every single one of them struggling with cognitive dissonance. thats the big story of this show. they see the world a certain way - and then when something challenges that, they fight to the death to destroy or deny or ignore that new information - to everybody’s detriment. and they can’t back down because every step they’ve taken - would turn to sins they can’t live with. it’s interesting and its also a kind of conflict that‘s frustrating if not resolved at SOME point. thats why i love this season for its characters going off the rails. adora aiming to kill catra, catra destroying her last relationships, glimmer growing more and more militant.
they’re all acting like teens - that is - highly volatile - unable to keep from provoking others or be provoked - but they ARE teens.
‘catra doesn’t care. she’ll hurt people to get her way (implied: EVEN people on her side)’ - we must remember that Scorpia was entirely fine with KILLING the trio (it was Catra that wasn’t at the time).
‘you’re a bad friend’ OH OUCH. Catra - who’s always been treated as a whipping girl by those in power - does the same to those she is in power over. But on some level she doesn’t WANT to be that. she’s just always always been rejected and take advantage of and lashed out at and abandoned by the people she considered important (shadowweaver ---- doing the same to catra that was done to her is so goddamn....it’s the story of this show. the simplicity and banality of damaging and hurting others and that carrying over to harm even more people - is the story of this show and it’s immeasurably frustrating and REALISTIC)
she still flinches at Hordak’s lashing out. but she imprints on him the exact lesson she’s trying to school herself in. If you don’t need anybody - you don’t want anyone - if nobody matters but the mission and winning - then you can’t be hurt. she wants to prove her worth - but she doesn’t realise that inherently means that she’s putting somebody in power over her - again and again and again.
mermista coming in clutch with the braincells: there’s a spy! I love how this is played as completely implausible and just Mermista nonsense (who i love learning about) - while it’s so obviously true/
i actually love Adora when she’s being serious and heroic, or a huge dork. and she has the wit to RECOGNISE good ideas. but i just don’t understand why Adora is being big b about being used as a distraction. like....why?
i love that the underside of Mermista’s sneaker has a figure. but why the fuck is a common soldier with them (flatterina) and do they really think they can interrogate the whole castle filled with some shitty guards and...what - the guerilla troops they sometimes employ? where do they even live? ah in a tent city. ok
why is the GENERAL in front line combat WITHOUT SOLDIERS???? oh wait. glimmer did that too when she was general. lolololol
i understand why Adora doesn’t trust Shadowweaver and doesn’t want her around most of all - and Glimmer getting buddy buddy with her is hurtful. but...it’s not helpful to needle glimmer about it. but dismissing the guards around shadowweaver however? stupid of Glimmer. unnecessary. ‘what has she done but help us?’ - uhhhh she kidnapped you, corrupted your powers, almost wiped Adora’s mind. I wish Adora had summed up those things instead of leaving them implied.
so perfuma and mermista come across inconsistencies in the stories - but then. forget about it? i just...... UGGHGHGHGHGHGHGH. people really aren’t this dumb are they? they’re just NOT.
‘no more secrets and doing things without us’ - that was a good speech. but like, glimmer is right - she’s surrounded by INCOMPETENT IDIOTS lolololol. but good leadership is corralling idiots, Glimmer. not going off on your own. but she’s already planted the bait about the dining room.
‘we were the only ones who knew about the plan to take back dril’ ---- THEN WHY DID YOU INTERROGATE OTHER PEOPLE AHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHA
‘stop questioning my choices, stop whining about being a decoy’ YEAH FUCKIN HELL ADORA STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKING SHIT. IS THIS REALLY ‘TAKING CARE OF GLIMMER’????
‘all you do is question my authority, it’s exhausting.’ yeah god...it really is. adora needs to fucking BACK! OFF! but im loving these fights because it brings out the grievances. Adora is right to be worried about Glimmer no longer including her in her decisions. and she makes a good point that that’s bad. She makes a good point that Shadowweaver cannot be trusted. And Glimmer makes zero good points - except that it’s been hard for her and has garnered 0.1% understanding from the people around her. Oh they were working together. BUT those were definitely real grievances.
GLIMMER CAN ALREADY DO A CONTAINMENT SPELL LIKE THAT??? godDAMN. castapella completely flunked her responsibilities to Glimmer but shadowweaver did NOT.
hmmm so Solinius was....destroyed. but like, did the people die? like....the people? that’s the important bit isn’t it? i mean, they were under the sea right?
i suppose the problem i also have is that this show will NOT hurry up. normally i love filler stuff but ...the characters are too.....cheery. too flat. their quirks are fun and funny until they’re literally character flaws.
are the horde just literally attacking civilians? jezus. the war crimes. how did shadowweaver ever expect to trick Adora when she was released into the field?
‘you can’t just keep going off on your own!’ - SHE LITERALLY SAVED THE WHOLE FUCKING TOWN. SHE’S THE QUEEN! EVERYBODY SHOULD LISTEN TO HER! lolololol
the problem with Adora’s points is that everything about their dynamics are always so nebulous. why cant glimmer keep showing up to help out? WHY??? she’s the most capable fucking soldier in the field! she’s supposed to have full fucking authority! like, Adora isn’t in the right here. the problem is that her needling is only a symptom of her worries - which is that Glimmer doesn’t trust her any more. but the needling does NOTHING but make her seem like an idiot
i do love this trope reversal here - Seahawk deliberately damselling them to let the princesses save the boys? pffft
love catra getting the consequences for her actions regarding Scorpia. You can’t keep lashing out at people and expect them to stay my dear cat.....
oooohhh Glimmer.... you’re treading close to very hurtful territory. Blaming Adora for the Rebellion failing? for things she couldn’t do anything about? stupid.
really?? you’re really gonna fucking fight-resolution BLOCK ME? are you FUCKING kidding me? edging me for the whole GODDAMN SEASON??? and finally Adora cries at Glimmer going over the line???? fuckin I HATE the narrative decisions in this stupid show I FUCKING HATE THEM FUCK THESE WRITERS GOD FUKCING DAMMIT!!! this has been the whole GODDAMN SHOW!!!!!! ARGHGHGHGHGHGH
i’ve been waiting for a fucking resolution for Adora and Catra the whole! goddamn! SHOW! NOTHING! else matters! you do the exact same for glimmer and adora and now you let it fester again??? because of some no-stakes BULLSHIT? just give me the fucking godddamn PAYOFF for watching these kids be IDIOTS.
this fight on the boat is COOL and really wonderfully animated
really? Glimmer’s response to Adora being hurt and not wanting to be TOUCHED is to be angry herself? what a fucking IDIOT. god i can’t stand this. I CAN’T STAND IT
is this how people act? do they never take a moment to breathe and think and reflect and realise their priorities and take a step back and fucking apologise?
jezus FUCKING! CHRIST!
‘no matter what glimmer thinks of me’ oh that HURTED. oh damn. that’s so relatable. it’s a way to run, it’s a way to internalise the hurt and then prove the things that hurt wrong. the one that hurt you
I know Bo is supposed to be the emotionally intelligent one but he’s also too soft. He should go up to his friends individually and ask them the sharp questions. not - ‘communicate more positively’.
I just like Adora so much better when she’s alone. Her friendships’ positive moments are always so sappy or so....like over-exaggerated, the negative moments always so fucking annoying. Alone, Adora is generally driven, tragic, and cool. the problem is perhaps that i don’t care for the constant fucking drama
god i LOVE Mara so much - she’s so beautiful. and i LOVE learning more about the Old Ones. So they were trying to study Ehteria’s magic.... but then Bright Moon and the princesses were already here. The Magic-Like systems of the Old Ones are pure tech.
wow! even Mara’s transformation is way cooler.
so why was the first one’s tech (she ra) responsive to the magic? why does Raz know about She-Ra? when she ra is first ones tech????
WAIT ONE SECOND. She-Ra is ‘magic’ ??? it’s the SWORD that’s the first one’s tech! She-Ra is Etheria’s magic ! but how if the First Ones chose Mara. Did they steal She-Ra from Etheria?
so what im getting is that. the Old Ones colonised Etheria. Etheria has magic, and when Mara was chosen they made that girl an elite soldier - giving her a first one’s tech sword so she could ‘control’ Etheria’s magic. Then Mara was told to study the magic of Etheria - the ship implying that she’d not been on the planet before. then they created a Heart of Etheria project - which will probably turn the magic into a weapon. this was going to be used against Hordak Prime, im sure. I mean, Mara saved Etheria, but she did doom the rest of the universe to...extinction.... like, judging from Hordak’s strategy, Hordak Prime just literally exterminates planets and repopulates them with his clones....
But why would the planet choose a girl from amongst the colonisers - twice?
OOOHHH that anguished scream. i love anguished screams
why dont they put fucking safety belts in these ships. it’s not like the ship didn’t survive. only Mara got splatted (i guess)
also i love Mara. but damn Adora just got some more shit on her plate. why the fuck was she pushed through a portal again? for a She-Ra chain reaction?
I love madame Raz.
So they didn’t explicitly use it against Hordak Prime. and it wouldn’t have destroyed Etheria back then but it will now...
guh this showmakes it so hard to enjoy catra’s pain.
well they did finally have a good talk about it. I have to say, Glimmer is making good strategic sense - it’s just that this show only rewards harebrained schemes
Catra having a crazy panic attack cos she can’t find Scorpia and she’s completely lost and she knows its her fault. kinda love that for her. my heart
my dear Glimmer, theres a difference between absence of trust and absence of agreement.
they’re bringing king micah back just when angella is dead? oh fuckin lol
the horde....exiled micah? they exiled Micah instead of killing him???
why do they ALWAYS interrupt important conversations? i hate that shit. it’s cheap. it’s unsatisfying.
now THIS is what im here for - that unstoppable WILL!! john gonzalez is right - we watch stories for characters overcomign obstacles. writing, is creating the obstacle course. .....what does that say about me and my life....hmmm.
‘light hope told me everything i need to know’ - uhhh no she didn’t. she didn’t tell you how to harness the energy at all. ugh
how the fuck did double trouble escape. seems to me that they didn’t actually. they were let go....
it’s always so stupid when people try to tell other people: oh no you’ve got no plan - this is too risky! when that’s NEVER a problem
Glimmer is going to activate the weapon just in time for Hordak Prime to use it. And naturally she misses the return of her dad. fuck this
they’re gonna have Hordak and Catra fight? hmm
Double Trouble is right - this IS good for her - and it IS Catra - except for Shadowweaver’s case - she was an abusive bitch
I love Scorpia’s new cool fight music and also glowy eyes
is glimmer going to throw herself into lava??
the unfortunate thing is that Hordak Prime is right on the doorstep and he took over the whole universe or whatever. so they could probably have used that weapon. i mean the Old Ones must have seen something coming. there must be a reason they’re all GONE maybe????
why did Adora assume that all those stars would be destroyed?
THE ANIMATION ON THAT FINAL STUFF WAS INCREDIBLE AND EPIC
how the fukc are they going to beat Horde Prime lolololol.
i guess Glimmer really shouldn’t have done that. but at least she was in time to bond with Catra.
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Retrograde (Pieces of the People We Love, Part 2.)
Description: Not many people had the chance to see a vault or to mean anything in the world of Pandora. Will a hardly built relationship in the loneliness of the desert have the potential to change anything in the world of anarchy and chaos - or will the friends try to murder each other?
A/N: One time, my friend asked me if I would like to drink Dr. Bob or classic Coke when she was making an analogy for a random movie. So Dr. Bob is sort of a long running jokw when comparing a bad movie.
Warnings: A lot of guns, violence, reader is a tough badass - not a vault hunter tho. They’re badass and don’t give a fuck. And Scooter is a dumb bitch, as always. All Psychos and Fanatics are various Vine references - oh, what luck that reader can understand them since she is friends with Bandits.
Word count: 3.6K
Tagging: @notaliteraltoad, @nemodoren
Series master list: H E R E
You were looking straight into the man's face for what seemed to be infinity, it was almost half an hour, while your entwined fingers supported your resting chin. You sat there like that for the past hour while Scooterboy was eating like crazy. He was sure hungry like a wolf.
That was pretty acceptable and reasonable, as far as you could judge - he was pronounced DEAD several years ago. The worst part was that the whole Pandora probably mourned for the best-known, and basically only, mechanic in the business. And now, he was just looking at Pintley and ate almost everything from his plate, looking like a hamster. Scooter literally stuffed his faces with homemade fried Skag bacon and Pintley's bread - definitely one of the best combinations in the entirety of Pandora.
"Are you done with the food?" - A mumbled cold as ice filled the room when Scooter finally finished the fourth plate of food and his last can of the Dr. Bob cola. The drink was sure as hell not healthy and barely nutritious, but it was the only soda Pintley had in Hell's Cauldron's pub.
"Now, you're going to explain to me how the hell are you alive and why, for the fuck's sake, have you respawned here." - The rhythm of your words was slow, your tongue rolled every syllable on its top - as if Scooter had some brain damage. Each of you was staring at the mechanic with hidden curiosity; this was a miracle, to say the least. Was he inside the database the whole time? If he wasn't there, could it be that the systems had some hard time figuring where should it respawn him? It didn't matter how you approached the problem - any of the solutions was making sense to you.
"Ye man, I'm done for now. Thanks for payin' for me, anyway. I don't have any cash on me since..." - Scooter zoned out for a second, watching a small spot next to your head. He was doing that quite a lot throughout his eat-all-you-can episode. His eyes fixed on a precise point somewhere inside the room. It was unnerving.
Without wanting, your eyebrows had risen on their own after a minute of complete silence. You've counted every second of Scooter spacing out before deciding to drag him out of the trance. Slowly, you rose both your hands and clapped. The metallic one could clap pretty loud, so it made Scooterboy freak out, looking around with genuine fear on his face. You've given him another ten seconds to get it all together before you leaned a bit closer, still staring at him without any clear emotion on your face.
Scooter, at first, was staring back at you. Then, he chuckled and leaned his back into the chair. - "How can I know, man? I'm only Scooter, I do cars. Ye, I could repair you a network or stations when ya would like me to, but nobody except those Hyperion robots doesn't know how does New-U work. Can I have another Dr. Bob? I'm really thirsty." - Scooterboy asked you politely, raising the empty can to your eye-level. Oh, he was negotiating, that was what he was doing. He wasn't going to tell you anything without another can of the naughty mysterious cola, right? Well, if this was the case...
Slowly, you closed your eyelids so much that they became two small lines, thinking about murdering Scooterboy just for the fun of it; it wouldn't be that bad, since he would respawn at the station again. It would be maybe morally incorrect, but who were you to care about such bullshit? Being the responsible adult you pretended to be, you managed to overcome your sour feelings against Scooter and calmed down, leaning your back into the chair as well.
"Listen up, young man. You'll tell me everything you remember from the last time you were alive and I, as a little show-off of my gratitude, will buy you another cheap and disgusting cola. Are we on the same page?" - Another few seconds passed until Scooter nodded in agreement before you stretched your arm to Pintley; the old man basically tore the money out of your palm, making you shoot a furrow in his direction. With the speed of literal lighting, he fetched another red can of the soda; everyone was eager to hear Scooter's tale so they could piece the story together on their own.
That didn't mean you would completely wipe the thoughts regarding Scooterboy's sudden and unexpected death in your head. For a reason, when you managed to wrap yourself in some rather unpleasant bullshit, murder scenarios were your usual go-to tactic to calm down once more. Like most things on Pandora, this tendency couldn't be simply explained or treated by walking straight to a therapist's office.
If you'd believe what Blindy told you here and there, another psycho named Jay had a small psychologist office on his own - but let's be serious, what good could a therapy by a psycho do? Your situation wasn't that bad for now; until you'd randomly go on a rampage, you weren't planning on booking an appointment.
The staring contest was going on for a few seconds, yet when neither of you cut the staring off, your normal arm slowly rose another two dollars, as you kept on watching Scooter intensely.
Anticipation was in the air as the mechanic leaned closer to Pintley, catching the soda between his fingers. After that, he just gave you an innocent gaze. - "I blew up." - Scooter said simply, shrugging his shoulders. That made Billy, who was sitting two tables away from you, laugh out loud.
