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epicbuddieficrecs · 5 months

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Favorite Buddie fics of 2023!

Every single year at @epicstuckyficrecs I used to do a fic rec at the end of the year with my favorite fics. I figured I should keep the tradition going! So, without further ado, these are my favorite Buddie fics (in no particular order) published in 2023! (you can also check out some other favorite Buddie fics of mine here)

If you have any favorites that aren't in this list, don't hesitate to share them in the comments! :)

Complete

find a way to you (if it kills me) by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (Post S6E13: Mixed Feelings, Pining | 19K | Mature): the one where eddie decides to start dating again, buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief

let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-Coma AU | 54K | Explicit): or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Time Travel, Post-Season 6, Getting together | 80K | Teen): When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica.

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Coma AU, Multiverse | 58K | Teen): After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 51K | Explicit): or, evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6 | 62K | Mature): The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

where all of the people dancing and clapping would greet me with such warmth by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Season 6, Magical Realism | 15K | Mature): In the fall, Buck begins to disappear. (Part 2 of All I Am, All That I Am)

Nothing Left But You by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars ("Blip" AU | 27K | Teen | Warning: MCD): In May of 2021, 25% of Earth's population suddenly disappears. Including Eddie. In May of 2026, they all come back. Eddie finds himself suddenly in the middle of a world he doesn't recognize, where the people he loves most have changed significantly.

Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Canon Divergent - Supernatural Elements, Ghost Buck | 67K | Explicit): When Eddie's son claims he has an imaginary friend, Eddie doesn't think much of it. Christopher is seven, it's what kids do. But then weird things start happening around the house, and Eddie starts dreaming about a handsome blue-eyed man. Turns out, Christopher's friend isn't so imaginary. Their house is haunted.

come with me, together, we can take the long way home series by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Canon compliant | 105K | T to M):

Get me through the night; Make me feel alright (Post-S3 Finale | 11K | Mature): After an emotionally-gutting reunion with Abby, Buck turns to old coping mechanisms. Eddie helps him find a better way. In Uncertain Times, The Uncertain Rules Apply (Pre-S4 | 22K | Teen): Covid comes to LA. Eddie copes. Or doesn't. Holding out for Something More (Stuck in Reverse) (Post S4E3/Lone Star Crossover | 26K | Teen): LA is coming out of lockdown and the world is returning to some sense of normalcy. But going back to the way things were hurts more than Buck expected. While his therapist challenges him to confront what he really wants, the team takes a trip to Austin... and El Paso. so far from being free (S4E4: 9-1-1 What's Your Grievance?, S4E5: Buck Begins | 46K | Teen): That’s Daniel. He was our brother. Buck doesn’t know what to do with the past tense. He never had a brother. He’s always had a brother. He gained one and lost one in the same breath and it feels impossible.

Kink Club AU series by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Canon Divergent - Different First Meeting, BDSM, Dom Eddie, Sub Buck | Complete | Explicit): Canon compliant one shots where Eddie works at a Kink Club as a side hustle and meets Buck there before his first shift in 2x01.

The Warmth (of You) (25K): aka where Buck and Eddie first meet at a kink club before the firehouse To Weather the Storm (With You) (21K): aka the fallout of Buck finding out the dom he met at a Kink Club is his new coworker Safe Here (With You) (20K): aka Buck and Eddie handle working a shift after their first scene The Building Pressure (of You) (15K): aka Buck reaches out to Eddie after he leaves Abby's place in 2x07 An Offer to Torment (You) (14K): aka Eddie is all twisted up inside about what to do with Shannon. Buck offers himself up for some much needed holiday stress relief.

like when the sun came out by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Canon Divergent, Ghosts | 39K | Mature): Evan gave up trying to explain what happens to him after his parents forced him to have a talk with one of their friends, supposedly a pediatric therapist, and cruelly hinted that if Evan didn’t stop seeing and talking about his “invisible friends” as if they were real then his parents would send him far away to places where they lock children up in padded rooms. “Look,” Evan says quickly, forcing out the words before he gets too scared to speak,” I—I know this is going to sound crazy, but, um, ever since I was a kid I can see ghosts.”

tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Time Loop | 43K | Mature): eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia

All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 107K | Explicit): Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost. Fate has other plans for both of them.

Don't They Know It's the End of the World? by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Fallout 4 AU, Post-Apocalyptic | 32K | Mature | Warning: Violence): After being put in a cryogenic sleep for over a hundred years to wait out an apocalyptic event, Eddie Diaz wakes up, too early, to find his son has been stolen from his cryo-chamber. Scared and alone in a frightening world he doesn't recognize, Eddie is willing to do anything to get his kid back.

but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Post-S6, Time Loop | 28K Mature): He puts his laptop away after a bit, and paces the length of his apartment as he tries to take stock of the situation at hand. One: The date is March 22nd, 2024. Two: It has been March 22nd for 3 days now. Three: Buck is trapped in some kind of time loop that is forcing him to relive this day. Four: Eddie is, apparently, in love with him. And. And. Five: Buck doesn’t feel the same way.

WIP

And here are my favorite WIP that I really hope will continue to be updated in 2024! 🤞

for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 11/? | 96K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 104/? | 283K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 10/? | 25K | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 89K | 20/? | Explicit | Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 7/? | 12K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie #buddie fic rec #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction #911 fanfic #911 fic #911 fanfiction

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strangestcase · 1 year

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THE LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY GENTLEPEOPLE FAQ

What is the League of Extraordinary Gentlepeople?

The League of Extraordinary Gentlepeople, or LXGP for short, is my current writing project: an AU of the 2003 movie The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, which is in turn a loose adaptation of the series of comics of the same name co-created by Alan Moore and Sir Kevin O'Neill.

The basic synopsis of both comics and movie is as follows: a somewhat dysfunctional superhero team composed of nineteenth century literary characters go on politically charged adventures. The comics and movie are very different, and... very much acquired tastes. Albeit I recommend watching the movie! It's extremely cheesy. Fun too!