"BITCH DISGUSTING!" - Rayray yelled and every single one of you, including Scooter, looked at the bandit boy. Scooter was the only person in the room who certainly didn't know what Rayray just told him; given Blindy gasped for air, it couldn't be nice.
"Dude, there's no need to be this harsh. Calm your tits and apologize!" - You yelled in Scooter's defense and so did Billy.
Not that you were a master psycho-to-normal translator, yet you could at least roughly understand what Rayray just said. Each of you had your mouth opened as you stared at the bandit boy. You could rarely hear him say something so outrageously accusing. What he said was so damn rude; he was accusing Scooter of lying just like that.
"There's no need to be so fuckin' aggressive, you deadbrain! You don't know if he's lying or not! Say that you're sorry. Do you even realize that enough people already think that we're nothin' but stupid idiots?!" - Billy said in a firm voice and stared Rayray down, almost smacking him like a bitch.
Rayray and Billy had a father-son relationship which could simply be described as ridiculous. Yet, since they both lived in the same bandit colony, somebody had to lead Rayray to behave as well as he could.
“I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'VE DONE THIS.” - Rayray said in a low voice with his head hung low. Everyone shook their heads and looked at Rayray with disappointment just before shifting their looks back on Scooterboy. Each one of you was wondering about the story Scooter had to tell; as you looked over to him and observed the face his face was looking, he surely wasn't done with the story just yet.
“There was a group of weird people travelin' with my friends and one day they came to me and ask “Hey, Scoot, ya willin' to make us a rocket? Need to go to Helios ASAP.” and I was like “Yea”. So I and my pal Janey built them a rocket, but there was a small mechanical problem and my hand was stuck in the rocket... And it needed to blow up, so they could continue their journey to reach Helios, alrite? And it took me to hell and back, man, I tell ya.” - Scooter smiled a bit at that thought. - “I remember it blowin' up. Me bein' on it. And now I'm sitting here with new friends, sippin' some good old Dr. Bob. How is Helios hangin'?”
The silence that had suddenly surrounded you all was uncomfortable, to say the least. Quickly, you glanced over Pintley to look out of the window. Until that day, you could still pinpoint the exact location where Helios was hovering in the sky. Never in those long years since it had blown up, you'd look in the sky and think "Man, it's strange to not see an ugly-ass space station there". But, somehow, that was precisely what you've been thinking about at that moment.
Obviously, if Scooter was dead for the past seven years, his first instinct wouldn't be to look up and search for the most hideous view you've ever had encountered. But not that you realized he wasn't fucking with any of you, it felt strange not to see the station there. As if it was your personal guilt that some jackasses had blown it up.
It was you, again, who decided to speak the first. With a gulp, you've leaned forward to lean your elbows to your thighs, trying to say it in the most natural way possible. - “Scooter... Helios was blown up by a group of pretty weird guys.” - It was nothing but a mere whisper. - “Five years or so ago.”
For a moment, Scooter didn't seem to be connecting the information. It didn't click until a few minutes later. - “Wait, what? And... Sanctuary?” - Scooter leaned even deeper into his chair with his gaze directed into the oblivion.
Why did you have to be the one who had to tell the deadman all the news? Why wasn't anyone else speaking? But as you looked over to the men around, their gazes only answered "Well, you've started with it, don't be a pussy now and finish what you were saying". Did Scooter even know that Handsome Jack was dead now? That there were rumors about discovering about four or five new vaults on the sister planets of Pandora? Did he know that the Children of the Vault had risen all over Pandora? And if he didn't know... How much were you supposed to tell him if you didn't want him to have a hysterical seizure?
“Okay, we might have to trace what you know, get your timeline matching ours and we will have to tell you... So many new things that you may shit your pants.” - You mumbled and opened another Dr. Bob.
It took quite some time before you managed to somehow connect your memories with his. It was almost ten p.m. when you ended. Occasionally, you managed to line-up his memories until the moment when the original Sanctuary was attacked by the flower-army or who (don't act so surprised - anything was pretty much possible on Pandora). As the tales said, the town was now blown up into millions of tiny rocks and the VHs had constructed a literal spaceship (which was Scooter's sister Ellie). Again, you couldn't tell how much of it was true. You couldn't be quite sure that anything on the planet Pandora you heard had actually happened.
But mostly, it all seemed to true - that Helios has fallen, that Sanctuary was teleported by the legendary siren Lilith, known as the Firehawk, or that Handsome Jack was posting a job wanted posts for Vault Hunters wanted just so he could easily kill them off.
Carefully, you told Scooter about the chaos that started when Sanctuary was blown up and the vault key had been lost in the desert. Back then, it was hard to notice the entire Pandora changing since you've been living in a literal desert, but you could tell that something wasn't adding up. When you told him about the siren-powered Calypso twins, you couldn't leave out their cringy streaming career.
You told him all about how the COV had recruited most of the bandit and psycho clans all over Wastelands, starting their big suicidal cult somewhere in an old base, growing bigger with each month. They weren't a serious threat, serious pain in the pain at their best, but they could be quite something to deal with at times.
Of course, were now including all the women that were insane enough to join them, which was among the first questions Scooter was wondering about. Now, there was a small amount of free-psycho-bandit-whatever clans remaining in the deserts and wastelands. Most of the bandits joined the COV; the places they've been living in before were now empty, lifeless and Pandora was a bit less fun without the random encounters.
“So, you aren't in contact with Lilith? Or Moxxi? Or Ellie? Or basically anyone?” - The man asked suddenly after being quiet for a moment. You weren't thinking of yourself as the most empathetic person in the whole of the desert; you've told Scooter all about the reality you've been living in for the past couple of years. For you, it was natural to take it all as the matter of fact - but you couldn't forget about Scooter being a man-out-of-time. It could take him some time to understand the rules of today's Pandora and you had to be patient with him for now. Until you'd get rid of him and get back to your old life.
The question about the VHs and Crimson raiders made you surprised. How could you be in contact with them when you never met them before? - “I don't even know them personally, dude. Hey... You okay, Scooterboy?” - The can with the nasty cola was laying on the table as if Scooter didn't even want it anymore. His face went two shades paler and the grin on his face had faded away. - “You look like you're about to puke.”
Now, he lowered his head and played with his fingers, fidgeting them around. Yeah. It was tough to get accustomed to. So many things had changed since his days on Pandora and even though, it all remained almost the same. It must've been feeling pretty surreal. - “Nah, man. I'm not about to puke, don't ya worry. It's just too much to take in. That's all. I'll be alrite.” - He answered.
You could tell something's off. He was an exploding ball of energy and happiness just two hours ago; now, you managed to destroy his confidence, positivity, and to murder his good mood. Wow. Good job, you.
“I'm sorry if you think that your friends abandoned you here..." - At that point, Pintley looked on the back of your head. Was he dreaming or were you being... Nice to someone? What happened to you? Were you trying to calm Scooter down? Did you finally grow as a person? Oh, but then the rest came, destroying the nice-person aura you had for a bit.
"But that's true, man. They left you here because they thought you were dead-dead... And that's kinda fair if you ask me. I both know it, you know it, Rayray knows it. We all do. Keep it together, yeah? You were fucking dead for the past couple of years. There are so many new things to get accustomed to. But if you'll chicken out of that, you're a pussy." - The tone of your voice was empty and emotionless.
Pintley, for a minute, saw some kind of humanity shining through the aura of I-don't-give-a-diddly-damn you've been keeping ever since he met you. The truth was - you simply didn't care enough to "do emotions", as you called it. You weren't good at it at all, so you didn't bother with trying.
Maybe that's was why you were living on your own in the middle of a desert. That was a pretty plausible explanation.
There were some people you'd call friends, yeah. You even liked to joke around with them. You could do sarcasm, irony, and arse-biting jokes that were sometimes really offensive.
But every other emotion was a literal mystery to you. You couldn't quite show them off even if your heart was warm and full of love. And it was even worse when somebody pissed you off. As soon as you turned on the killing-machine mode, as Pintley called it, you didn't care about being as subtle as possible. Nothing in this world couldn't stop you from shooting someone, killing them, or simply throwing them through the window? Oh, how many times did you have to pay Pintley a new window? He wouldn't be able to count it even if he'd like to.
Yet, even though your dead stare and emotionless expression, the man smiled and patted your shoulder. With a furrow, you watched Scooter slowly backing his hand back to his lap, since you seemed to be thinking about biting the said arm off.
"At least I respawned here, where ya people are actually pretty friendly under playin' that "I'm a badass and cold" facade." - At that, Pintley grinned; since you didn't know what you should respond, you just nodded and made a weird sound.
You didn't know what to answer - you never met anyone that would see you as a... Friendly person? Ugh. Sure, pretty friendly persons live in a cabin hidden far, far away from any signs of society and they have actually fun when they hunt Skags. Right... That was a description of your normal local weirdo, not a description of a damn nice person. As you finished your internal monologue, you snickered under your breath, shaking your head as you unconsciously sat in a defensive position; your knee was thrown over your knee, your arms were covering your torso.
"And where you're planning to sleep, Scooterboy?" - Pintley asked. Since he was done with all the cleaning, he lightened up a cigarette, leaning his shoulder into a near doorframe. - "You know. Just wondering."
Scooter seemed to realize it at the same time you did; where will the poor guy sleep? Pintley had a guest room, sure, but you could already tell something fishy was going on since Pintley himself was the one calling the shots. You knew a spot or two in the forest where Scooter could make a small campsite; you've been sleeping there when the hunt took too long. - "I hadn't thought of somethin' like that. Wow. I am a homeless person, isn't that quite funny?" - Scooter said, clearly being more saddened than before.
Damn, were you and Pintley trying to outdo each other in bringing Scooter's mood lower than before? Clearly, you had more points for the entire Calypso mascarade, but this was an impressive move, to say the least.
Of all people inside the room, it was Blindy who answered. - "Y'all know we can't take him to Ham's Creek. Guys would eat Scooter alive, Cowboy." - Blindy shrugged his shoulders and you just nodded.
It was clear Blindy wasn't joking around - every time you had to visit Ham's Creed, you had goosebumps all over your body. Even if you didn't think of yourself as an emphatic person, you surely thought you're courageous. Damn, your day-to-day job was to hunt Skags down. But Ham's Creek? That was a whole another universe of horror and things that were unseen until you stepped inside the psycho territory. They would grill him like a pig and you didn't second-guess that they would even manage to find an apple which would they stuff into Scooter's mouth. That wasn't a nice image.
Pintley, the traitor, sighed too. - "I would give him a room if Jocelyn wasn't over right now." - Pintley said in a low voice, which was merely indicating how deeply in love your friend was. That mothersucker. Oh, you knew her. You precisely knew who Jocelyn was. With a confused face, you've been the one to answer Pintley's confession.
"Listen, man, love's nice and all... But... Just theoretically... If you have your girlfriend over, and you have sex with her... Why don't you guys sleep in one bed? As far as I know, it's kinda considered to be normal." - It was a frown on your face that made Pintley realize you didn't buy his bullshit at all.
The old man only reddened before mumbling an answer. - "Jocelyn and I aren't ready for such a commitment to sleep in one bed." - At that, you had enough. The next sentence kind of... Slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it.
"Pintley, do you realize that Jocelyn is a figurine? You can literally put her anywhere else and let Scooter have a sleepover at your place before we figure out what to do with him." - The tone of your voice was so incredulous that your voice just slipped an octave higher. For a moment, you've been looking at each other; but it didn't make Pintley say "okay".
It was at that second when you realized what was going on. No, Pintley and Blindy didn't agree on this beforehand, yet both of them were sure it wasn't to be them who would have the boy in their home that night. The truth was that you had an ultra-old couch at your place that was just... There. - "Ah, you sons of a bitch."
Right after that, you stood and expected Scooter to do the same; as he remained sitting there, you just snapped your fingers in front of his face, which freaked him out. As he was picking himself up from the ground, you walked through the pub while putting your significant hat back on.
"Looks like you'll be at my place, boy. Get up, Blindy will drive us home.” - And right before you left, you've shown Pintley your middle finger, making the man chuckle under his breath.
#scooter#borderlands 3#just an intro#bandits speak in vine#crimson raiders#sanctuary#moxxi#ellie borderlands#moxxi borderlands#lilith borderlands#sanctuary borderlands#borderlands 2#scooter borderlands
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Manipulation (part 13)
Note: Uhh. So yeah -- sorry it’s taken me 1 billion years to post this update. Lazy bitch syndrome is real and it hit me pretty hard. At any rate, I hope this makes up for it. :)
NSFW -- 2950 words
(FYI: This story is a sequel/companion piece to Assimilation, which can be found in the Rick Fic Masterpost link in my blog’s description along with additional chapters of Manipulation. Or, you can click the #manipulation tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)
*****
When I awoke just a few hours later – as if my mind could ever quiet down enough to grant me more than that – she remained fast asleep. At some point, she’d turned in my arms and was now lying flat on her back with her hair draped over her face. Several strands had fallen into her gaping mouth and were completely saturated with her saliva. Suppressing a laugh, I gently picked them from her mouth before dropping the moist stands on the pillow.
“Fuckin’ gross,” I grumbled before hauling my aching bones from the cot. Getting dressed was the usual task, along with fishing my flask from my lab coat breast pocket for my morning dose of pick-me-the-fuck-up.
I didn’t have any concrete plans for the day. Morty was at school and I briefly considered yanking him from Math class. All of my current projects were not interesting in the least at the moment. My mind was so preoccupied with the woman sleeping in my bed that even going on an adventure seemed terribly bland in comparison to the intense desire to portal back into my room – because walking would take way too much precious time – and fuck her brains out. But, considering how absolutely haggard she’d looked earlier that morning, I gathered up enough willpower to leave her be.
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Several hours later, I was shifting through the boxes on my metal shelves in the garage, tossing things to the side that I had been procrastinating throwing out, I caught movement from the corner of my eye.
She was casually strolling toward the open garage door with a sway in her hips that I hadn’t witnessed firsthand since before I’d left all those years ago and my eyes glued to her figure like flies on shit. The grin gracing her lips was playful and sexy as hell and I caught her wink as her styled hair bounced with each step, in time with her breasts. Hitching a breath, I prepared to quip a clever turn of phrase in an attempt to hear that delightful giggle of hers but before I could, her cell phone issued a shrill chirp from her small handbag, drawing her attention to the hand held device. Then, giving a quick and curt wave, she turned on those ridiculously high heeled shoes and pranced her way to the lime green hatchback parked on the street.
Wait a second, I thought as her car zipped through the residential streets. Where the fuck is she going? She looked absolutely stunning and there was no way she was going somewhere dressed like that… alone.
----------
I’d hopped in my ship and followed her by air as she weaved through the streets, making her way toward one of the many places that humans congregate in throngs. Then, she finally parked her car in the nearly full lot of a restaurant that probably housed its fair share of douche bags. Narrowing my eyes, I glared holes through the windshield of the ship as they remained trained on her form. She was obviously meeting someone and, even though I knew I shouldn’t give any shits, I actually gave many, many shits. And, as much as I wanted to immediately chase her down, I opted to sulk in silence for a half an hour or so before making my way inside.
I spotted her nearly instantly, tucked away in the corner of the restaurant with some goober looking mother fucker and I felt my blood pressure rise to a degree that was actually concerning. And, she was smiling – she was fucking laughing. What the actual fuck?
My mind was screaming at me to leave; just turn around and abandon this fiasco waiting to happen. But, let’s face it, when have I ever listened to logic where there was a full bar within spitting distance? So, I sat down and ordered the biggest, strongest, cheapest drink. And, she continued smiling – she continued laughing. I felt my fingers twitch as my hand seemed to move of its own volition; sliding across the slick top of the glass covered bar, toward my lab coat to fish though the inner pockets until it located the flat, rectangular device that I knew would be my ruin. Without restraint, my fingers flew over the touch screen –
Me: So how’s your boyfriend?
Me: He looks like a doofus.
Me: He can’t be THAT funny.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied her distracted expression as her phone drew her attention away from the moron blabbing across the table from her. She did, however, sweep her eyes across the expanse of the restaurant, until I felt them settle on me.
Me: He thinks he’s getting his dick sucked.
Me: I bet his nuts smell like cottage cheese.
Me: Does he know you like ‘em swaggly?
Her: Jealous?
Again, THAT word – that fucking word – flashed like a beacon behind my eyes. I felt the actual emotions course and burned through my veins almost as keenly as the cheap whiskey and all I could do was scowl at the bottom of my glass, helpless and pitiful, as she carried on with her date.
After what felt like hours of straining to eavesdrop on their conversation, their check arrived and she snatched it from the edge of the table before the doofus she was sharing her time with could protest. At this point, my body went on autopilot. Rising from the bar stool, my legs felt like jelly as they moved of their own accord, toward the secluded table in the corner of the restaurant. Then, before she noticed my presence, I slide smoothly into the booth seat beside her and eyed her idiotic date warily.
“Heyyy, babe. Who – who’s your little friend?”
She gawked at the bug eyed moron across the table, her own eyes wide with shock. A swell of pride bloomed in my chest when I realized that I had successfully ruined whatever ‘romantic’ evening he may have had planned for my girl.
“Hi, I’m Trevor,” he said, extending a hand toward me from across the table.
“Rick Sanchez,” I replied, not taking ‘Trevor’s’ offered hand but, instead, pulling her closer next to me. She remained speechless until I placed a hand on her knee and began gliding it up her nicely shaped thigh.
“Trevor and I were just going over the architectural plans I drew for his house,” she offered, lifting a large portfolio from the booth on the opposite side of her, closest to the wall, and placing it on the table. She turned to look at me straight in the eye and resisted the obvious urge to flinch back when she saw that my face was mere inches from hers.
“So, are you two… um…” Trevor began.
“Fuckin’? Yeah, man. Oh yeah – all the way. She – uh – she’s wild, too. I-I-I mean, not like you’d know. Or – or anything. Nah – she’s wayyy too hot – too fine.”
From beside me, she issued a terse laugh that bordered on hysterical while her date began to gather his things to leave.
“Don’t forget the drawings,” she said, taking the large, folded prints from her portfolio. “Please, look them over again and get back to me with the changes, okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, plucking the drawings from her delicate fingers. “I’ll email you.”
Just then, I felt a hot flush erupt though my body, originating from my chest, when the realization hit me square in the gut that I’d completely mistaken this entire situation. They really had been attending a business meeting and I’d just acted like a complete asshole; which was not a rare occurrence, to be sure. But, no fucking doubt, I’d screwed myself to the wall with the dumb ass shit I’d just pulled with her. Instead of folding my shitty hand, however, I kept with my time honored tradition of making sure I always get the last word – no matter what.
“Don’t l-let the door hit ya on the way out,” I called, giving Trevor a salute as he turned on his oddly high shinned loafers and hightailed it out of the restaurant. And, as soon as he was out of sight, she groaned and covered her face as my arm slowly retreated from her shoulder.
“Why?” she asked, her voice a high pitched whine but muffled behind her hands. Instead of replying, I ordered us both a scotch on the rocks as the waitress came by to pick up the check. When the drinks were delivered, she downed hers in one shot and then snatched mine to do the same.
Can you fucking blame her? my conscience chimed in as I pulled my flask for a swig and hunched over the table while attempting to play nonchalant. Then, she started giggling.
“What – w-what’s so fuckin’ funny?” I asked, sounding like a sourpuss even to my own ears. She giggled harder.
“You really think I’m fine?” she asked, shifting her upper body to fully face me in the booth.
“Shut up.”
“Seriously, though. What the hell was that?”
Again, I supplied no response. She knew that I knew I’d fucked up.
“By the way, Trevor is totally gay,” she cooed, breaking me from my pity party.
Something was happening. Glancing in her direction, I could see the blush rising in her cheeks. Then, in a not-so-subtle move, she pressed her tits against my arm when retrieving her card that the waitress had just dropped on the edge of the table and I literally had to force myself not to react.
She scooted closer to me in the booth and attempted to ‘casually’ drape one thigh over mine and grasped one of my hands from the table, planting it on her knee in a recreation of our secret grope session in the back of Beth’s car. Quirking a brow, I trailed my hand further up her thigh at a sensually slow place. She hitched a breath when I finally reached the hem of her lace panties, where I hooked a finger under the elastic and playfully snapped. She flirtatiously laughed in response, tilting her head to rest on my shoulder, but I refused to look at her – only slowly trailed my finger around the elastic on her thigh until I reached the apex of her legs.
Then, finally, I made eye contact as I nudged the thin fabric to the side and smoothly slid my middle and ring finger inside her. She was soaking wet.
“Oh fuuuck,” I whispered, closing my eyes. When I dragged my fingers out and slowly pushed them back in, she bit her bottom lip and dug her nails in the meaty flesh of my forearm to stifle a moan. She was still looking up into my face when I opened my eyes and pressed my lips her forehead, repeating the motion once more. “That feel good – y-you like that, beautiful?”
“Rick,” she breathed, as I withdrew my fingers to gently rub her clit. Her legs began to tremble so she circled the calf of the leg draped over mine around my calf and hooked her foot behind it, opening herself up wider. I pressed inside once again and she exhaled a shaky breath while staring up into my face. Just then, every dark desire I’d ever harbored for her bubbled to the surface and I simply didn’t have the willpower to refuse them any longer. Dropping a comically chaste kiss to her forehead, I performed a quick visual scan of our immediate area.
The restaurant had a dark ambiance by design to make each booth feel intimate. We were seated in a booth that was situated in the corner, set further apart from the remainder of the dining area. The side of the booth that we currently occupied was facing in such a way that we could not be seen head on. In the few seconds it took for me to perform a visual assessment, my hand and grown still between her legs. Apparently, that simply would not do – as evident by release of her vice grip from my forearm to my upper thigh, gliding upward until she fully cupped my already painfully hard cock through my slacks. I involuntarily jerked at the contact and returned my gaze to her face.
“I – I gotta taste you,” I declared, pitching my voice low so it could only be heard by her ears before completely extracting my soaking fingers from her cunt and exiting the booth. Obviously confused by my actions, she made to exit the booth herself and I stopped her with a curt, “Stay,” before taking a seat in the booth on the opposite end of the table, facing her. Then, propping my elbows on the table, I did one last visual scan of the room. Curious, she turned to see what I could be searching for and, while she was distracted, I slid from the booth seat to situate on my knees under the table before she or anyone else was the wiser. When I shuffled toward her and closed my hand around her right ankle, she squealed and jerked upward, attempted to yank her foot away in the process.
“Calm the fuck down!” I hissed, tightening my grip slightly in silent warning before gliding up her calf, my lips and tongue following close behind.
Glancing up her body in the semi-darkness, I caught her attempting to peak at me from under the cloth and smirked as my hands and mouth and tongue continued their teasing upward decent. When I reached her knee, I hooked my hand beneath it to hook her leg over my shoulder. Then, I shoved her opposite leg outward and wedged myself between her thighs to make room before hooking my fingers under the lace of her panties, yanking them to the side. Her body slightly trembled in a way that made my heart rate skyrocket drastically and, when my tongue finally made contact, I felt every muscle in her body tense and my ears were just able picked up her muffled gasps and moans.
I didn’t waste time with teasing. I lapped at her pussy, from top to bottom – truly tasting her – dragging the flat of my tongue up and down over and over. I probed her hole, pushing my tongue inside, fucking her with it until her legs instinctively tried to clamp around my head. I simply pushed the leg not over my shoulder outward once more and continued my mission, darting my tongue upward toward her clit where I circled and flicked the engorged bundle of nerves, making her body tremble and jerk in response.
Suddenly, I stopped and moved back slightly when the most scandalous idea occurred to me. Retrieving my cell phone, my fingers flew across the touch screen.
Me: Your pussy is so delicious baby.
Above me, she barked out a strangled laugh before shuffling around on the table top. Seconds later, my phone vibrated in response.
Her: Suck on my clit.
Feeling myself flush at her bold request – which seemed ironic considering I was the one eating her snatch under a restaurant table – I moved in closer still and wrapped my lips around her clit, just as she asked. No – demanded. No more than two minutes later, the familiar buzz interrupted me once more.
Her: I’m so close, Rick. Fuck me with your fingers, please!
And, I obliged – pressing my eager digits inside; curling and dragging and pressing. My mouth resumed the gently suckling of her clit, adding the sweeping motion of my tongue for good measure until she was full on shaking, unable to disguise it as her cunt clinched violently. I knew my good girl was so close for me.
Me: Cum on my face, my beautiful girl.
Right on cue, her body went entirely rigid; one hand slamming the top of the table while the knee resting over my shoulder jerked upward and slammed the bottom simultaneously as she came all over my face – just as I’d requested.
A moment later, I pulled back and gently lifted her leg from my shoulder. She nearly slid down the booth to the floor but I caught her calves and shoved her upward before reaching for my phone once more.
Me: Let me know when the coast is clear.
It was at least a few minutes before she stuck her hand under the table to wave me out. But, while I waited, I continued to sext her – making sure to keep her hot and bothered now that I knew she had a penchant for voyeurism.
Me: I’m not finished with you yet. I’m gonna fuck you stupid, sweetheart.
Me: It smells like your pussy under here.
Her: Bet me I won’t be banned from this restaurant for the rest of my life.
Me: Fuck that. Bet me this table won’t be reserved for months by every horny pervert within a 20 mile radius.
Me: We’ve done this dumb a favor.
When I finally reemerged on the other side of the booth, the spent expression she wore was so obvious that I couldn’t help the Cheshire grin that spread across my teeth as the rose colored blush tinted her chest, neck and cheeks. I had truly underestimated this girl, perhaps since the moment I’d met her.
Well, I was more than ready to make up for lost time.
To be continued…
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Honey, Don’t Feed It
Sometimes you can’t help people, even when they’re the ones you most want to.
Naia meets a young Stryfe.
Naia is not a babysitter.
Fact of the matter is, Naia doesn’t like kids that much. Didn’t like kids when they were a kid, and now that that tenuous connection to that subset of humanity is gone, they would rather avoid them as much as possible, thank you so much for asking.
Okay, maybe that’s not fair. Naia might suck with babies (they’re too loud and the fact that they cry but can’t explain why they’re crying gives them anxiety) but once kids are old enough to communicate they can handle them pretty well for small doses. Little kids could even be endearing, once they got over their fear of Naia’s extra limbs and intimidating size. Kids usually did better than adults when it came to Spider-man rescuing them; they held on and stared in awe and then they ran back to their parents or to their siblings or to whoever came to collect them.
“I’m not a child.”
It’s teenagers Naia really can’t stand.
“Kid, you’re like twelve, hush.”
Standing between the kid and the cops, Naia has their arms spread in the traditional peacekeeping posture, one set of palms spread toward the boys in blue, one toward the telepathic kid on the edge of murdering a pair of bigots. Honestly, even if the kid wasn’t a kid, Naia knows who’s side they’d be on.
Cops are always wrong, and bigots belonged in the ground, but the issue here was more that it was seven in the morning and the kid is obviously strong enough to kill the assholes he’s got caught in some kind of telekinetic death grip but isn’t. Which means he’s not the bad guy.
Now to get the cops to put their guns down.
The crowd that has gathered around the scene is doing that collective silence thing that always makes Naia a little nervous. There are a lot of witnesses -- and potential victims, if the kid decides to go off. Judging by the fierceness on his face and the creep laying on the cement with blood trickling from his mouth, eyes, ears, and nose, the kid has a lot of power. Thus far he’s managed to reel it in -- the pavement-creep is breathing like it hurts, and from what Naia has gathered, he deserves it -- but if people start shooting, Naia doesn’t think self-control is going to be the first thing on the kid’s mind.
Ugh, telepaths. Kids and telepaths. This is gonna be the death of them, this exact bullshit. Kids and telepaths, they both want to get inside your head and then get mad when your thoughts aren’t the ones they wanted to hear.
Kid, they project, trying to remember how Mom taught them to do this. Shielding and trying to hold a private conversation is difficult and weirdly exhausting. You promise not to kill anybody and I’ll get you out of here. Take you somewhere safe, help you out as best I can. But you gotta put those guys down and come with me.
They wince, almost lose their shields, at the force of emotion -- rage and contempt and a sort of pain threaded through it that Naia is pretty sure they’re not supposed to pick up on -- that is slammed back at them. They insulted me! They deserve to die!
Someone makes a helpless noise of agony, and blood starts gushing from one of the asshole’s nose. The kid has them suspended in air and, as far as Naia can tell, the two humans can’t move at all. Now one of them has a broken nose. That’s pretty fantastic control for a kid.
Dangerous, too.
Kill ‘em and the cops start shooting. You’re gonna have the whole damn city after your ass, even if you can wipe all of us out. Public enemy number one.
Why shouldn’t I? The kid’s telepathic voice is cold, dripping with condescension, but the emotions that twist through the telepathy are laced with uncertainty. The kid is lost, obviously. Naia doesn’t know the whole story, is pretty sure they don’t want to know, but they do feel a sort of vague sympathy for the kid.
Whatever pain he’s working through, being insulted by a group of anti-mutant bigots was probably the least of it. He’s a very powerful kid, but he’s just a kid, one who’s been hurt bad by someone he probably trusted.
Naia sighs.
C’mon, kid. Don’t make me side with cops.
There’s a startled sense of amusement, which is a hopeful sign. A question curls around their brain, wordless, just the impression of consideration and hesitation. It wouldn’t be bad, except Naia can feel the kid peeling at their telepathic shields. He’s damn powerful, but no one’s evidently taught him subtlety.
I am so subtle! The kid snarls, and Naia smiles under their mask. The anger fades a little, replaced by curiosity. You can get me away from here?
“The kid is gonna come with me,” Naia says out loud, keeping a steady gaze on the cops. Unsurprisingly, none of them lower their weapons, but everyone’s hesitant to shoot Spider-man after he’d saved so many people. He was a symbol, and most of the cops knew you couldn’t publicly execute a symbol without good cause. “He’s gonna drop the assholes and we’re gonna go. No shooting necessary. No one dies, you can take the creep on the ground to the hospital, it all works out.”
Put the idiots down, kid. Show of faith, c’mon.
And wonder upon wonders, the kid does. He doesn’t do it gently; he drops them like the sacks of shit they are -- it doesn’t take a telepath to find a Neo-Nazi when the jackasses love to advertise their nationalist bullshit on their clothes -- and in another miracle, the assholes stay down.
Glancing at each other, the cops finally lower their weapons, and Naia nods. “We’re gonna go. Make sure the guy bleeding all over public property gets to the hospital. Or better yet, give him a ticket for littering. Public indecency. Whatever.”
That said, Naia moves quickly to the kid’s side. One of the assholes cranes his head up to glare at them, and he growls, “Fuckin’ muties.” Naia wants to put a boot through his teeth, but before they can move, the asshole screams, blood pouring from his eyes and his nose, altogether too similar to the one unconscious over by the cops. He collapses face first back against the pavement, hopefully just passed out, and Naia feels the prickly tingle of the danger-sense just before the sound of a gun being cocked reaches them.
“Goddamnit, kid,” Naia snarls, and before he can protest, they’ve got their right two arms around him, holding him against their body as they leap up onto the roof of the nearest building. He shouts, and shoves away as soon as they’re both on their feet.
“You can’t do that,” he says sharply, hands balled into fists, glaring.
“What, prevent your dumb ass from getting shot?” Naia snaps back, and it’s gratifying to see his mouth fall open, shocked. “Kid, I had you out of there scot free, and now your fuckin’ face is gonna be up all over the city as a dangerous mutant wanted, consider him armed and dangerous. Half those people down there were filming that. Gonna be all fuckin’ over YouTube now.”
The danger sense prickles again, and they half expect the kid to lash out, but his head twists toward the roof access door, eyes still wide. Naia sighs.
“They’re coming after us. So let’s get the fuck outta here. I can stash you somewhere for a while. Couple hours, ‘til the heat dies down some and you can get out of town tonight.”
“I have business here, I can’t leave!”
Kids. Fuckin’ kids and telepaths, Naia could just about scream. “Rain check your business, dipshit! Now can you use the TK to float or do I need to carry you?”