Ok, but- what is LXGP really about?

Glad you asked!

In the late XIXth century, a mysterious type known as Agent M sets off to recruit various individuals which he calls Extraordinary People and forms the League, claiming it is the key to preventing a world-wide war! But as events unravel, the League comes to realize M is not who he claims to be...

The LXGP stories are out of order, focusing on both retellings of scenes from the 2003 movie and original stories set after the events of the movie canon. While it is mostly based off the movie, there are elements from the comics, some dramatic changes, and the character designs and personalities are taken from my literary crossover "world", Candyverse! So they will be, in some ways, very different from what you have seen in the LXG franchise.

Hold on- Candyverse?

Candyverse is the name of my literary crossover setting! Expect most of the cast to consist of public domain literary characters (and some not so public domain ones). Don't mind the silly name- the character designs are mildly inspired by sweets in the sense that they are colorful and spunky! But don't be fooled, Candyverse is a pretty dark world.

In Candyverse, Earth is actually a fantasy world, in which elves and fairies and all sorts of mythical creatures used to live... but as people stopped believeing in magic and replacing it with science, it started becoming a science fiction world instead, with amazing technology that is downright futuristic. During its nineteenth century, it is at its most unstable, with gothic literary characters and events "bridging" the supernatural with straight up mad science. And that is precisely the time I am centered in, so expect some gaslamp fantasy and steampunk tech!

Once we delve more into the lore, expect meta stuff, too!

Which not so public domain characters?

Wait and see!

How much time have you spent on this?

If I'm being honest? The concept of this AU came to me around 2020, in which I realized I had enough classic literature characters designed to cover the LXG roster with it- and I decided to jump to action. It has undergone a few changes since, but so far I'm satisfied with it. Also, don't be scared if a soft reboot comes along in a couple of years- I'm indecisive like that!

Why did you create it?

Do you want a honest answer? Just kidding.

I really like the LXG franchise, particularly the movie, though I'm aware it is an acquired taste. This project is meant to be a reply to all the missed opportunities in either comic and movie, and to common criticisms too. I make it with love and a little bit of anger (because SO MANY MISSED OPPORTUNITIES!), and I ride the inspiration unicorn as far as I can.

A shorter answer would be that the gothic lit fandom loves to spread misinformation about it and that drives me up the wall.

So... What's with the title?

The League's roster is only 2/6 men. It's only fair.

And the roster is...?

Mina Murray Harker (she/they), Captain Nemo (no pronouns), Irene Adler (she/they), Henry Jekyll/Edward Hyde (he/they/it), Harlow Griffin (he/him), and Alice Byrd (she/fae). I will make -and post- official character bios as soon as I can!

Wait. Alice? From Wonderland?

Yep! She's in her mid-twenties here!

In which year is this set?

In the year of 18??, more or less.

Where is Jonathan? My good friend Jonathan?

He's at home! Technically he is a member of the League, but he is not in Mina's team, but in a second "backup" team that I still have to fully develop!

(This is mostly an excuse to not have to write him. I think he's a pretty boring person. Sorry!)

Where is Tom Sawyer?

He's also in the backup team!

Where is Dorian Gray?

Wait and see!

Where is Allan Quatermain?

He's dead.

...I'm sorry?

Do you have any biases?

*hiding Hyde behind me* Haha, noooo, not at all, what makes you think that, hahahaha.

Are the League heros?

Collectively, they're heroes. They do good. Well, attempt to do good. After breaking bonds with M, they set off as a rogue team of mercenaries. Individually? They range from heroic to villainous. And, honestly, for old-timey superheroes, they're ratther floppy. Their missions often go wrong or do the opposite of saving the day. Whoops!

Will there be queer stuff in this?

All League members are transgender. Does this answer your question?

...I meant like, romance...

Sheesh! Yes, yes there will be! Just be patient!

Will there be... steamy stuff?

I suck at writing NSFW so yeah, "steamy" is all you're gonna get lol.

Will you post art?

I suppose I will- when I make it.

How often will this update?

WHEN. I. HAVE. FINISHED. A. STORY. THEN. I WILL. POST. IT. THAT'S. WHEN. IT. UPDATES.

Can I make art?

Sure you can!

Can we collab?

SURE!

Can we kiss?

Ew. No.

#the league of extraordinary gentlemen #the league of extraordinary gentlepeople #lxg #lxgp #loeg #lxg au #gothic fiction #gothic literature #gothic lit #dracula #jekyll and hyde #the invisible man #sherlock holmes #20k leagues #alice in wonderland

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incarnateirony · 1 year

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That last post really makes me appreciate fans like you and other series positive spaces. There is a fandom I am in (for a manga) where for a while it very much became anti-led when a new generation of fans joined, trying police fans and say who we older fans should hold empathy for or who to hate. They completely missed the point of its story saying of not everyone is going to agree on how forgiveness is given. Very much feels like 2po is trying to pull that with those of us trusting the show.

That's exactly what he's doing. Like we've been saying, he's literally trying to manipulate a universe where the people who enjoy the show, the people the show was written for, are bad fans; and that the hate watchers, the people who discredit all the work crew members are actively posting about and asking us to acknowledge, people who bad faith the creatives, are somehow "good fans."

I've seen it happen before, as you described. Hell, it happened in SPN, which is WHY this truth is so buried. If fandom is interested, and really cares, it can go back and unpack YEARS of manipulations people like 2po have done against the creatives.

For example, inspiring people to bad faith bobo's efforts by insisting he had no intent. 2po was all over that, and denying the confession was already written until the production scripts dropped. At this point, Bobo's intent was actually very well known to anyone that like. Spoke. To him. Or like. Paid marginal amounts of attention. Or weren't so untrustworthy they just got his smug gay elf grin.