They’d seen Cable do that a couple times, but he was supposed to be super powerful or something. And he was old, had a lot longer to practice.
Looking back at them, the kid scowls. “I do not need to be carried.”
“Then float. Let’s go.”
Really, with the kind of attitude this kid’s got, Naia half expects him to obstinately stay put, or maybe run off on his own. He seems the sort of kid to refuse help on principle, but he also has that wide-eyed touristy look, and his clipped, formal way of speaking reinforces the idea that he’s not from around here.
As if the metal chest plate and cape thing wasn’t communicating that clearly enough.
He at least stops trying to pry into Naia’s head as they lead him into Brooklyn, leaping from building to building until they get to a quiet, rundown neighborhood. Most of the windows on the building they lead the kid do have been boarded over, and the place sucks to be stuck in during winter, but on a nice September day it shouldn’t be too bad.
“This building is abandoned,” he says, sounding disdainful. “You expect me to stay here?”
They sigh, prying open the plywood-covered maintenance door and holding it for him to go in first. “I know it’s not the Ritz, kid, but I’ve got food and a place to relax instead of being hunted all over the fucking city and getting your ass handed to you by one of the masked guys who don’t have a soft spot for idiot tourist kids.”
He stares again, but only for a second, before glaring and scowling, stalking into the building with a swish of his cape. “I’m not a kid,” he grumbles, and Naia finds it really funny that he thinks that’s the part of their assessment that needs correcting. They drag the door shut and hurry to get in front of him, leading him through the abandoned building to the ground-floor apartment they’d appropriated as a safe house. It was one of the only ones that had a door in the front room that hadn’t been kicked down or taken off its hinges.
“I can’t believe you’re happy your room still has a door,” he says, still scathing in that snotty way kids who grew up with nice things had.
“You should be glad too,” Naia says cheerfully, closing the door carefully behind them. “Means no homeless people have broken in and pissed on the couch again.”
It’s not the nicest safe house they’ve had, but it’s not bad. No electricity, but the broken down couch was comfy and there had been a number of cats locked in the apartment when they’d found it. Most of them and left and never come back when they’d left the windows open for them to roam, but one big tom, old and possessed of a rusty, broken meow, had stayed.
Presently he was curled on the center seat of the couch, sleeping. The kid stood looking at the cat like he wasn’t certain if he should chase it away or leave it alone.
“Cat’s not gonna bite, just take a seat,” Naia says, amused. “Luce is nice, but he doesn’t usually like strangers much.”
This was a lie, but Naia told it to everyone they brought here because it made them happy when Luce wanted to get in their lap or purred for them. And it’s really not a surprise that he perks up when the kid sits next to him, shoved up into the corner of the couch closest to the door. He stares at the cat for a moment longer and then looks away, folding his arms across his chest.
“You said there was food.”
Naia snorts softly, moving into the kitchenette. There was a useless (and ancient) fridge, but since there was no electricity it was more a pantry than anything. Somewhere to store stuff they didn’t want Luce (or any other animal who slipped in through the cracked window) to chew into. They pry it open and take stock of what’s available. “Yeah kid, just gimme a sec. You a picky eater?”
“No,” he says, and somehow makes it sound like he’s being gracious by telling them. “And my name is Stryfe.”
“Strife?” Their eyebrows rise under the mask, leaning back from the fridge to look at him. He is staring down at the cat, who is now sniffing carefully at the edge of his cape. “Is that, like, a code name, or…?”
“It’s my name,” he says primly, head held up and jaw set. “It’s spelled with a ‘y’.”
“Ah, okay,” they say, sticking their head back in the fridge. “So your parents just hated you.”
It’s meant playfully, but they can feel the sharp way he stares at them, and it’s like all the breath in the room went out. A raw nerve, and one they just kicked hard. Fuck.
“Uh, sorry, kid, that wasn’t… That was a bad joke, I didn’t mean anything by it.” The kid starts breathing again, and Naia thinks that’s okay then. They grab a couple ramen packets and a can of chicken and step over the the counter. “So, what’re you in town for?”
His silence is telling, and they can feel him in their head again, pushing at the shields they have up, prying into them, looking for some ulterior motive, some hidden threat. They wish they were better at this telepathic shielding shit, because as it stands, they’re out of practice and it’s exhausting.
“Kid, I want to help. I’m not cooking for you so I can stab you in the back later. You think I’m gonna call the cops on you? I’m Spider-man, me and cops don’t exactly go hand-in-hand.”
The mental pressure eases somewhat, but doesn’t entirely disappear. For a long moment, he’s quiet, and they think he’s not going to answer. That’s fine, it’s not really their business, and they’ve already had a long night. Then, he says, “I’m from the future.”
Naia tries not to feel exasperation. Time-travel shit is always exhausting. They rarely have to deal with it, but they’ve been dropped into enough parallel universes to know that they’re lucky in that regards. They get pan-dimensional bullshit, let the X-Men and the Avengers deal with the time-travel shit.
“Oh,” they say as tactfully as possible, pouring a couple bottles of water into a pot and setting it on the camp-stove. “So what’s brought you, uh, to the past?”
“I’m cleaning up other people’s mistakes,” he says archly. “That’s as much as you need to know.”
Silence swallows them for a while, Naia focusing on cooking the ramen and draining the chicken and making the meal as palatable as possible. They’re running out of supplies in this place, so they’ll have to stock up soon, but they figure, what the hell, and dump a can of mixed vegetables into the ramen as well. Kid looks like he could use the fuel.
The kid eats with Luce curled up in his lap, eating with that careful sort of control that says he wants to wolf it but feels that sort of display would make him look bad. Measured and obviously relishing every bite. It would be flattering if Naia wasn’t busy trying to think about how much the future must suck if instant ramen with some canned goods tossed in is that good to the kid.
When they do start talking, they don’t talk about much. He seems pleased when they tell him the cape is a nice touch, almost smiling as he sits up a little straighter.
“I find it important to make a visual statement,” he says. Naia raises their water bottle to that, and tactfully doesn’t make any comments about drapery. The kid looks at them where they’re leaning against the wall and frowns to himself, dragging his fork through the broth that remains in his bowl. “Why do you keep the cat here if this is not your home?”
Naia shrugs, pushing away from the wall and coming to take his bowl. “He was here first. I figure if he wanted to go to a different home he would. He didn’t like it when I tried taking him out of here, so I brought him back. I make sure he gets fed and he has his couch. Also possibly he likes to hang out with the ghost of whatever cat-hoarder used to live here. There were a lot of cats when I took this place over.”
“That sounds stupid. Ghosts don’t hang around to watch cats.”
They laugh, and he goes on a very serious diatribe about superstition being the crutch of a weak mind. Naia wonders if 4Chan is still big in the future. Kid sounds like he’d fit in real well with those sort of pretentious ‘intellectuals’.
While they wash up the dishes and put everything away, making note that they’re going to need more water here next time they stock up, too, they pull up music on their phone and play it to fill the silence. The kid makes faces, but doesn’t complain.
It’s a little past noon when they try to get the kid to open up again about what he’s trying to do, and he very clearly doesn’t want any part of it.
“I have the matter in hand,” he says heatedly, arms crossing again, until Luce makes a plaintive sound at the sudden loss of being pet. He scratches at the cat’s neck, glaring daggers at Naia. “I don’t need help.”
“Well, you sure weren’t doing super hot on your own when I found you.”
He scowls and they soften a little.
“C’mon. You’re new in town, and this is a big place. I’ve been in the city all my life, I know where everything is. I can at least point you in the right direction.”
They have a little staring contest for a moment, and it surprises Naia that he’s the one to look away first. “I have to do this on my own.”
“Fuck, gimme a break. You were talkin’ so smart a minute ago, don’t shove your head back up your ass, c’mon. More hands makes less work.”
He huffs, glaring at them again, mouth pressed in a tight line. “I am on my own to prove a point, I do not need help.”
“Everybody needs help, kid.”
“I’ve told you, my name is Stryfe! I demand you stop calling me kid!”
The mask does little to hide Naia’s grin at that. If the kid weren’t sitting down with a lap full of contented cat, they think he’d have actually stamped his little foot. “How old are you, kid? Thirteen going on three?”
“I am sixteen, I’m not some child.”
Naia gentles again at that, at least a little. It’s all right to tease, but he’s so vehement, it’s clear enough that this is somehow important. Probably something someone’s pushed the kid into thinking. “The future must really suck if sixteen is when you have to start being an adult.”
“The future makes sense.” He proclaims, and Naia doesn’t know whether to laugh or just shake their head. “Once I finish what I came here to do, the future will be perfect.”
Setting their head to one side, they watch him for a minute. He’s focused on Luce, stroking over the soft fur of the cat’s head.
“If you’d tell me what you’re trying to to do,” they offer, tone as gentle as the voice modulator will allow, “I would help you.”
He looks back at them, suspicious but almost hopeful too. “You wouldn’t. And I must do it myself. That’s the whole point.”
“I’ve already been helping you. Why would I stop now?”
“You’re not unknown in the future. You wouldn’t help me.”
It’s hard to argue with an evasive time-traveler, but that doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. As much as they want to help the kid, he sounds a little like a baby villain. All brooding secrets and deep hurts, ugly intentions. “You gonna kill someone?”
“I have to.” He says it flat, like it’s the obvious recourse any sixteen-year-old would come to. “He… they ruined everything. I’m going to take care of it.”
“You can’t just kill everyone who wrongs you, kid.”
His face screws up, angry, furious even. “Can’t I? That’s what you do, isn’t it? What makes Spider-man’s judgement better than mine?”
He says it like it’s a gotcha, and it’s a little surprising, how hard the words hit. Naia wants to say something about how they’re at least an adult, old enough to throw their life away crusading against actual murderous assholes. Not everyone who upset them, not even everyone who injured them. They’d had experience. This kid was just angry -- justifiably, maybe, but… he needed help. He needed patience, someone to help him unlearn this arrogant shit he used to wrap himself up and shield him from the ways he’d been hurt.
But then he smiles, sharp and cutting, and says, “Or should I just call you Naia?”
The way he pronounces their name, it sounds like a taunt, like the sound of it is something to mock. His expression does nothing to disguise the threat implied in his words.
Really, Naia’s a little sick of it. They’ve been playing nice all day despite the kid’s shitty attitude, and Naia was never a patient, kindly person. They’re not a parent, they’re not a big sibling, they’re not required to put up with this shit.
"Kid,” they say, looking down at him, scowling under the mask as they square their shoulders, “your name is Strife-with-a-Y and you ‘ported back from the oh-so-enlightened future with the manners of a four-year-old and the fashion sense to match, so just because you picked my name out of my brain, don't act like you're superior. You’re angry, and I can respect that, but you’ve done nothing to give me any reason to respect you. Bullies ain’t worth shit."
They expect anger. Yelling, maybe a punch thrown. The kid’s obviously practiced in hurting people with his TK, so maybe something like that.
Instead, the kid looks like Naia punched him. His eyes, normally narrowed and angry, are suddenly wide and open. He looks startled, like he’s grasping for his anger but so completely unused to being spoken to like that that he doesn’t know how to handle it. Naia tries to imagine that, imagine going sixteen years without anyone snapping you back in place when you were out of line, about being that secure in your right to treat anyone and everyone like shit, and finds they can’t quite do it.
“Less than a decade from now, you die a failure,” he hisses after a moment of that stunned shock. The viciousness of his tone is especially taut, the sort of tone used to mask pain with anger. He wants to lash back and hurt them. “You die ugly. Slow. And it doesn’t even matter.”
“Yeah?” Naia snaps back, nowhere near as mild as they’d like to be. “That supposed to make me, what? Stop? I might die as a loser, but I sure as shit don’t live like one.”
In a second, the kid is on his feet, Luce hitting the floor with a noise of feline offense and rushing off to the other end of the safe house. “I should kill you myself,” He says, hands balled into angry fists Naia knows he wouldn’t bother to use. He’d do for them with the TK to keep his hands clean.
“It make you feel better, threatening the only person you had on your side in this era?”
Their head bounces loudly off the wall. They hear something crack and hope to any god listening that it’s the drywall and not their skull. Collapsed on the floor, they have a hard time getting their eyes to focus through the mask, blackness lancing through their vision. They feel more than see Stryfe looming over them, and grin crookedly at him from where they sprawl.
“You’re not worth killing.” He says, savage. “Me killing you would honor you.”
They want to say something. They’re not even sure what; a dozen tones dance through their head, ways to play what just happened out to distinct, impactful ends. There’s a part of them that wants to push the kid to doing it, but they don’t know if he’s really still moral enough to get the satisfaction of his feeling bad about doing it. And thinking that makes them feel weirdly guilty. Guilty for doubting that a kid could be so devoid of humanity, for thinking he might be so far beyond help.
He makes a sharp noise at that, and they can feel it, when he finally withdraws from prying at their mind. His cape snaps at the air when he turns sharply away.
Really, a good hero would shake off the likely-concussion, get up, say something clever and thoughtful that would get him to stick around. They would try to stop him, try to save him.
Naia stays on the floor, eyes closed, and carefully shore up their telepathic shields. It’s easier to make them strong when you’re not focused on other things, like standing.
The kid’s boots click importantly against the tile, and when he shuts the front door behind him, it’s slammed sharply in place.
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Thin Line (m)
Yoongi x Reader
Word Count: 6.8k
It doesn’t take a big step to cross over a fine line.
Crimson red tints your cheeks, embarrassment your shade of blush for the night as you sit on the floor with a group of friends (and a so-call friend who has just outed your crush to the entire group), playing a game of Truth and Dare that has your skin on fire at the hand of Park Jimin who decides it’s his duty as your best friend to announce the name of your crush, who also happens to be your roommate and also happens to be sitting directly beside you.
“You’re supposed to say your crush,” you snare through your teeth at the boy who sits across from you, his eyes glazed with intoxication and arched with the stupid smile that’s on his face. It’s Jimin’s turn, choosing Truth after having to lick the underside of Taehyung’s foot sprinkled with hot sauce in the last round. ‘Who’s your crush?’ was blurted out as the first instinct of any Truth or Dare player, having all eyes on him, until his words are directing everyone’s attention to you.
“I don’t have one!” he says defensively. “So, I said yours!” is his pathetic attempt at an excuse and you can’t believe what you’re hearing.
“That’s not how it works!” you respond with your jaw clenching, hands balling into fists.
“Oh, why so defensive, Y/N?” Jungkook teases, “I guess it’s true.”
“Shut up Jeon,” you shoot at him, glaring in his direction for a moment before returning your death stare to Jimin.
“Yoongi’s a cool guy! What’s so wrong about crushing on him!” Jimin is just making it worse at this point and all you wish is that your physical existence in time and space would evaporate into nothing more than particles in the atmosphere, sparing you from the embarrassment and teasing that pursues, your drunkards of friends having a little too much fun, and definitely too much to drink.
“Y/N and Yoongi sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g” is being chanted and you can’t believe your pinkened ears because you’ve defied all laws of physics and have literally just discovered time travel, being sent back to middle school where you’re surround by immature little pricks, making a big deal just because you like a boy.
“I’m going home,” you mumble, taking one last, long swig of tequila before pushing yourself off the floor and haphazardly making it to your feet, the alcohol hitting you hard once your feet are the only part of you planted on the floor after spending the better half of the night sat on your ass.
Yoongi is quick to stand, not a drop of alcohol in his system because of his car out front, and he steadies your swaying figure.
You try to pull away from him, waving him off as you (unsuccessfully) try to convince him you’ll be okay on your own, not needing this small interaction to be more ammunition for the group of idiots still sprawled out on the floor.
“I’m your ride home,” he says when you tell him to sit back down.
And the ‘Ohhh, Y/N and Yoongi are going home together’ is met with the finger as your only response before you turn on your heel and walk, or rather stumble, away.
The burning on your skin has definitely sobered you up enough to think somewhat clearly, although your body lags behind and physically you’re pretty disorientated, and the embarrassment is suffocating, especially now that you and Yoongi are alone.
He laughs it off when you profusely apologize for Jimin’s behaviour, insisting that he was too drunk to even know what was coming out of his mouth, and that his words hold no truth.