Season 12, market testing. Pushing back against the corporate blockade 2po also, at the time, claimed didn't exist. Now, of course, per convenience, he's pretending that hurdle exists, and thinks he can spin people's anxieties that way, when the new corporate structure actually liberates the content, not the other way around. But NOW, NOW!!! there's corporate interference. Nevermind his 5K failboat of denial, and us finding out the finale didn't even square its music licensing till the final week it was falling apart so bad.

What about Robbie calling Destiel canon in season 10? Carver passing a note on Bobo's first ep to play it romantic? These things were all screeched over for years to help inspire bad faith against the authors. They had footing in the previous institutions.

It's why, though, jared stans are so mad he isn't involved. Some even invested millions in his company to try to influence things and it's like, well, hope you enjoy the pennies back because on a fandom investment, what a waste.

In early years, efforts from authors were independent. Carver's writing room was very competitive. Robbie used to be one of the lone gay warriors with Edlund occasionally dropping a nice bomb. It wasn't until Dabb era the room became collaborative (barring singerbuckleming) and everyone worked towards a goal. But Robbie's been pulling that line the whole time, and Bobo when he tapped in (and played baton pass with Robbie S9-11), and yeah, Bobo trained the new kids and they worked as a pack.

And for *years* this fandom was monkey trained by antis to scream at them and tear them apart and call it queerbait while they were fighting their asses off and jousting with market testing issues, genre issues, and other property label issues (not to mention effects of the Chad Kennedy S9 incident.)

So now, people are kind of having to face that they abused the fuck out of authors for years that were on their side, and some people really don't want to face that. These are the kind of people and hatedom antis like 2po nestle in with and try to toxify fandoms with.

And neither I, nor Jensen, nor Robbie are letting it happen. On a fandom front, I'm not. On a property front, Jensen's not, hence banning certain content types from markets and distancing the J2 affiliation (check CE listing shifts over the last half year and the open access to autos). And on the fine footnotes of the canon's text pinning them down like a bug being studied, Robbie's not either. Cuz again, they only got a few episodes left to stunt.

But do. Not. Let. Them. Poison. This. Fandom. This is a new show, it's not even for them, and they don't get to fuck it up on entitlement to persist like angry spirits. The plot is literally Unpack Your Shit And Face The Truth Or Fuck Off To The Void.

#spnwin #the winchesters

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mlobsters · 8 months

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supernatural s10e13 halt & catch fire (w. eric charmelo, nicole snyder)

maybe i should rewatch halt and catch fire. i watched it as it aired so it's been a minute. lee pace as a very messy bisexual disaster in the early pc industry through to internet times. and mackenzie davis was amazing. really well done show. i recall the first season was a little too hard on the mad men-esque feel but really got into its own stride in subsequent seasons (it was airing on amc at the end of mad men's run which was mid 2014 and this spn ep aired feb 2015. the phrase itself is an old computing term). anyway!

is the mark making him ogle the college girls too? cmon

DEAN And Trini is? SAM Ah, you have to excuse my partner. When it comes to technology, he’s a little behind. Uh…he just learned how to poke on Facebook. JANET Uh, um, Trini is the nav app we were using. It – It’s like a talking map. You’re Gen X. Right.

well, addressing the age difference of it all LOL. i think of dean/jensen as my age but he is technically 1 (2) years older than me. i'm in the no-man's land of 1980 which is claimed by neither gen x or millenial or both, depending who you ask. not for nothing, we had all this new tech stuff come in when we were young and we're not known to be technically unsavvy :P (though the earlier you get things can be different) but also like. since he and i are kind of on that cusp age of generations, i don't think it would be necessarily super obvious to this girl that he is? dear lord. what will i overthink next

SAM So – so what’s a thing? DEAN You know, the truck thing. You honor the deceased by driving their truck. Sam, they wrote a whole country song about it. Why don’t you Google it?

it's such an old, easy, dumb joke but dean being so smug over telling sam to google something made me laugh

DEAN Alright, so big brother didn’t get along with little brother, was pissed that he was driving his baby. I get it. SAM What are you saying? If you died and I drove your car, you’d kill me? DEAN If you stunk her up with tacquitos, probably.

what do you mean, IF? dean HAS died and you DID drive his car :P

cackling. didn't they have a lamp cord do this in s1 to sam?

spn s1e9 home

SAM So, what? You think we’re dealing with a “Ghost in the Machine”? DEAN Maybe. But if it is the same ghost, I mean, they usually anchor themselves to a place or a thing. How is this one jumping from one machine to the next?

was gonna mention the xfiles episodes (s1e7 ghost in the machine and s5e11 kill switch [the one written by william gibson]), which ghost in the machine i mentioned previously because spn s2e5 had an actor in that episode! and i did i hiky for kill switch when i was rewatching xf. but i'm trying to stop rambling. unsuccessfully 🫠

so this seems more like a kill switch situation vs ghost in the machine (evil building software vs ai on the internet killing people) 🤪

SAM It doesn’t matter. Now I’m going through her deleted files. DEAN You can do that? SAM Yeah. DEAN Hmm. SAM I mean, nothing ever really gets deleted from the Internet. You knew that, right? DEAN Yeah.

implied embarrassing (porn? tumblr poetry? DATING PROFILES?) dean winchester content out there somewhere. thinking about what could even embarrass dean (who currently is eating more sloppily than my kids do)

DELILAH It’s pretty crazy to obsess over someone you’ve never met. DEAN It’s not that crazy. The truth is, I can relate. DELILAH Really? DEAN I have made more mistakes than I can count. Ones that haunt me day and night. DELILAH So… how do you deal? DEAN Whiskey. Denial. I do my best to make things right, whatever that may be. For you, maybe it’s…maybe it’s coming clean. You know, finding a way to ask for forgiveness. But not breaking the bank at your local florist. I mean…real forgiveness. You can’t just bury stuff like this. You got to deal with it.

that old chestnut of opening up to a rando because their plotline mirrors enough the conflict that the boys are going through and they can't talk to anyone else about it

so, dean, my love. is this what you're doing, dealing?

also gonna skip over that whole shaky concept of the wifi business. keep on suspending that disbelief, nic. wireless speakers and wifi on an antenna tower (??), it's all the same. it's just waves in the air, man. i am a leaf on the wind 🍃

DEAN Yeah. Looks like. I think I’m gonna follow his lead, too. SAM What do you mean? DEAN My peace is helping people. Working cases. That’s all I want to do. SAM Is this about the Mark? DEAN I’m done trying to find a cure, Sammy. SAM Dean, Cas is so close. DEAN To what? We don’t even know if there is a cure. So far, we’ve got nothing. We have found nothing at the Men of Letters library. Metatron may or may not know something. And maybe Cas is on to something with Cain. SAM Maybe. Yeah, maybe. Nothing is guaranteed, Dean. So what? We can’t just stop fighting. DEAN Yes, we can. SAM So, this is it? Y-you’re just gonna – you’re just gonna give up. DEAN No. No, I’m not just gonna give up. I appreciate the effort, okay? I do. But the answer is not out there. It’s with me. I need to be the one calling the shots here, okay? I can’t keep waking up every morning with this false hope. I got to know where I stand. Otherwise, I’m gonna lose my freakin’ mind. So I’m gonna fight it til I can’t fight it anymore. And when all is said and done… I’ll go down swinging.

sam and i both getting a little panicked i think (seeing sam start breathing fast surely affects me) but hey they got a few tears out of me, feels like an accomplishment (compared to early seasons i was regularly crying my way through the show). nothing like dean being a realist but also accepting that this thing is going to kill him. i get the false hope thing, and why it's untenable. and maybe that is the best plan, to fully accept in his heart of hearts it's not gonna get fixed. and then when they figure out how to fix it, he can run with it. but it's shades of that old passive self destructive dean who doesn't value his own life (or see how him not valuing his life affects sam)

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 10x13 #halt and catch fire #the xfiles #spn 1x09 #eric charmelo #nicole snyder

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fairymothe · 2 years

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Proshipper Vs. Antis Essay (Kinda??)

I really needed to talk about this because its been hanging out in my mind for a while now. It won"t be very refined and will be my pure unadulterated thoughts. Lets start with the terms.

Proshipper: A person who believes that others should do what they want with ships, art, and fiction they create and that it doesn't have much effect on reality.

Antishipper: A person who does not think people should do whatever they want with ships, art and fiction and that it does have effect on reality.

Both these terms are flawed and I don't care what either side has to say. They are both bad.

Antishipping is purity culture, and shows that anything bad automatically normalizes it. But Proshippers think that fiction has no effect on reality, and that in turn creates so many problems.

Let's go over both sides problems.

Antishippers will literally harass people just to get their point across and its disgusting. For example, when AO3 got attacked being sent literal child p*rnographic content because the people who sent were mad about problematic fics. Fucking disgusting. I might have been given misinformation so if anybody can fully prove this was the reason AO3 was being attacked that would be good. Here is some half proof that it happened but doesn't explain the reason why: Proof kinda.

But we can't act like Proshippers are fucking innocent. Fiction can have effect on reality and that isn't lying. Young kids read fan fiction and go on social media too. People who can get seriously hurt by the stuff exist as well. I'm sorry but making underage and incest crap can effect people who can't even fathom what these things mean. When we write problematic stuff, we desensitize ourselves to that problem. And art is even worse. At least with fanfics there is a barrier for who reads and who doesn't, but art literally shows it in HD, and then claims its okay because it isn't "real".

I don't want people to think that I'm defending either sides. But I'm going to pick and choose parts of each side to create a new one. I'm a semi-shipper. I know, it sounds silly. But I wanted to create a term that can help people who feel just as confused as I am about this.

Semishipper: A person who believes that fiction can have effect on reality, but will not harass people who create this content and will not do much more than avoiding the content.

But, how do we fix this discourse? That's a question I'm still asking myself. But I think I have an answer. We first of all need to make sure "vunerable" people will have more of a barrier to these things on sites that are more known like Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. Next, I have a little website idea. Bare with me here.

It should be called Dead Doves Shoudn't Be Eaten (A play on words from the popular fanfic term, Dead Dove Do Not Eat), or something along the lines of that. It should be for problematic content that isn't already taken care of by various sites. Basically it's a archive for problematic content so we can differentiate problematic sexual stuff and non problematic sexual stuff. I know it sounds stupid but I don't have the website making skills to do this. Maybe one day. You can try if you want but I highly doubt that anybody is gonna care about my idea pitch.

This is a problem that will take a long time to solve and even then, it might never be solved. Please tell me your thoughts on this because It's been stressing me out. Do be respectful though. I have been thinking about this for a while now so if you've gotten this far, thanks for reading.

P.s. When fanfic has this stuff I care less because fanfic has tags for a reason so you can easily avoid it.

#proshipper #proship #antis #antishipper #anti shipping #anti proship #anti anti #no beta we die like men

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willowwhispersspeakeasy · 2 years

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Hi love your work on the potion and the kiss twst request and I was wondering if you could do the same thing four malleus , vil and epel also Rook if not that’s fine just keep up the great work and stay safe out there:)

Anonymous asked:

Might as well request the twst! they force you to drink a potion w/ a kiss for pomefiore cuz it just. Makes. Sense. 🌟

twst! they force you to drink a potion w/ a kiss

characters: Vil Schoenheit, Epel Felmier, Malleus Draconia

Rook drabble that started it all: here (ps if you like this trope with him go scroll through @raven-at-the-writing-desk 's Dorm Leader Rook au. my favorites are this and this post.)

warnings: gender neutral reader, overblot!Vil, non con kissing, poisoning, possessive themes, drugging, some mildly suggestive themes for Malleus

Vil

you know hes the dorm leader of Pomefiore right? so he has to be good at brewing poisons... I know I said dont trust Jade but Vil is far more dangerous.

you had never seen a more beautiful overblot than Vil's. he shined like stained glass, tears like black oil reflective in the light they danced with iridescent colors.