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Yoongi says half way through the drive, probably unable to put up with the apologizes that spew from your mouth. A ruffle of your hair has your lips smacking shut, you feel like a child, especially after tonight’s events and you can feel your heart cracking into pieces as if the universe herself has taken a chisel to it, letting you know that you’re nothing more than a kid to Yoongi, someone he likes to tease and poke fun at, someone who won’t have his heart the way he does yours.
//
The patterned fleece blankets and poster cluttered walls tell you you’re in your room, tucked into your own bed, where you must have spent the night, but the throbbing headache that pounds your skull from the inside out doesn’t tell you how you got here. Your memory is in shatters with edges so sharp that the only thing you can feel is splitting pain in the place of your mind; you wish you can say last night is a blur, but it’s not even that, holding no place in your recollection of yesterday and it is as non-existent as your phone seems to be at the moment. Your arms flail beneath the sheets in search of the device and you’re like a butterfly fluttering about, trying to break out of your cocoon looking for freedom, except it’s your blanket that has you trapped and you’re not nearly as graceful as nature’s bursts of colour.
Hooking your chin over the edge of the mattress, sweet victory rings in your ears in the form of muffled buzzing, paired with the dim light of an LED screen coming from beneath the thin sweatshirt you must have discarded on the floor at some point during the night. Snatching up your phone, you’re met with a number of notifications, namely from Jimin and worry sweeps across your features as your thumb sweeps across the unlock button. There are over ten messages from him, some still coming in as you pull up your conversation with him, scrolling up to where you last responded and you hope that his words will give you some insight to last night’s events because you’re blind to what happened between dinner and right now.
Jimin Park that ass [12:47pm]
Y/N
hey
im so sorry
i didn’t mean to say anything last night
i was drunk and wasn’t thinking
when am i ever thinking??
god
i feel like such a jackass
i should’ve kept my mouth shut
it wasnt my secret to tell
im sorry, i hope i didn’t fuck everything up for you
please tell me what i can do to make it up to you
i’ll do anything i swear
Insight is the opposite of what you get because these texts just make you more confused. Why is Jimin apologizing? What did he do to be sorry for? You two have been friends for so long that there’s hardly anything you can do to offend each other, or so you think.
The next message rolls in and everything is clicking, your brain moving like clockwork as everything comes back into place and your memory is clearer than day on a sunny morning.
Jimin Park that ass [12:48pm]
if you want me to talk to Yoongi and tell him i was just kidding whne i said you have a crush on him ill do it, i’ll convince him its not true
It’s as if you hadn’t even drunk last night, your memory sharper than ever with the scene replaying in your mind, the reel rewinding and playing over and over again, taunting you in your embarrassment and dread.
Yoongi knows you like him. Yoongi knows you like him. Min fuckin’ Yoongi knows that you like him.
It’s the only thought that goes through your brain, unable to process anything else because oh my god Min Yoongi knows, he knows!
You decide you’ll deal with Jimin later, suppressing all violent urges to march over to his house and ring his neck like a rag, and instead you simply hold down the power button on your phone until the device shuts down. The phone is released from your hand, landing with a loud thud on the floor, unable to care at this point and you let your eyelids flutter shut, taking a deep breath in an attempt to rid yourself of the tension that is pinching every single one of your nerve endings. Breathe in, breathe out, you tell yourself, but your body tenses and the next thing you know, you’re burying your face in a pillow to muffle the scream that you’re belting out of your lungs; your arms and legs flail around like a fish out of water and you kick your blankets about in a fit of frustration and desperation. The screaming comes to an end and you’re sure the pillow didn’t do much to conceal the sound that reverberates throughout the apartment, but you don’t really care that anyone within the vicinity of the building probably heard you because it’s only Yoongi who you’re self-conscious around and after the whole secretly crushing on him, then not so secretly crushing on him, nothing else really matters.
Laying in bed aimlessly screaming into the void won’t do anything to help your case, so you decide to bite the bullet, face Yoongi once and for all because you’re going to have to eventually, you can’t live your life hiding from your roommate. And who knows, maybe he doesn’t even remember the conversation, or rather, Jimin spewing unfiltered words to no one in particular. Who are you kidding? Of course he remembers. He wasn’t drunk and he isn’t dumb. He knows the truth and there’s nothing you can do to change that.
Creeping out of your room like a burglar in your own home, you keep on your toes, listening for any signs of Yoongi, trying to locate him before making any rash decisions. Biting the bullet quickly turns into trying your best to stay out of sight as you peep down the hall to see his bedroom door is left half open, the way he has it when he’s not inside and you mentally cross off his room from the list in your head of places to avoid. Your eyes travel to the bathroom, but the light is off and there’s no running water to be heard; bathroom: clear. The tension rises as you move further down the hall, sneaking towards the common living space where he’s most likely to be if not in his room, and you can hear your heartbeat pounding in your own ears, the reality of all of this crashing down as you think of what you’ll possibly say to him when you see him. ‘Sorry’? Or maybe ‘Haha fooled you’. Or even better, you won’t say a word, the both of you pretending nothing happened as you slowly drift apart until the inevitable day comes when you no longer speak, and you are freed from the lease of the apartment and you can move to the other side of the world where you won’t need to worry anymore.
The creaking floorboard beneath your foot brings your attention back to the task at hand and you freeze in your spot, hoping you haven’t been caught. There’s no call of your name or wary ‘who’s there’, and now that you think about it, there’s no other sound other than your shallow breathes and you realize that it’s much too quiet for Yoongi to even be home. This gives you the courage to move faster as you poke your head into the living room, finding the TV off and the couch untouched; whipping your attention to the kitchen, the only sign of life even passing through the space is a coffee mug left on the counter. You visibly relax when the still room confirms Yoongi is no where to be found and your stiff muscles are loosening in relief; at least this will buy you some time to figure out what you can possibly do to remedy the situation.
Your steps are less calculated and your demeanor less apprehensive; you can finally walk through your home as if you own the place, because well, you do. The fridge is where you head to first, grabbing a glass of water to cure the dehydration you’re sure is plaguing your body from the amount of alcohol consumed the night before. Next on your To-Do list is shower, you just want to wash away the filth you feel from last night and you hope that the mess that clouds your mind will be able to rise with the steam, clearing your head so you can spend a moment in peace.
Your moment of peace doesn’t last long once you’ve wiped away the fog from the mirror and you’re returning to your room to throw on an oversized sweater. It’s when you’re already one step from the kitchen that you hear keys jingle at the door, the lock clicks and panic crawls your skin; you’re trapped like a deer frozen in headlights and maybe if you run you can make it back to your room before he steps inside, but your brain and body forget how to function and you’ve gone from a deer in highlights to a deer plucked right out of its habitat because acting natural is the last thing you’re doing right now.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow when he catches you scampering around like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing and a forced smile is all you can muster in return.
“Um, hi?” he says once he’s stepped into the apartment, throwing his keys aside and toeing his shoes off.
He has a plastic bag in his hand but you can hardly pay attention to that because you’re dumbstruck by his simple attire of black jeans and a plain white tee, the clothing adorning his body in a way that makes him look like he just walked out of a magazine and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on his collar bones that poke out from his loose shirt. Your gaze continues to trace his every feature, working your way up to take note of the cap you bought him last Christmas that has his dark hair pushed back, allowing his brows that are normally hidden behind bangs to nicely frame his face. It’s like you’re in a trance until the naturally pouted lips that have you completely captivated are moving to form words that you don’t quite catch and you shake yourself out of the daze to focus on what he has to say.
“You okay there?” Yoongi asks with the slightest hint of amusement hidden in the arch of his brow.
“I- uh, yeah,” you manage to say, still not completely back to your senses.
“Are you sure? Because you were staring,” he casually mentions as he strolls into the kitchen and places the bag down on the counter.
“No I wasn’t,” you say back too quickly and you mentally slap yourself.
“A little shy, aren’t we?” His tone makes him seem cocky and the lop-sided smile makes it even more so.
Your at a loss for words because although Yoongi’s smugness hardly ever comes as a surprise to you, it has never been aimed directly at you and your mind is in a frenzy as you try to comprehend what’s happening.
“It’s alright,” Yoongi begins when you leave him without a response, “it’s normal to get shy around your crush.” He finishes his sentence with a wink that leaves you gawking at him because never would you have expected Yoongi to be so bold in his actions, playing with your feelings so thoughtlessly.
“Since when were you a douche bag?” is the first sentence you’re able to form since Yoongi stepped through the door, and it’s a damn good one because what has gotten into Yoongi? You’d expect this behaviour from other members of the male species, but not from Yoongi; he’s a close friend, close enough to know which lines not to cross and which buttons not to push. But today something seems to be malfunctioning and you think you need to hire a repair man to fix your friend or maybe you can just get a new one all together.
“Aw, Y/N, I’m just teasing, there’s no need to get upset.”
His words only infuriate you further and you channel all of your anger into your clenched fists, clamping your lips shut to keep you from lashing back and you decide to be the bigger person as you turn on your heel and storm off towards your bedroom.
You don’t make it over the threshold in time to relax and Yoongi is just half a step behind you, calling out to you as you rush through the doorway.
Spinning around to face him, you can’t keep your cool any longer. “Leave me alone, I hate you!” you blurt out, childlike in your manner as you attempt to slam the door shut almost as if you’re a kid all over again and you’re throwing a fit over some silly mishap.
But Yoongi’s reflexes are fast and his hand shoots up in time to halt the door in its tracks, pushing it back open to be face to face with you.
“There’s a thin line between hate and love, darling,” he remarks with a voice as soft as velvet, the words rolling off his tongue so smoothly. You catch the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk before he leans in close, bringing his lips to your ear to say his next words. “And there’s a thin wall between our rooms.”
You can feel your face drain of all colour at the insinuation while simultaneously setting your skin on fire in utter embarrassment and it feels as if your flesh is wax melting off onto the floorboards, seeping into the cracks how you wish you could. The smugness is thick in his voice and it’s clear that he means exactly what you think; your little secret isn’t so secret anymore.
He pulls away just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze intimidating but captivating all at once and you can’t bring yourself to look away. “You really thought I didn’t know? Every little sound, every moan, every time you called out my name – I heard it all, Y/N. It was torture sitting there in my room listening to you touch yourself when it could’ve been me touching you instead.” He pauses, his eyes darkening at his next words. “Tell me, how many fingers did you have inside of you when you were imagining it was me?”
You’re at a loss for words, but what Yoongi has in mind doesn’t need any because instead of saying anymore, he’s leaning down low and tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss that you’ve only ever had in your dreams. Everything stops and you feel like a cliché in a teenage movie; you’re frozen in time and space and the only thing that matters is here and now, you and Yoongi. It takes a moment for you to come back to your senses, realizing that this is actually happening, Yoongi is kissing you right now and you should probably kiss him back.
Snaking your arms around his neck for leverage, Yoongi groans into your mouth when you pull yourself closer to deepen the kiss and his hands automatically find their way around your waist to hold you flush against his body. Eagerness has your lips parting and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to let his tongue slip into your mouth, greedy to get a better taste of you and it’s messy and rushed but perfect in every way. Somehow his hat is on the floor and your fingers thread through his hair, his own fingers finding their way to the hem of your sweater to get under the material; his hands are cold against your flushed skin, heightening the sensation of each of his movements as he rubs and squeezes at your flesh, working his way to your ass. His firm hand massages your bottom and you’re breaking the kiss to moan out in pleasure, your hips buck forward and you begin to grind on the bulge forming in his pants.
The sounds are like music to his ears, not muffled behind closed doors and drywall, but loud and clear as you whimper at his every touch and Yoongi thinks he can get used to this. He’s quick to pepper kisses along your neck, biting and gnawing in all the right places, anything to hear you whimpering and with every moan all that goes through his mind is ‘mine, mine, mine’. He wonders what other noises he can get you make and he’s greedy to find out as soon as possible, hooking his fingers under your sweater to pull the fleece over your head.
Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra beneath the fabric and he stares at you almost in disbelief. “You’ll be the death of me,” Yoongi breathes out, his eyes raking over every curve of your body until a flash of darkness crosses over them and they glaze over in desire. It feels like an eternity with the way he’s looking at you, admiring you, before he’s attacking your lips, hungry for more and he takes a step forward, the two of you stumbling to the other side of the room. This kiss doesn’t last as long because you’re just as impatient as Yoongi and your roaming hands find their way to the hem of his shirt just as the back of your legs come in contact with the mattress and your knees buckle to fall back on the cushion. The eagerness has Yoongi practically ripping the shirt off of his own back before he climbs up on the bed, crawling on top of you as you pull yourself up the length of the bed. Lips lock and you’re chest to chest, skin to skin to finally feel Yoongi against you, touching you in ways you’ve only ever imagined.
Yearning for more, you’re no longer in control of your body when your hips begin to move against his, looking for any kind of relief from the aching desire deep within your core. The dry humping is short lived when Yoongi’s grip is pinning your hips to the mattress and his lips break away from yours to trail down your jaw, neck, and chest; licking and sucking every part of your exposed skin. The hand on your hip doesn’t hesitate to find its way to your panty clad cunt, and your mind almost goes blank when Yoongi’s thumb begins to massage your clit through the fabric. You’ve long ago soaked through the material and Yoongi can’t hide his satisfaction that has a hum leaving his lips once he’s face to face with the cotton that clings to your folds with your arousal.
“Yoongiiiiii,” you whine out in the way you’ve done so many nights before.
His eyes flash up at you and you can see the way he’s riled up, desire flaring in his irises. “Say it again,” he says almost as a demand with his voice lowering and you don’t hesitate to whimper out his name when he’s puts more pressure on your clit, rubbing harsh circles into the bundle of nerves.
‘Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi,’ escapes your lips in between heavy breaths and the sound alone has him worked up almost as much as you although you’ve yet to lay a finger on him. Yoongi’s patience wears thinner and thinner with each moan of his name until it’s non-existent and he rids you of your panties in seconds, finally getting a look at your bare body in all its glory.
A single finger slides up your slit, collecting the juices that are already leaking out and all you want to do is shy away when Yoongi puts the digit in his mouth to get a taste, but his grip on your thigh keeps your legs open and exposed for him. He sucks it clean as if your arousal is the most delicious thing he has ever had the pleasure to taste on his tongue and the sight sends shivers down your spine; a lick of his lips and a flash of a smirk are the last things you see before his face is buried between your legs and you feel as if every tension in your body is being released. You gasp out at the sudden sensation of Yoongi’s mouth on your folds and your eyes screw shut while your fingers get tangled in his hair. He runs his tongue up and down your slit, getting lost in the taste until he stops at your clit, licking and sucking in a way that has you mewling beneath him. His fingers find their way to your entrance and there’s no more time for teasing because he pushes two in without warning and the stretch feels so good you’re tugging at Yoongi’s hair, pulling him closer if that’s even possible, before grinding into his face. This has him growling against you and the vibration mixed with the quick thrusting of his fingers almost has you losing it.
With a cry of his name, you’re clenching around nothing when he pulls his fingers out from your walls; his jaw slackens and tongue flattens, and he lets you ride out your high on his face, drowning him in your cum that he’s eager to lick up.
Exhaustion washes over you almost as hard as your orgasm did and you release your hold on Yoongi, your body going limp as your bones and muscles feel as if they are melting into the mattress. You fight off the forces that anchor your body, that’s more Jell-O than human, to the bed just enough to lift your head and find Yoongi peeking up at you. His rounded eyes make him look cute despite the aftermath of your climax smeared across his face and he looks so innocent it’s almost deceiving. Yoongi keeps his curious gaze locked on yours as he leans down and licks one big swipe up your slit, mischievousness creeping its way onto his face as you wriggle around at the uncomfortable sensation of overstimulation.
“Yoongi, stoppppp,” you playfully whine, dragging out the syllables as he continues with kitten licks in between his lighthearted laughter. Your legs lock around his head in hopes of hampering his movement, but his fingertips poking at your sides in light tickles have you loosening your grip enough for him to move.
“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he says, his voice losing all playfulness and going back to gruff and husky with an undertone of lust.
Yoongi sits up on his knees, lifting your legs with him and your ankles lock behind his neck as he manages to maneuver out of his pants.
Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking, desperate for attention that you’ll very gladly give it. He takes his member in his hand and you swallow hard as he slowly pumps it, watching as the bead of pre-cum drips from the tip and his thumb rolls it over his head.
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you have a taste later,” Yoongi says smugly, and you have to forcefully break your stare away from his dick to meet his eyes. You’re all but drooling and with the way he stares at you with a cocky smirk pulling at his lips, you know your every thought is written across your face.
Having enough of the chit chat, Yoongi leans in closer with you legs still in the air, practically folding you in half, and if you knew you’d be testing your flexibility today, you definitely would have stretched before hand. Your legs rest on his shoulders and he groans in approval when he sees your cunt glistening for him once more; it’s not surprising that you’re wet already with all the filthy thoughts of his cock going straight to your core.
Yoongi’s breath comes out heavy when finally there’s contact between his tense member and your slick folds and he can no longer restrain himself, positioning his head at your entrance and giving you a moment’s notice before he’s slamming into you. It’s as if the wind has been knocked out of you and you grasp at the sheets to ground yourself because if you thought the stretch of his fingers was otherworldly, this sends you traveling through space and time to another dimension. There’s no holding back the cries of pleasure that pour from your lips when he begins to thrust and you yell out his name in ways you only wished you could every time you were tucked away between closed doors, fingers buried within yourself, calling out to him in a soundless whimper. But there’s no holding back for you or Yoongi, moaning out his name relentlessly as he responds in the form of grunts each time his hips collide with your skin, pounding into you like he’s a starved man and you’re his saving grace.
Your second orgasm comes as a tsunami, as if the ocean floor is cracking open and unleashing the sheer force of the natural disaster in the form of unmeasurable bliss. The sun and moon play tug of war with every gravitational pull and waves of pleasure surge through your body with each roll of his hips, leaving you to float off into oblivion as Yoongi chases his own high that has long pushed him over the edge, hardly grasping at reality when his seed fills you and slick, lewd sounds mix in between heavy breathes and uncontrolled moans.
Exhaustion hits you hard once the adrenaline dies down and Yoongi is practically dead weight curled around your body in a way that conveys so much innocence that it’s almost unbelievable that this is the same man that a few moments earlier was balls deep within you. His head rests on your breasts and the warm air that leaves his lips with each breath tickles your skin; the arm that is strewn carelessly across your hips tightens around you and you peer down to find Yoongi staring up at you.
“How long?” he asks after a moment of silently gazing at each other.
Your question of ‘how long what?’ is heard unsaid and he’s replying instantly.
“How long since you started touching yourself to the thought of me?”
The words sound vulgar now that your body has drained of all arousal and you’re returning to the shy mess you were earlier.
“Mmm,” you ponder for a moment with your lips pressed together; there’s really nothing to lose at this point. “A few months probably? Maybe more?” you say unsurely, but you’re not unsure at all, you remember very vividly when this began and you could tell him an exact date if he asked. “It was that day I accidentally… walked in on you naked.”
Except you didn’t really walk in on him, you more of ripped the sheets off of his bare body after barging into the room.
8:36. Shit. You slept through your alarms (stress on the ‘s’ because you set approximately 6 different alarms to avoid this exact situation). You bolt up from your bed that’s still scattered with notes from your late-night study session and flail around the room in a panic trying to collect your books and yourself. 8:41. You’ve managed to get semi-clean clothes on your body and a toothbrush in your mouth. Your school bag is slung over your shoulder and you burst into Yoongi’s room without a second thought. It’s a 10 minute drive to campus, Yoongi will take 6 minutes to get out of bed and make sense of your uncoherent squabbling, 1 minute for the elevator to get you to the garage where his car is parked; leaving you with 2 minutes to spare before exam papers are slapped down on your desk and the ‘no talking or you get a zero’ rule is implemented.
Still running numbers through your head, you frantically call out to Yoongi who is sound asleep while reaching for the blanket that has him tucked in. Your hand balls around the fabric and you tear it away from his sleeping form in one swift movement. One second you’re trying to figure out if you’ll make it to school in time to write your exam and the next, you’re staring point-blank at Yoongi’s erect cock.
Morning wood is no where close to being a new concept to you, it’s an odd, but natural occurrence that you came to terms with at some point between middle school and high school when you woke up next to your best friend, accusing him of being a pervert. But here and now? It’s a completely different situation. Yoongi, not only your roommate but also your long-term crush, can get you hot and bothered by just coming home sweaty after a workout. You’ve been able to suppress all the dirty thoughts that creep into your mind late at night, but naked Yoongi in your imagination is nothing close to naked Yoongi in real life. As much as you wish you could stand there and admire him in all his glory, the sight leaves you flustered, blushing violently when Yoongi startles awake and you apologize profusely, not looking back as you run out of the room.
You take an Uber to school and barely manage to make it through your exam without the image of Yoongi popping up in your mind every other question. You take the long way home, getting off the bus a few stops early to aimlessly walk through the park, stopping to buy coffee from the cozy shop on the corner, only returning home once you’re sure Yoongi is not there. That night, when the naughty images seep into your thoughts, you don’t have the willpower to deny it any longer and Yoongi’s name slips from your lips when your fingers slip into your walls.
“So I could’ve been listening to you moan my name for months?” Yoongi questions, shock and disappointment crossing his features all at once. “And here I thought I stumbled across a gold mine a few weeks ago when I heard you through the walls.”
Neither of you say anymore and the room falls silent save for the shallow breaths that have your chests rising and falling in sync. Yoongi stays wrapped around you and you begin to feel sleep heavy on your eyelids until he’s speaking again.
“How long?” he questions once again and confusion crosses your features because didn’t you just answer that question? “How long have you had this crush?” he clarifies.
This question, you’re not so quick to answer, feeling embarrassed and shy that he’s even bringing it up. It somehow feels more intimate than the last question and you weren’t planning to confess to him like this (you weren’t planning to confess to him at all if you’re being honest). It seems silly that your skin still flushes under the weight of his gaze after everything that just happened, but you can’t help it and you avert your eyes trying to collect your thoughts.
“I don’t know,” you mumble after a moment, needing to give him some sort of answer even if it’s inadequate and you’re positive he can hear the way your heart races in your chest, fluttering away with nerves and timidity.
Yoongi is perceptive and your silence on the matter is a clear indicator that this crush has been going on longer than you care to admit, not to mention the way your heart pounds beneath where his head rests, sounding like there’s a marching band making its rounds in your rib cage.
“Don’t tell me that not only could I have been listening to you moan out my name for months, but I also could’ve been dating you for months?” The question is rhetorical with the revelation of your well-kept secret and instantly, implications of his words have you dizzy with a million thoughts whirling around in your mind.
Before you can get any words out to ask for clarification, frantically searching your brain that’s a muddled mess for a coherent sentence, there’s a loud knock at the front door and you instantly freeze, the sudden intrusion startling you. Yoongi is thinking on the same wavelength as you when he stills, as if the slightest movement will tip off whoever’s at the door that you two are indeed home. The knocking persists and despite the blush that seems to permanently paint your skin pink, there is nothing in this world that can bring you to leave Yoongi’s arms.
‘Y/N!’ you hear being called and you groan for what feels like an eternity before reaching for Yoongi’s wrist to remove his arm from your waist.
Yoongi only resists, tightening his hold on you, “can’t we just pretend we’re not home?”
‘Y/N, open the door!’ Your best friend’s voice travels through the walls in between the pounding of his fist on the wood and you sincerely wish it was that simple.
“This is Jimin we’re talking about, he’s not going to leave,” you inform Yoongi, knowing your friend all too well.
“It’s not like he’ll know that we’re here,” Yoongi counters, trying to find anyway to convince you to stay here wrapped up in your own little world where you and he are the only thing that matters.
‘I know you’re in there! Y/N, please!’
You look at Yoongi pointedly, “I’m only ever at home or at his place, there’s no getting out of this.” And although you’ve made your point, you’re reluctant to leave the arms that you’ve spent countless hours day dreaming about.
“Okay, how about you get rid of him, and I draw us a bath?” he proposes with a soft smile finding its way to his lips.
They way he says ‘us’ has your heart going through another frenzied fit of fluttering and Yoongi chuckles at your reaction that you don’t even bother to hide. You squeak out a small ‘okay’ and the smile he gives you in return is breathtaking, heartwarming in the way his pearly whites and pink gums show nothing but pure joy.
Yoongi shifts to press the softest of kisses to the skin between your breasts and untangles his limbs from yours, “see you soon, doll face.”
He’s already on his feet, strolling out the door before he can witness the way you squirm in the sheets and if he wasn’t on the other side of a piece of drywall, you’d be squealing into a pillow in delight, feeling like you’re dancing on the clouds with the world at your feet.
Jimin all but drops to his knees when you swing the door open, begging for forgiveness as he apologizes over and over for his big mouth that causes nothing but trouble. You have to laugh at that because his big mouth has done quite the opposite this time around and you tell him you’re not mad, trying to convince him that you truly mean it and you usher him back out the door as you let him know you have something to tell him later. With a quick hug, you’re closing the door, a small ‘thank you’ slipping from your lips, leaving him to stare at you in confusion for the split second before the door clicks shut and you’re turning around to run back to Yoongi.
The small space is filled with steam and Yoongi greets you from the tub, already submerged in the hot water with bubbles foaming around his body. A smile breaks across his face when you enter the room and he holds out a hand, waiting for you to join him as you rid yourself of the sweater you threw on to answer the door. You take his hand and step into the tub, settling between his legs as warmth envelopes your body in the form of limbs and water and everything good.
Bubbles tickle your toes and it feels as if you’re melting in delight; your back is to Yoongi’s chest, your head lolled back to rest on his shoulder and he nuzzles your neck, peppering your skin with featherlight kisses. It’s all so surreal and if someone had told you yesterday that you’d be taking part in such affectionate activities with Yoongi, you would’ve laughed in their face at the absurdity. But as dreamlike as it may seem, the arms wound tightly around your waist are too secure to be an illusion wrapped up in your subconscious and the lips on your neck, the nibbles on your ear are too gentle, too soft, too wonderous and unimaginable to be something conceived within the confinements of your own mind. You’re living out your every dream and with the way Yoongi silently hums in content as he holds you close, tracing your skin, he’s living out his too.
#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#yoongi smut#yoongi scenarios#suga smut#suga scenarios#bts smut#bts scenarios#min yoongi#min suga#i didnt get a chance to edit this so sorry for any mistakes!!!#oh gosh i dont know how this ended up 6k#i just wanted to write about yoongs#20
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triggers: referenced transphobia, abuse, attempted sexual violence
The Typical Basics
What is your real, birth name? Any nicknames?
What the fuck kind of question is that? No, no nicknames. And Francis. Francis Fehler. You’re not getting me to say it, I’m not deadnaming myself for your dumb ass.
When and where were you born?
Fort Gibson, the oldest town in Oklahoma. Born there on June 23rd, 1998 at two somethin’ in the A.M.
What is your ethnicity (their racial/cultural group) and nationality (what country were they born in)?
I dunno. Some shade of white, I don’t really keep too connected to my parents, they have all of that information. If they do. If not, well. Either way I’m shit out of luck. I’m American born.
What is your Myers-Briggs Personality Type? (If you don’t know go here, this question is optional.)
ENTP-A, The Debater.
What do you look like? (Include height, weight, hair, eyes, skin, apparent age, and distinguishing features)
I’m nineteen, five foot seven, Dunno what I weigh, probably one-thirty, one-fifty. Brown hair, brown eyes, curls when it gets long enough. Pale but not pasty. Got a few birthmarks, moles or whatever. And gauges.
In your opinion, what is your best feature?
My acidit wit.
Familial Questions
What is/was your family structure like? (i.e. are you adopted, how many siblings, pets, etc.)
I had a dog, name was Rusty. And an outside cat that my dad tried to shoot once. Her name was Oscar. Um. I had two older brothers, and both parents.
Who was your father, and what was he like? Who was your mother, and what was she like? What was your parents marriage like? Were they married? Did they remain married?
My dad’s first love was Yuengling. And his second love was the NRA. I think the only thing after my mom on his list was me. My mother was a trailer park kid who wanted to be a Stepford wife when she grew up. And I guess the only thing in the way of that was me. Not the drunk husband or abusive son or anything. They’re still married, far as I know. Don’t think they’ve got anything better lined up yet.
Do you have any siblings? If so, what are/were your siblings names? What are/were they like?
My oldest brother was named Scott, and the middle brother’s Boone. Last time I saw Scott he was using performance enhancers trying to get to college ‘cause he couldn’t do it with his brain, and his girl was goin’ all the way up to Ohio State. Boone’s just an asshole. He’s gonna be a pastor or a politician, and we won’t know either way until he fucks some dude in a bathroom.
Who are your closest friend(s)? Describe them and how you relate to them. If not, do you wish you did? Is there anyone you wish they could build such a relationship with?
Um. I mean, obviously Stuart, Gemma, Manny, Rosa. The circus gang as a whole, they’re family. Way more family than mine ever was. And I’m grateful for that. They’re all a guy could need.
What is your relationship status? If you’re not single, who are you with? Describe them and how you two met and what your relationship is like with them? If you have a crush, feel free to describe them as well.
I’m single. Um… Yeah. Nothing to report.
What Is Your Opinion On…
Rant about that’s eating you up.
Okay. Free pass. I’ll take it.
Some dumb fucker on the bus this morning asked me why I was so fuckin’ short. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly Shaq, but I’m lookin’ around and there are guys all over the damn place out there looking like honest to god beer cans, so I look at him and ask, you know, “Is there some kind of a problem here? It’s not like I’m even the shortest guy here, what’d I take your seat or somethin’?” And don’t get me wrong, in retrospect - you know, hindsight is 20/20 - in retrospect the signs were all there, this was an older gentleman, whatever, had that look. I just wasn’t ready for it, I didn’t even have my coffee yet this mornin’. He asks me again, I ask again why it matters, he says it just does. So I just make some shit up about not getting my protein, who fuckin’ cares, it ain’t even seven in the morning yet, and what does this ugly fucker say to me?
“I bet I could help you with that.”
Fuckin’ unbelievable.
What would/would’ve make you drop college/university?
Finding something better.
Are humans better at creation or destruction?
I don’t think there’s any one way people are better at than the other. There are all types, and we never really move in one direction or the other. Just try to fix shit and fail. So both. We fuck ourselves over, see?
If you could sum up humans in 3 words, what would they be?
Messy irritating fucksticks.
Are some lives more valuable than others?
I’m supposed to say no, right? Because yeah. Of course there are lives more valuable than others. If you had to run into a burning building, and you could go in two doors, alright? Behind one door is a baby, behind the other is some dude who killed five babies. You can only save one before the building collapses, you’re gonna save the baby. Because you’re not an idiot. So yeah, of course they do.
Do you believe there is good in everybody?
I believe there’s good in everybody to start. I do think some people burn it all out of themselves though.
Would you ever turn on someone you just met in order to save themselves?
Remember the baby killer? Could be that guy. I don’t know. So yeah, I’d leave them to fend for themselves. If the universe takes ‘em instead of me, that’s on the universe.
Which of the seven deadly sins do you most embody?
Probably wrath. I have a little bit of a temper.
If you were omnipotent for just one day, what change would you make in the world?
I’d hopefully make it at least a little bit less shitty. I dunno. If I could snap my fingers and make people less stupid, I guess that. Help us all out for the longrun.
Tapping Into The Psyche
What is your biggest fear and why?
Abandonment. I’ve got a whole family’s worth of daddy issues. Manifesting in daddy, mommy, and bro-y issues.
What makes you really angry? Be honest.
… Everything? A lot? Stupid people?
What is something unforgivable that could destroy a relationship?
Misgendering me to my face is a once in a lifetime experience.
What’s one experience you had that made you very afraid?
I got caught in the wrong place. Had a smoke at the wrong time. Thought things were going to be fun, thought I was having a good time making jokes with this guy. He asked some weird questions, I gave some weird answers, thirty minutes down the line, Rosa was the Incredible Hulk, he almost didn’t have a dick, and I was crying on a sidewalk corner, so. That probably tops the charts.