Vil was the very archetype of the monstrous feminine. the maternal protectiveness for his loved ones, the eyes of wonder and sorrow of the maiden, and the sly and scheming pain of the crone.

he was beautiful in the way a hurricane was beautiful, destruction and sorrow and unbridled power. yet as you stood in the eye of the storm, all was quiet.

the claws of his hands were gentle as he cupped your face. tears like ink dripped from his chin. your hands twitched with the desire to wipe them away. you longed to hold him, to cradle him, to assure him everything would be alright.

lying to your queen can get you beheaded you know.

"...am I truly hideous to you now?" he spoke, voice echoing like the halls of an empty church.

"you could never be hideous Vil, even if you tried." you replied, backed against a wall. your eyes scanned behind him, trying to find an exit. a way back to your friends, and away from the dangerous monster who had replaced your dear friend.

"look at me." the command was rough, your chin trapped between claws. you gasped, held in place by the man before you. "you will look at me. you belong to me. you are mine."

you gasped in surprise as he kissed you. you can't lie and say you haven't imagined kissing him many times, wondering what his lips would taste like. breakfast tea perhaps? mint leaves? candied apples?

his mouth now tasted like tar and salt. tears and ink mixed on your tongue as he sobbed into your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm hideous- please dont leave me," he cried, holding you tighter against himself. "please, you can't leave me!"

"shh Vil, I'm right here. please, you have to calm down." you begged for more time. more time to escape, more time for your friends to find you.

"yes, you won't leave me... you won't." he was muttering to himself, the poised and polite man you'd known had fallen fully into his madness.

with a snap of his fingers he produced a vial of blue liquid. it bubbled within its container and you dared not think what the substance was for.

''you won't leave... because if I can't have you," Vil popped the vial open with his thumb. "no one can."

you watched in horror as he emptied it into his mouth.

"Vil no!" you cried, reaching for his face to try and catch him before swallowing the poison. but you were naive. he crashed his mouth to yours once again, tilting your chin and letting the poison fall into your mouth.

you gasped and sputtered after he pulled away, ribbons of the blue liquid cascading down your chin. but you'd already swallowed it, and the world around you started to spin.

"mine." Vil's claim echoed in your head, bouncing around in the empty space, before your vision went black.

Epel

I think he'd do it more as a prank than anything truly nefarious. hes a good kid, hes just tired of people not taking him seriously.

"I'm just saying, I could defiantly beat you to the gate." you huffed, stretching your arms over your head.

"like hell you can, you're on!" Epel grinned, his competitive nature taking over. the pair of you sprinted as fast as you could to the gate of NRC.

his small frame made him quick on his feet, able to dart fast around obstacles and clime trees with ease.

it was close but at the last moment you managed to crash into the gate just before he did, panting hard but still shouting your victory.

"haha! told you so!" you gasped, triumphant grin on full display.

"damnit, you're really fucking fast." he panted, leaning against the gate to catch his breath.

"guess you're gunna have to practice with Deuce and Jack before you can beat me~" you teased. he sent you a glare, pushing himself off the metal gate he'd been leaning on.

"what, you dont think im man enough to beat you by myself?" he huffed. you paused. you knew Epel was often teased for his feminine appearance and that it was a touchy subject, so you tried to leave it alone.

"come on, me beating you in a race doesn't have anything to do with that. it just means im faster than you~" you teased. "I bet I could beat Jack easy peasy! hes so big he can't go as fast anyway."

this seamed to relax Epel, realizing you weren't teasing him for lacking masculinity, just teasing him for being slower than you.

"I'd like to see that. we should have a race with the three of us next time." he grinned and laughed. you relaxed, seeing his mood had returned to normal once more. "but I can prove my manhood to you in other ways."

you quirked a brow at his challenge, confused. the pair of you began walking back towards the center of the courtyard. returning to your bags you pulled out a water bottle to take a drink, tired from the sprint.

Epel ripped it out of your hands. you let out a yelp of surprise and protest, sending him a glare as he took a drink from your water bottle.

"do you mind-" you signed and began to complain before you were grabbed by the back of the neck and pulled into a kiss.

he tasted fresh and sweet as the water in his mouth slipped into yours. you let out a garbled moan before he pulled away. your cheeks flared bright red and he grinned triumphantly.

"see, told you. I can make you all flustered easy."

Malleus

ooh, yes scheming dragon brooding on his throne. tail curled down and tapping at his boot impatiently. hes greedy by nature and he doesn't like when you refuse him~

you had been tugged along by an excited Lilia, the small fae chirping about how Malleus had requested your presents. joining the four Diasomnia members back at the valley had been an, interesting way to spend your vacation.

you were thankful to Lilia for dragging you away from Sebek, whom had been loudly bragging how superior Briar Valley was to the other regions. your tolerance for the young man was higher then most, but that didn't mean his superior attitude wasn't annoying.

Lilia pushed you gently through a door way, offering you a wave and a playful grin before closing the door behind you.

"Child of Man?" you turned to the room, finding yourself in a breathtaking gothic library. Malleus sat elegantly upon a velvet highback chair, placed across from a fireplace. it burned bright with glowing green flames as your partner lowered his book.

"hey, Lilia said you asked for me." you wandered closer, still taking in the grander of the room and the breathtaking stain glass windows.

"ah, yes I did." he placed the book down on the side table, before turning his glowing eyes to watch you curiously. "you had yet to visit this room."

"I-i've never seen anything like it." you admitted. your mind danced with the possibilities of stories whispered into the wood of the shelves. the ages and languages of a fae's library casting its spell of wonder upon you.

"I am glad you are pleased." Malleus hummed, an amused smirk on his lips. "but please come here, beastie." you turned and followed his wishes as he beckoned you forward.

Malleus tugged on your hips once you were in range of his reach. he guided you down to sit on his lap, pulling your legs to straddle his waist.

you blushed at the intimacy of the position, his long fingers tracing your sides over the fabric of the robes you had been given by Lilia. it seamed most fae did not wear the customary clothes of the other realms, instead dawning in robes of jewel tones, reminding you more of Pomefiores uniform then anything else you'd seen.