What does it take to make you cry?
A whole lot more than a sad song and chopped onions. You could make yourself cry easier than you could get me to.
Would society call you a good guy or a bad guy? What would you say you are?
I’d be down with either, long as society’s calling me a guy. I don’t know, though. It depends. If I like you, I’m a good guy. If I don’t, I’m probably not the best.
Have you ever committed a crime, or something you felt was wrong? What was it?
I stole deodorant once. I was in a hurry and couldn’t find the shop owner. So sorry about that, whoever was one short on deodorant next inventory. Boys are smelly.
Do you hold grudges?
With abandon.
Does you have a deep and/or dark secret? If so, what is it?
… These questions seem loaded, every now and then, you know that?
No. No deep, dark secrets. I have my secrets, and I share them when I feel like it.
Do you like to suffer? Like to see other people suffering?
No? Who wants to do either of those things? I’m just trying to make it through to the weekend, I figure everybody is.
Are you more physically or emotionally strong? Why do you believe so?
Emotionally, 'cause I haven’t found the right gym to get me on my way to the biceps of my dreams like all of the posters say.
Have you ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are you the same as you were before you lost them?
Yeah. Uncle Ty. Uh. No, probably not. I’d probably still be at home if he was there. But shit happens, right?
What do you want to be remembered for after you die?
Being fucking hilarious.
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Can’t Sleep Love by Pentatonix
Written by Lissy (well-of-night on tumblr) in collaboration with the lovely Ashley (smashleyed on tumblr). This work wouldn’t be possible without you beta-ing me, thank you so much! xoxo
Tell me, am I going crazy?
I have gone absolutely bat-shit insane. I thought this brand of crazy could only found in one Mr. Probably-A-School-Shooter Connor Murphy, but nope! I’ve literally never been this wrong in my entire life.
It all started, as most things do for me, as a joke.
I had stupidly decided to drag Evan to a small party a friend of a friend of an acquaintance of Alana’s was having. It would satisfy Heidi’s desire for Evan to go out more, and Evan would keep me sane until I found some booze.
It was a win-win for everyone, you know? Well. Except Evan. The poor dude gravitated to the first empty seat he could find as soon as we got there, and I don’t really think I saw him for most of the party, which was fine, I guess.
So I was sitting in this circle of idiots who have fun with party games, especially drinking games. Booze should be fun, and I always start the games, so I’m kind of the captain of these idiots, even if they don’t accept me as their amazing leader because they barely know who I am when they’re sober. Which is fine. Drunk party friends and regular sober friends shouldn’t ever mingle anyway.
We were playing truth or dare. If you were too coward to fess up or do your dare, you drank. If you did your dare or told your truth, your challenger drank. I was pretty smashed, so everything I said and did was pure stupidity. But then again, when is it not, right? It fell upon Zoe Murphy to challenge someone, and she naturally picks me, the awesome team leader who hadn’t been picked at all yet.
But Jared, you may be asking, how were you drunk if no one had picked you to challenge or anything? Well, I had made up my own side drinking game. Basically, whenever I felt too sober, I took a shot.
That did the trick pretty well.
So Zoe picks me and she puts up an offer that I couldn’t refuse, sober or drunk.
“I’ll give you a truth and a dare. If you can do both, I’ll drink and give you a twenty.” she said, her eyes sparkling with something I’d call devilish delight. I didn’t even think twice. Hell, I didn’t think once. I accepted gleefully, not even considering that maybe she had a plan or something.
“Truth or dare,” she prompted, and I very stupidly but very proudly said truth. She grinned at this, as if she anticipated my answer. The Murphys are fucking weird, I’m just saying, so maybe she did know what I’d pick first.
“Would you date Evan Hansen?” she asked. Now that I look back on it, she was pretty drunk too, and the circle had been conspiring for a while without me really giving it much thought. So this was a group effort. Not just a Zoe Murphy thing. Probably. A shitty group thing to do, really, since it’s got me re-evaluating my entire fucking life.
It was at this point I kind of gave Evan a glance. He was cowering in a corner, except he was on a sofa that was nowhere near the corner of the room. He was doing something on his shitty off-brand phone, probably playing SNAKE, knowing his social life.
Now. anyone with a brain could probably tell that hell yes, I would. Anyone with a brain could tell you I adored Evan. Maybe it was because of how I totally zone out while he’s talking about trees and try to draw constellations on his faces using only his freckles and my mind, and my face maybe looks a little dumb while I do it.
A smart person would be able to identify that I was super into Evan Hansen, what with my insisting on hanging out with him and asking him about trees just to get him going, or how I say stupid shit just to get him all red in the face…
Any smart person with even something akin to one brain cell would know I was super gay for Evan and that my gay ass just didn’t notice it. And, well, I think we all know by now, I am not the smartest in the bunch.
My drunken self, however, did not go on to reevaluate his entire existence until he was sober, which is right now. No,no, drunk me grinned. Drunk me beamed and slurred, “yeah, I guess, he’s pretty cute.”
Zoe Murphy grinned, and it was almost like watching Satan himself smile up at me. “Now, I dare you to go tell him that.”
And me, being the stupid broke ass I am, stumbled to get up, and waltzed over to Evan.
Now, this part of the night is a little tricky. It was shortly after this that shit gets blackout drunk kinds of foggy. But I remember asking Evan how he was, and he stuttered back a very uncomfortable lie about how he was good and what not. The only thing I remember clearly is his reaction. I don’t know how I worded it, or if I even said it, but all I remember is Evan turning bright red. His eyes wide and his mouth agape, ready to say something that he’d never say. Or maybe he did say.
And all I remember thinking before shit got foggy was how fucking adorable he looked all stunned and red-faced like that.
Now, a week ago, if you had told me I would be realizing how deep I was in this, this gay-for-Evan-Hansen-hole, I would’ve called you crazy. I would’ve said, “fuck you, man, I’m a gay asshole but not like that!” or something dumb. I mean, I’m gay as fuck. I own fourteen different kinds of pride flags, for fuck’s sake.
But I just got over a hangover and the first thing I fucking realized after that migraine went away and I could actually function again was something I’d never picture myself thinking or saying or even feeling.
I’m gay for Evan.
Am I just afraid of loving?
Okay, so after that weird gay revelation, I’ve been, like, avoiding Evan. It’s super shitty of me, but fuck! What am I supposed to do? Just prance around, hanging out with Evan like I hadn’t called him cute while smashed at a crappy teen kegger and holding myself back from telling him how nice he looks in blue, the color he wears basically every day? Fuck that.
I’m basically running from my gay thoughts, and I’m already winded as fuck. I’m no athlete, believe me, and somehow even metaphorical exercise is tiring. Note to self: do something about that.
It’s been like a week-ish since the party, and I haven’t talked to Evan “Ecosexual” Hansen since. Ecosexuals are apparently people attracted to trees, I saw an article about it. Almost sent it to Evan, just for shits and giggles. But then I remembered that would be a shitty thing to do after a week of not talking to him.
I have about 117 unread messages from Evan– oh shit, scratch that. As of not even five seconds ago, I’ve got 118 unread messages from Evan. He hasn’t stopped texting me since the party. I’ve seen the little previews, it’s all “Are you okay, Jared?” “What did I do, Jared?” “Please text me back I’m worried, Jared.”
This is actually hell. But, honestly? What am I supposed to do? I don’t want to chase him off with all my gay shit, even though he knows I’m gay. But you try telling a straight guy you’re gay for him! He’ll probably tell me to fuck off or something, in the way only Evan could: kind of polite and super terrified, and that’s the last thing I want. Because, you know, I still want to be his friend and all. I give him shit but I like having him around, you know? Telling him I like him would be a lose-lose situation anyway.
Maybe I just need to cool off some more. Maybe in another week, I can pretend I don’t think Evan’s laugh makes me want to a punch a wall so I can feel something besides butterflies in my stomach because fuck his laugh is the cutest thing and… where was I going with that?
Oh yeah.
If I pretend hard enough, maybe we can hang out again. I’ll shove my shit so far into the closet, it’ll be having tea with Mr. Tumnus in Narnia. Because I can’t like Evan like that, he’s my friend, my family friend to make matters worse! That shit’s off limits, it’s like trying to date your cousin, and I’m way too up north to even be thinking about that shit.
Whoops. There goes messages number 119 and 120. I really should text back, he might have a fucking panic attack by the time he reaches 150, if he hasn’t already. Maybe I can just tone it down with the whole liking him thing, it can’t be that hard. It’s not like he’ll figure out I wasn’t joking, because that’s me! Always joking! My initials are literally JK, just kidding, I mean… I can play it off as a joke. I have to because the alternative is telling him and I don’t think I can handle that rejection.
I have to play it off as a drunken joke. I’ve just gotta be insanely cool about it. Just… chill out and pretend I’m not into him like that. I’m gonna text him back now, something like “yeah, dude, I’m okay, didn’t see your messages, all 120 of them! Haha weird right?” Well, maybe not that last bit. I’ll make up some bullshit excuse like “Oh, my phone was on silent” and play it so cool. So very cool.
I think I can do this.
Keeps me up all night
I can’t fucking do this. I thought it’d be super easy to just pretend, just like I do with all the other shit in my life, but nope! Not happening! Fuck!
My little “fake it till I make it significantly less gay” plan lasted not even a week. It was going good, you know? I was hanging out with Evan at school, we talked like normal, whatever.
And then on Thursday, he asked if he could sleep over Friday. He was all stuttery and red and wouldn’t stop messing with his shirt, so I said “sure, why not, I’ve got nothing to do.” Which was a lie because I’ve got so much fucking homework but… I mean, Evan almost never asked to hang out! This was such a rare thing, I had to jump on it. I wish “it” meant his dick, but alas. BAD JOKE, I KNOW, NOT AT ALL HELPFUL TO IGNORING MY GAY SHIT, MOVING ON.
So for the rest of that day, I was super stressed. I even cleaned my room that night, and I unearthed my Wii so we could play some Mario Kart and I even found my SD card with Project M on it (the superior of all the Smash games, and it isn’t even really Nintendo!). I went to bed at like 9, which is… pretty fucking early on my standards, especially on a school night. What can I say? I just wanted it to be Friday already.
I swear to fuck, I walked into school and all I remember is Evan. Walking to class with Evan, Evan talking about some tree or something, Evan asking me if he could just come right to my house with me… I was super zoned the fuck out. I don’t know if it was because I actually got sleep for once, or because my brain thought: Hey, you know how to make the sleepover come faster? Space the fuck out! It’s foolproof!
(I’m writing this on my school computer so if I get fucking blocked for writing about an idiot’s gay crush on a guy who likes trees more than he probably likes his “family friend”, I’m suing)
The school day ended as quickly as it started, and I walked out of class and pretty much crashed into Evan. Which is fucking weird, because he was supposed to be on the other side of the school and the bell had just rung. Not even he was that fast a walker. But whatever, he was there. He probably got out of class early or some shit, who knows how, it’s not like he had the balls to ask a teacher to let him go to the bathroom, let alone leave class early.
Anyway. We walked together to my car, and at some point between my class and the main exit, Evan had latched onto me, his hands grasping lamely at my sleeve, and it’s not that I minded it at all, because he was probably just grounding himself or some weird Evan shit, but I kind of needed to get my keys and he was just preventing that from happening. I said something like “Can I get my arm back?” in my playful, not-trying-to-be-an-asshole way, and he dropped my arm like it was fucking on fire. He stuttered out an apology as I got out my keys, typical Evan shit.
I let him know it was okay, with a “whatever” or a “it’s cool”. This shit happened like 12 hours ago, so excuse my lame ass for not having word for word accounts of what went down. We got to my house, I offered him something to eat, same old routine as always. He rejected my offering of food, I urged him to fucking eat something, he eventually did. We ate Totino’s pizza rolls because I’m a fucking sellout.
And then we went up to my room, and I shit you not, all we did was play video games. For fucking 10 hours. Well, that’s bullshit. We sat around and talked too, when Evan was complaining about his hands cramping up from playing. He told me he was happy we were hanging out like this, I agreed. I asked him how therapy was going, and he mumbled an “okay I guess”.
I didn’t even realize it was Saturday until Evan fell asleep. He had gotten tired of playing, and we were just sitting on my bed, so I was playing on my computer and he was watching. And then I felt his weight kinda shift and his head? Was on my fucking shoulder. Like. Fuck.
I kept playing, though! What else was I gonna do? Tell him “hey bro get your head off my shoulder it’s giving me a case of the Gays”? No!
And then I heard him snoring. It wasn’t any of that bullshit loud snoring, but this soft, barely audible snoring? That’s when I got the sense to check the time. It was fucking 2am. No wonder he passed out! He was like an old lady, he always slept at 10 or some shit. And he didn’t even say anything!
So. We arrive at the present. In which I am too scared to move because I might wake him up. he’s really warm. I’m so tired, but I can’t go to sleep because I’d have to get up and put my laptop away and then get comfortable and that’d probably wake his ass up. plus, he looks so peaceful
I’m not sleeping tonight, am I? Oh well, whatever. It’s worth it as long as he sleeps well. What the fuck is my problem, oh my God. I can accept being super gay for Evan, but c’mon. I gotta draw the line at “giving more of a shit about his sleep than mine”. I deserve sleep too.
But maybe just for tonight… I’ll pull a fucking all nighter. Just for tonight, and just because Evan passed out on me. This is a one-time thing. He will not keep me up all night every night! Jared Kleinman deserves his fucking sleep!
I can’t do it anymore
Dear Evan Hansen,
Today’s going to be a good day and here’s why. You woke up with Jared next to you. Not in a creepy weird way, but… you fell asleep on him? And he passed out and fell back and you went along with him so you kind of were cuddling and it-
It felt really nice.
I came to terms with how I felt about Jared a long time ago, but never wanted to act on it. But I was too obvious, people noticed, people like Zoe noticed. Then the party happened. I didn’t want to go, but Jared almost begged me to go and I just ended up tagged along.
But then he got hammered. I’ve never been a fan of alcohol? It messes with the medication and all, so it’s something I steer clear of. Jared was off playing some dumb drinking game, ignoring me, and I was plotting an escape, estimating how long it would take me to walk home. And then Jared stood up from his game and stumbled over to the sofa where I had been sitting.
“Hey, Evan,” he slurred, and the smell of his gross booze breath made me gag.”How you doin?” I shifted a bit in my seat, because the correct answer was awful, I only came to hang out with you and instead I’m hanging out with the sofa in a house full of drunk people who probably hate me why am I even here Jared? So, instead, I managed a “I’m doing okay. And you?” He grinned.
“M good… okay, so, Zoe wants me to tell you that I think… you’re really cute an’.. I’d totally date you.” It suddenly felt like 20 degrees hotter, my hands got all clammy and my face heated up. “Jared, you’re drunk,” I said, and he just laughed. “Hi, drunk, I’m gay,” he responded, which made zero sense, but-
This was the problem, being around Jared. I can never tell what’s serious and what’s a joke and it is just so upsetting because maybe he’s kidding when he insists we’re just family friends but what’re the odds of that, you know? I never had the best luck with people, not even Jared. He’s something else, I think. Deep down, he’s not the worst, but…it’s hard to tell when he’s joking or not.
After the party, he kind of avoided me? I got a little… worried. I couldn’t stop texting him. I thought, at the time, maybe I did something wrong. Maybe he was hurt and, and it was freaking me out. He did eventually answer me, and we went back to normal but not really. I caught him staring at me a lot, which wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been staring at him first. I have no idea what that’s even about. My therapist suggested I hang out with Jared, so I kind of invited myself over. And now I’m just.. in his room. He’s making breakfast, I think I hear him humming and everything.
I have never thought I could read Jared that well, he’s kind of unpredictable. And mean. And sneaky. And he has weird eyes, but not bad weird? Definitely a good weird. And he has the cutest bedhead. I.. don’t remember where I was going with that.