"there they are, my lovely little beastie~" Malleus traced his hand up to your face. fingers soft as he traced your jaw, then your cheekbones, then your ears. his soft caresses sent shivers down your spine. touched like you were one of the priceless old books hidden away in this library.

"we dragons are greedy folk. i... dislike to see how you are dragged around by Sebek and Silver." he admitted, stroking just behind your ear.

"for the record its mostly Sebek, Silvers just sort of, there." you let out a half hearted chuckle. Malleus hummed in acknowledgement.

"as pleased as I am to let you have friends your own age, and kind, I still crave you by my side." his breath is hot as he leans down to your neck. he traces your skin with his nose, lips hovering just above. only pressing when he speaks.

"M-Malleus, please," his name was still foreign on your lips, having to remind yourself to call him such while you were here. his chest rumbles warmly as he chuckles, breath coming in puffs against your exposed skin.

"perhaps you are greedy for my affections to." he teases, finally giving you what you want. his mouth is warm and soft as he places kisses over your neck, your head bent in the opposite direction to give him more room to spoil you.

you can feel the fae practically purr in delight at the small gasps and whines you let out. his fangs are sharp as they brush against your skin, but he never bites down with them, only teasing.

"stay with me while I read, won't you?" he whispers the request in your ear, letting you feel the vibrations of his voice against the cartilage.

"j-just like this?" you asked, practically trembling on his lap. he pulls away, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger. glowing green eyes, sinister enough to match the flames of the fireplace, trace your body. you feel fully exposed and vulnerably to the creature before you, to spite still being fully clothed.

"you are shaking, I suppose that won't do." he comments. his eyes flicker back to yours for a moment, sly grin pulling at his mouth. "I think I have a solution for you, Child of Man."

he reaches to the table he'd placed his book on, and retrieves a small vial. the liquid held within is a dark slate grey, but it shimmers mysteriously in the low lighting.

"open this." he instructs. you do as told, placing the stopper on the table and holding the vial, expecting his next orders to be to drink it.

he does nothing of the sort, instead covering your smaller hand with his, and having you bring the vial to his lips. his eyes hold your gaze intently as he guides you to tilt it, letting the liquid fall past his lips and into his mouth.

you set the vial down on the table, turning your attention back to him in time to see a shift in his gaze. half lidded now, and the bright green burns lower, closer to an emerald now.

hes quick but not harsh as he grabs you by the back of your neck and pulled you in to kiss him. Malleus tilts your chin up, letting the liquid fall into your mouth. it holds no flavor, just a slight acidic fizz.

you are far more distracted by the way his tongue tangles with yours. obediently swallowing the substance you are rewarded by his tongue, gentle but heavy as he holds you still. using your mouth has he pleases.

"good, now relax for me." he coos as he pulls away. your eyelids droop as a warm and tingly feeling spreads across your limbs. it comes to rest heavy in your stomach, causing you to let out a whimper.

Malleus chuckles, dark and deep in his chest. it rumbles against your cheek as he tucks you into his own body.

"shh now, I won't forget your needs, little one. just be patient for now, and let that potion do its work."

#twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst x mc #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #vil schoenheit #twst vil #vil shoenheit x reader #epel felmier #twst epel #epel x reader

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.”

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

* * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger!

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at.

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black.

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me.

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios

#corpse #corpse husband #corpsehusband #husband #corpse husband fanfic #corpse simp #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #x reader #reader #request #requests open

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chaos-writes-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

Dating his teammates sister

Pairings: Kyotani × fem!reader

Warnings: strong language, minor angst Hajime being an ass, use of pet names babe/baby, puppy

Being the younger sister of Hajime Iwaizumi just one year younger being a second year at Aoba Josai most of the vbc know you are his younger sister but none of them including your older brother knew you were dating one of the second years. Except of course the boy in question.

You were walking back to school after going home, Haji had forgotten his knee pads and new volleyball shoes so you were going back to take them to him. You were a little excited that you got to see your boyfriend too while dropping things off even if you didn't get to show it. You walk into the gym and some of the guys were still trickling in.

“Hey Maki” you said walking in

“Yes?” He asked

“Can you get my brother?” You asked “he forgot stuff at home so I brought him some things”

“Yeah I’ll be right back” he said and he left going to the locker room.

While waiting you lean against the wall near the door. While you had been at home you changed into a pair of sweat pants and one of Kyotani’s shirts you had stolen without his knowledge.

“You have stuff for me?” Haji asked

“Yes you forgot your new shoes and knee pads mom sent me with them” you said giving him the bag “and a bento since you’re not going to be home anytime soon since you’re staying late with Kawa”

“Aww how sweet” Oikawa said walking up and ruffling your hair

“Hands off kawa” you said smacking his hand away “I’ve known you most of my life but I’m not a kid anymore”

“So mean” he said pouting

“Hes all yours Haji” you said rolling your eyes

“Where’d you get that shirt?” Haji asked frowning

“Why do you care?” You asked

“Because its obviously not yours” he said

“I’m not late?” Kyotani asked walking in just barely

“We haven’t started yet” Haji said “now answer the question where’d you get the shirt”

“My boyfriend” you said smirking

“I’m sorry what? Boyfriend since when?” He asked

“Yes boyfriend and a little over 6 months” you said trying your hardest to not look at Kyotani “mom knows about him”

“Who is he?” He asked frowning

“I’m not telling, it’s fun that way” you said “I’m going home now”

You skipped out of the gym leaving your frustrated brother to practice. The next day you walked to school, with a breakfast for your brother since he had a morning practice, and two more bentos one for you and the other Kyotani for lunch. You once again walk into the boys gym the boys were actually practicing this time.

“Haji” you said waving your brother over

“What?” He asked walking over

“Breakfast” you said handing him the bento

“Thanks” he said “are you going to tell me who this boyfriend is yet?”

“No, not yet” you said “we dont want to tell people yet”

“If you’ve been together as long as you claim you have been it’s a bit suspicious” he said “to keep it secret for so long”

“Oh yes because you know everything, ever thought that we like our privacy?” You asked rolling your eyes

“I’m just saying are you sure he actually cares about you?” He asked

“What the fuck Haji?” You asked tears welling up in your eyes “why would you ever say that to me? I’m your sister”

You run away crying. And the team heard everything. The three, second years all of them being in your class ran after you leaving Oikawa to yell at Hajime for even suggesting something like that.

“Watari, check the classroom” Yahaba said “I’ll check the library, Kyotani check the roof ”

The three boys nodded going where they agreed upon. You were sitting outside on the roof knees pulled up to your chest crying. You loved your brother but for him to say something so cruel was unlike him. A few minutes later Kyotani walked through the door.

“Hey puppy” he said walking over to you

“Hey babe” you said voice still teary

He sat down behind you and pulled you into his lap. You turn in his lap and bury your face into his neck as he rubbed your back.

“You know I love you right puppy?” He asked kissing your temple

“Yes, I love you too” you said sniffing

“I can’t believe your brother actually said that” he said

“Me either” you said resting your head on his shoulder

He wiped your tears and rocked you in his lap gently.

“Let’s tell them today” he said softly

“Are you sure?” You asked

“Yes I don’t like anyone doubting that I care about you” he said

“He didnt know he was talking about you” you said

“Doesn’t matter” he said kissing your cheek “come on let’s go”

You nod and go through the rest of the day sticking around the second year boys who were all worried about you still and you tell Yahaba and Watari to go ahead for their game today.

“Let’s go puppy” he said standing beside your desk

“Okay” you said

He had you stand up and you taking his hand going the back way to the gym that he always takes.

“Iwaizumi you need to talk to your sister” Hanamaki said

“I know” he said sighing

“The second years have kept her at arms length all day” Oikawa said

“We’re in the same class” Yahaba said “and we all care about her”

“Where is she now?” Haji asked

Just as he asked that you walk into gym with Kyotani, he had his arm over your shoulder bringing you close to him your arm going around his back.

“Mad dog?” Oikawa asked “you’re being very friendly with little iwa”

“Yeah and?” Kyotani asked annoyed

“She has a boyfriend” Oikawa said

“He knows” you said turning into him hugging him to hide your smirk feeling much better with your boyfriend at your side

“I’m well aware of her boyfriend” he said feeling your smirk through his shirt

“Since when are you all touchy with my sister?” Haji asked

“Iwaizumi you know I respect you, but you owe her an apology” Kyotani said coldly

“You’re right, Sis” he said “I’m sorry I never should’ve said what I did, I just worry about my baby sister I just want to make sure you’re being treated right”

“He does treat me right, Haji” you said turning to look at Hajime “I wouldn’t be with him for six months if he didnt”

“Then why are you suddenly so close with Kyotani?” Mattsun asked

“You all are dumbasses” Kyotani said rolling his eyes

You pull away slightly looking up at him and tug on his jacket. He smirks before leaning down and giving you a kiss on the lips his hand on your cheek. You hear the other guys gasp and swear that you heard Oikawa scream in shock. He pulls away and kisses your forehead. Before looking at his team that’s crowded around you two.

“Understand now?” Kyotani asked “I am the boyfriend”

#haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#hq x y/n #hq x reader #hq kyoutani #hq koutarou #kentaro kyotani #kyotani kentaro #kyotani x reader #kyotani #kentaro #slight angst #secret relationship #relationship reveal

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funtaleau · 2 years

Text

This is a vent and I QUIT

I censor some words specially the characters related not because its bad words but because no matter how right I am, MOST PEOPLE WILL ONLY HELP THE BAD GUY. I just want to work my story in peace without any IDIOTS STEALING MY IDEAS AND SLAP OVERLY SEXUAL LOOK THEN MAKE PEOPLE ATTACK ME FOR STUPID REASON. Funny because the person who steal my work once said that they will respect me better, so respectful indeed :)

I couldn't tell who is this person cause if i did, I fear that most people would turn against me. Im not dealing with some random cringe person who likes to copy other stuff but this time Im dealing with a quite well known person in the UT community, at least since early this year- But In short This person I once called friend. When we first meet they said that they found my work to be quite interesting and they wish to know "more". I was still very excited at the time because we rarely see AUs or UT stories that mostly focus on the pacifist side without much angst or skeletons that are too OP to die But

welp i fell for the oldest trick in the book and this person stole most of my ideas and design and since they are quite popular their stolen work get known much easier while for me are left rotting in the back. I tried to solve this problem In a more calm way but this person really loves to play acting saying things like "I Will respect you more", "Im sorry It wouldn't happen again" , and the worst excuse of all "You don't have to be mad, Im just an underrated artist".... Hmmmmyes 2K followers are consider to be underrated. Not to mention they are quite a pervert too And unfortunately they continue their stupidity. I tried to call for help but most people didn't want to help me "because they are better than me", or "because they help me once", and "Everyone can have that idea, its not yours to claim" . Just because someone help you that doesn't Mean you owe your whole life for them, That's just plain stupid logic. And that came from people who i consider as "friend".