I’ll finish writing this later. Or maybe I’ll just rewrite this completely, because no way am I giving Dr. Sherman a letter of me confessing to myself that I’m in love with Jared. Not because liking Jared is bad, I just!! I don’t want Sherman to know? He’ll never let go of it. Ever. He’ll draw some wacko conclusion that I’m anxious because I’m confused or confused because I’m anxious or something that isn’t even true.
I’m a senior with anxiety, too many facts about trees, and a huge crush on the closest thing to a friend I have. He’ll think I’m insane, or demented, or something awful. He’ll tell my mom and Jared’ll find out and I’ll just never ever hear the end of it.
Jared’s calling me to eat. I think he made pancakes. He’s… so adorable.
Sincerely,
Me.
The kind I dream about all day
Holy shit. Holy shit. Okay, so, Evan stayed over, slept on my bed, I made him breakfast, everything was all fine and dandy. I was cleaning up my room, putting shit away, when I found Evan’s laptop. Like. His actual laptop. I didn’t even fucking know he brought it, I was so confused. And then I fucking opened it.
Evan has to write these letters to himself, it’s some therapy thing to help with his anxiety. And he had one open! I wasn’t going to read it, you know, it’s a private thing but then I saw my name and, well, I couldn’t fucking control myself. By the time I had processed it was about me, I had already read like a paragraph and a half.
My brain just fucking fried after reading I came to terms about I felt about Jared a long time ago. Like.. the first little part of his letter made that seem like it had a great connotation to it, you know? A good kind of feeling about me? Right?
So why the fuck am I freaking out that it’s something bad? I don’t have the balls to keep reading; it’s his therapy shit, I can’t just fucking read it! Besides, it’s about the party or some shit. I was there, I don’t need a recap! I really do not have any reason to keep reading Evan’s stupid sex letter to himself. No reason at all.
Okay, I just read the whole fucking thing and HOLY SHIT. Evan has a crush on “the closest thing he has to a friend”. Which, based on the second gayest paragraph I’ve ever read (the first gayest was clearly written by me, somewhere in this shit), means me. Like. Me. Jared Kleinman.
Evan Hansen has a crush on Jared Kleinman. Like. That’s me. It’s not like he has other friends, I mean, I’d know. Plus, the aforementioned second gayest paragraph seals the fucking deal. (Note to self: stop brushing your hair because Evan Fucking Hansen finds your bedhead cute) The real question now is what the fuck do I do with this information?
I know Evan likes me, and that I like Evan. Evan probably suspects I like him? He can’t be that dense. Then again, I’m probably that dense. How didn’t I notice he liked me? He isn’t that secretive about shit, after all. Did the entire fucking world know except me? According to Evan, the answer to that is a huge fucking yes with a capital Y-E-S.
Clearly, I have to return his laptop, right? That’s a valid excuse to talk to him. Just start with the laptop and somehow transition to “I heard you have a super gay crush on me, don’t ask who told me, I also have a huge gay crush on you, let’s be mega gays together.” Real classy. I’m sure that won’t give him a giant panic attack that’ll end up with him breathing into a paper bag.
I’ll just text him. That works, I’ll just send him a little message, it’ll be fine. There, sent. U left ur laptop lol That’s casual! And very me. Probably won’t end in the fucking paper bag. So that’s taken care of. Fuck, I should pack up his laptop in something. Maybe he left his laptop bag too?
Update: he did. I packed everything up and put it in a corner. I’m just gonna walk over to his house, hand over his computer and pretend I don’t know he likes me. He likes me. Evan Hansen likes me. I don’t think I’m ever getting over that? Knowing me, I’ll bring it up. I can’t not bring it up! How do you keep that shit under wraps?!
When your crush likes you, you don’t just sit on that, right? You gotta tell them. I have to tell him. Fuck, I have to tell him. I think I’ve come full circle, how do I tell him? I’ll just.. sit him down. Tell him I like someone and that person is him, and is he okay with that? I’ll talk quick because otherwise he’ll think I’m talking about someone else, but it’s him. It’s always been him.
I’m gonna go return his laptop. Fuck. Wish me luck? I really hope I don’t fuck this up.
Can’t sleep love
Dear Evan Hansen,
Today’s going to be a killer day and here’s why. Tomorrow is our six-month anniversary! Hell yeah! Exciting, right? I can’t fucking believe it’s only been six months. Feels like forever, doesn’t it? Wayy longer than that, but I kept track. I counted and everything.
Six months ago, I showed up to your house with a laptop and told you I liked you. It… fucking took you a while to realize I wasn’t joking. After we cleared that shit up… well. Six months ago, we made out sooo fucking much. Maybe we can do that again sometime? Just saying. (insert :smirk: here)
I literally am staying up writing this, because surprise, I forgot I wanted to do this before now. It’s almost midnight, I’m hoping to finish as soon as it’s our anniversary, and let you find it. Because I’m hilarious.
As I’m writing this, you’re asleep and clinging to me. Like… it’s making writing very hard. Remind me to just be a super sappy asshole next time you’re doing homework with me anywhere around, as payback.
Sometimes, I think long and hard about what the fuck I did to deserve you. I don’t think I have an answer yet, but you make me feel like I should. You make me feel so great, like I am worth attention and shit. I fucking love you for it, and I really hope I do the same for you. I almost hate myself less with you. Granted, it’s hard to stop hating me, so it’s a work in progress.
Where was I going with that? Anyway. I don’t know how you write these things, even to yourself. It’s so difficult. I keep erasing things because once I write them, you know, maybe I can’t take them back. I could just delete this whole thing, but, there’s a point to this.
Evan, I love you. Even if I don’t express it in the best way (in my defense, memes are a good way to express how I feel about you), it’s the truth. I love texting you first thing in the morning and going to the park with you (even if bugs seem to love me way too much) and all that good shit. I love falling asleep with you on the sofa and cuddling and making you get up and go to bed because the sofa is so uncomfortable?? How do you fall asleep on that?? Is it because I’m a kick-ass pillow??
I just love everything about you and I really fucking hope we have more anniversaries to come. But also, if you show anyone this letter, I’m dumping you for Connor Murphy, don’t fucking test me. I have never had a crush on him like someone thought, but I’ll get that weed-head to fall for me so hard, you won’t even know. All joking aside, though, happy anniversary and I love you.
Sincerely,
Me (your boyfriend. Jared Kleinman. That’s me. Still not over that.)
P.S. Take these memes:
http://tinyurl.com/evans-meme
http://tinyurl.com/insert-gay-shit-here
http://tinyurl.com/evan-meme-1
Happy anniversary (again) and… I love you.
#kleinsen#dear evan hansen#evan hansen#jared kleinman#kleinsen fic#hi lissy I love this so much#this is so sos so good#entries#submission
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yo can you tell some more stories about fionn mccool? i know the one where he gets cucked and the one where he dresses up as a baby but there's no way that's all
why, YES, I am always up to share more about my favorite Irish mythos character and professional baby, Fionn mac Cumhaill. Ok, SO, Fionn Gets Cucked and Fionn Avoids A Fight By Dressing As A Baby are two of Fionn’s adventures, but he’s got a lot more! Also, those two happen quite late in the Fenian Cycle, when Fionn is already the leader of the Fianna Knights. There’s actually a lot of stories about Fionn, since, much like our good friend Cu Chulainn is the central hero of the Ulster Cycle, Fionn is the central hero of the Fenian Cycle. Today, I want to share with you some of the stories detailing the origins of Fionn, and how he becomes a professional baby, but also, so you all know that, despite my friendly mockery of him, the dude is a bona fide badass (and as I’ve said before, my favorite Irish mythos duder). Also, you’ll see some parallels between Fionn and Cu, but more of that later! So sit tight, get some cookies, and lets get WILD.
OUR STORY BEGINS with the Fianna Knights, commanded by one man named Cumhaill, which is literally pronounced “Cool”, so you KNOW we are in for a good ass tale when the first dude we meet is literally named Cool. Coolio had the hots for this druidess named Muirne Munchaem, daughter of a kickass High Druid, Tagd mac Nuadat, because she was really beautiful and a cool druid and, well, he probably had a thing for necks because Muirne Munchaem literally means “beautiful neck”, which is what she was known for, her beautiful neck, which is what mythos is known for, for being as subtle as a club to the balls with its names and foreshadowing. Speaking of getting hit in the balls with a cudgel, that is EXACTLY what happened to Cumhaill when he asked for Muirne’s hand in marriage. HOWEVER, when you are the leader of the Fianna and your name is fuckin’ COOL, one or six club strikes to the groin isn’t enough to dissuade you. So did Cool insist with tenacious fervor and, aided with the power of True Love, eventually changed Tagd’s mind? Nah, fuck that noise, my dude just snuck into Tagd’s castle during the night and stole Muirne away, who apparently was pretty ok with this. Druid Wife GET.
Now, why was Tagd so opposed to this marriage? See, Tagd used his Magic 8-Ball one day and asked it “Hey 8-Ball, what would happen if my daughter Muirne got married?”, and the 8-Ball, ever so wise, replied in its usual white letters with a blue triangle background: “YOU WILL LITERALLY LOSE EVERYTHING YOU OWN”. Oh ok, well, see, I can kinda understand why Tagd answered requests for marriage with a literal club to the testicles now. Problem is, Coolio had indeed already stolen his very willing daughter, so, fuck, damn, step 1 failed. Tagd pitched the mother of all tantrums and went to the High King, Conn Cétchathach, which literally means “Conn of the Hundred Battles”, holy FUCK that is a cool ass name, and tattled on Coolio. Conn said “that’s not very cash money of you, Cumhaill”, and put a price on his head. Thus begins the Hunt For Cool.
What’s not cool is that Cool eventually gets hunted down and killed by a FILTHY TRAITOR named Goll mac Morna, a Fianna Knight who saw this opportunity, with Cool having been outlawed, to kill him and take control of the Fianna, which he did, but the problem is, Muirne had already been left pregnant, so she went back to her dad, but dad was vewy vewy angwy, so he ordered for her to burned at the stake. So she was like nah son and druidly ran away, hid in the forest, and went to her sister, Bodhmall the Druidess, and asked for a solid, if she could raise his kid so they wouldn’t kill him while she goes and hides. Aunt Bodhmall was like sure thing man I love kids, so the kid was born and she named him Demne. Bodhmall lived with her husband Fiacal and her BFF and companion, the warrior woman Liath Luachra, Bodhmall and Liath grab the little Demne and go live in the forest, in seclusion from society, to train him and raise him, just like in the animes.
Now, there’s something YOU, the reader, needs to know about Irish mythos to understand this wholly. This is what the modern reader thinks a druid looks like:
This is what a druid actually was:
Honestly, these dudes and dudettes were the concept of decimating ass given human bodies so they could find asses to decimate. You did NOT fuck with druids. They were warriors through and through, and some of the FINEST. So Demne here was being raised by his two mommies, both of which were IMPECCABLE ANUS ANNIHILATORS, being trained in the art of Rectal Ruination, and when Demne was old enough, the three of them, like any loving family did, went on adventures togethers, to punch magical shit and suplex brigands. Demne was a very strong child, but there was something odd about him: His hair whitened prematurely. So here you had this anime ass kid with white hair kicking ass with his two POWERMOMS and kicking so much toosh under their tutelage that he earned a nickname, like all prominent warriors did back then.
His nickname was Fionn, which literally means “white”, “pale”, and “bright”, because of his white hair which flowed beautifully in the field of battle. Discarding his childhood name “Demne”, Fionn, son of Cumhaill, or Fionn mac Cumhaill, was born!
Fionn mac Cumhaill, trained by two Powermoms and aided by his heritage of asskickery from a father literally named Cool, surely had a colorful future in front of him… And that was the problem. Fionn was becoming too famous. Becoming famed is kind of a POOR CHOICE when you are actually trying to hide from people that are trying to kill you, and hey, speaking of which, HERE THEY COME.
So here’s Fionn, right, kicking ass left and right, but due to all this asswhooping, his name started spreading and people started to wonder, hey, maybe this Fionn guy is the son of that Cool Dude that we were ordered to kill, we should go and check this out so we can get the rest of the reward money! Fionn’s powermoms notice that people are starting to swarm the area, looking for him, and realize that their combined kickassery is playing against them. “FIONN”, bellowed Powermom Bodhmall, “THOU ART A GROWN ASS MAN, PACK YO SHIT AND LEAVE”. Powermom Duo had already taught everything they knew to young Fionn, so he left to find his own way, as his moms ordered him, and thus took to wandering. Some time passes and Fionn realizes “MAN I CAN SURE KICK A THOUSANDS ASSES BUT I AM DUMB AS FUCK”, and he was pretty insecure about this because, while far from being dumb, Fionn understood that being raised in a forest away from society by two warriors wasn’t exactly a normal upbringing, and since he did want to take back the Fianna Knights that his father had led, he needed BRAINS for that shit, because you can’t lead men with just MUSCLE and HUSTLE. So Fionn becomes the disciple of the poet Finn Eces. Some people say his name is Finegas, but those people are HISTORIANS and so they don’t matter. So Finn Eces teaches Fionn cool shit unrelated to decimating people in combat, and Fionn actually likes it, it’s like, wow, I know exactly 500 different ways to kill a man with his own spine, but I didn’t know the name of this cool ass flower yesterday! I love this purple flower.
Finn Eces was on his own quest, by the way, because if you had a name in Celtic/Old Irish mythos, you had some big ass fuckquest to accomplish, whether it be a personal big ass fuckquest or a more important big ass fuckquest. My dude’s quest was that he really coveted Fintan mac Bochra, better known as the Salmon of Knowledge, said to grant whoever ate it with all the knowledge in the world. He had spent seven years looking for the little bastard, and one day, he actually caught the salmon. Overjoyed, the old Finn Eces hands the Salmon to Fionn and tells him to cook it and to NOT EAT IT. “Aye aye cap’n” says Young Pale and off he goes to cook the hell out of this fish for Sensei. While he is cooking it, Fionn uses his thumb to touch the fish and check how well done it is. This is where shit gets Mythological: The salmon’s body fat was dripping (because it was being cooked), and the salmon got very hot, so when Fionn used his thumb to check it, he ended up touching some of the salmon’s dripping fat. The THING IS, all of the salmon’s wisdom had been concentrated in that one drop of fish fat, and ALSO, again, the fish got VERY HOT, so Fionn burned his idiot thumb and immediately, by reflex, sucked on it, thus, ingesting the fish fat that contained all of the wisdom, THUS, acquiring all of the wisdom. MYTHOS.
Fionn finished cooking the fish and brought it to his master, but Finn-Sensei told him to STOP RIGHT THERE and to look him straight in the eyes. Finn Eces noticed that Fionn’s eyes weren’t those of an idiot child anymore, but rather, they were bright and enlightened, endowed with wisdom he never had seen before. “FIONN”, yelled Sensei, “DID YOU EAT THE FISH”.
“NO, LOOK, IT’S WHOLE” explained Fionn, “It’s just, I burned my finger and sucked on it”. Apparently, Finn Eces was both a very smart man and a kind one too, because he immediately understood that the Salmon had given Fionn his wisdom, and he didn’t really mind. He was like, cool, grats dude, you were Chosen By The Fish, so you can eat the fish. Fionn itadakimasu’d and ate the whole salmon, thus acquiring all of the Salmon’s knowledge (the fat of the fish contained its WISDOM, the meat contains the KNOWLEDGE). Having consumed the whole thing, Fionn became Super Mega Fionn, and thus acquired his super power: ALL of the world’s knowledge and wisdom. Well, to be more specific, he has ACCESS to all of it. It’s like when they installed “how to not suck at flying helicopters” into Neo and Trinity’s brains in The Matrix. Fionn pretty much had access to the Akashic Records on demand, and could retrieve any knowledge and wisdom he wanted. How did he do this? By sucking on his thumb, where he first burned himself and sucked the fish fat.
This is why I call him a professional baby, not just because my dude literally dressed as one that one time. Fionn’s superpower is literally to know everything and anything he needs, as long as he sucks his thumb like the idiot baby he is. I love Fionn so much.
#tainbocuailnge#and this is just THE BEGINNING#I will make a post about My Favorite Fionn Adventure later or tomorrow because that one#THAT ONE#is honestly the fucking best#WARRIOR BABY FIONN
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