When this person finally got what they deserve, those "friends" i said earlier back them up for a very stupid excuse. I know there are artist who also Made suggestive and nsfw arts and myself too are not against that (except if its about things that are wrong like weird fetishes and pedo-) but drawing nsfw content and exposing it to kids are FRICKING WRONG. Either with their Consent or not that's are so WRONG. Let alone not even care to put a single warning but instead putting even more dirty caption like "Big booba lady" or "I want to squeeze it" are just...... I don't think this is humanity anymore but cant even call it monstrocity either. Its just stupidity

Im just tired of people with 0 mind of thinking. I've been working for my story since 2019 1 while this clone exist just early this year. the person who copy me left the server and fricking blocked me on their social so I cant do .much I tried to ask for help but all I receive from my "friends" is that they are busy. but when this clone guy make something wrong they all help them... just wow.. fricking WOW I had enough.... just enough is enough now that's why I stop making UT content since weeks ago cause I just had enough with this non sense. I don't have anymore will to continue my work anymore If people just want to make STUPID comparison about what obviously plagiarism. people defending them for even more stupid reason "Because they're art style are better than you" and "everyone can have that idea, its not yours to claim" also "they're just Inspired" Inspire WHAT? they upload the overly sexual clone right in front of my eyes and say nothing about "this is inspired from" NO.. all they say is how BIG the Breast are and how much they want to sleep on/squeeze it. FRICKING CREEPS

they are so respectful that they don't need to credit the owner and yep. Im just had enough with this I think imma stop making UT contents for god who knows how long cause im TIRED. I might post some art but they are not Undertale related... Im so sorry. "Im just jealous"... OF COURSE IM JEALOUS what did you expect me to feel??? I work so hard and have to deal with already frustrating pressure from parents and college to create something new and unique but only for someone who I once consider as "friend" stab me in the back and steal my character and ideas then get all the fame and credits for it while Im left to rot with nothing but those stupid comments.

after this I will not be working on Funtale anymore but I've given this AU to a friend @thelazysense . Im so sorry but I just couldn't deal with this much pressure.

#i gave up #venting #im tired #personal vent

38 notes · View notes

gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Fool

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | six

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: It all spills over.

Word count: 8.8k~

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/tags: SMUT (WE MADE IT FOLKS), thigh riding, fingering/hand job, very brief breathplay/choking, cum eating¿? Angst/emo shit (I'm so sorry i have no self control)

Notes: HI FRIENDS, wow it's been a minute. Sorry for the massive delay. For anyone wishing to start KOC, now would be the perfectly spicy chapter to do so! This chapter was Herculean. idk why. Love you guys, enjoy! x (gif credit : @djarinsgf)

“Maker,” you bemoan, shielding your face from the heavy beat of the suns.

You’ve known warmth—you were raised in warmth. This is beyond it.

It’s not just warm, it’s sweltering. The heat is oppressive, congealing the air to mist; you can barely see through it what with the sweat running into your eyes. Tall, craggy dunes line the valley of desert, trapping the planet’s hot pulse within their walls. Your steps crunch along the dry, pebbled earth as you swat at the gnats buzzing in ribbons around your head.

A muffled gurgle sounds from behind you and you slow to a halt, boots gritting into the cracked top soil.

“You doing alright back there, Munch?” you ask, craning your head to the child nestled into the carrier fashioned onto your back. A green ear pokes free from the top, and you can see the jewel of his black eyes peering at you through the gauzy cloth you draped over it. He grunts, and you give a small shrug—shifting the pack by the straps, eliciting a giggle out of him. “We can always turn back, okay? I’m not going to be mad.” Another noise, a happy coo this time, and you shimmy your shoulders again, jostling the bag playfully.

“Well, you just let me know.”

Your conversations usually unfold this way. They leave much to be desired, but you’d like to think you understand one another—in fact, you probably understand the kid more than you understand his dad.

You’ve grown close with him, you’ll be the first to admit it. You’re attached to each other. The little one has been your constant companion for these months and in some ways, you suppose he takes care of you just the same as you take care of him. The chamber of space can be lonely; it’s cold and unkindly reflective, stranding you to the echoed chain of your thoughts—but when he tugs at your hair or slobbers spittle down the front of him or crawls up into your lap to nestle into your tunic, it feels like you belong there—there on the Crest, streaming through the galaxy.

And maybe, simply, it feels good to do right by a child—as if you could make up for it somehow, within yourself. To do better than you were given.

Squinting, you raise your wrist to check the coordinates on your comm and shade a hand over the screen, blocking the glare cast onto the display. “Almost there,” you mumble, resuming your stride as you begin the last leg of the trek to the settlement you and Mando discussed that morning.

“What?” he asked, planted some paces away from you.

You hummed a curious note, glancing to him.

“What is it?”

You were trying to be small all morning—shrunken and shy, avoiding the thought and avoiding him all together. You quieted yourself, as if to not take up space, but the attempt was fruitless; of course he picked up on it – you get good at reading people on the job, he’d said – and of course he called you out on your behavior. You took a big gulp of your caf, gaze flickering down—increasingly more and more invested in the scuffs marked into the table you sat at.

“Dala,” he said pointedly, arms folding over the breadth of his chest.

Shit. Who did you think you were fooling? Playing possum with a Mandalorian?

Worrying your lip, you stood. You couldn’t bear to look up at him, just looming there across the table from you, so you paced around the deck as you rambled. “Okay, so you know how I’m still connected to the RRM channels? Well, I’ve been checking the message boards and I—there’s a settlement here out in the Wastes. It’s small and new and they’re looking for volunteers and—”

You whistled in a breath. Fuck it.

“And I want to help.”

Like the toggle of a switch, you went from having a career—having a purpose—to having nothing. And all your gratitude for the transport he’s offering couldn’t fill that empty lull that’s settled inside you.

“Would you be comfortable with letting me take the kid? I know I’m probably asking a lot—and I will fully respect whatever you decide—but I can keep him by me the whole time, I swear, I just—” You shook your head, pinching your eyes shut before sighing, “I need to be doing something. Anything.”

There was a long pause. You scratched at the torn skin around your cuticle, nervously searching the pitch of his wordless visor. He didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even twitch.

“That’s fine,” he finally remarked, graveled.

You blinked, taken aback at his agreement, and all at once your fidgeting ceased and a bright grin broke out over your features in its place.

It nearly brought him to his knees.

“Wait, seriously?” you asked, bouncing on the balls of your feet and he nodded, a subtle tilt to his helm. “Maker, thank you,” you exclaimed, and without thinking you flew towards him, flinging your arms around his neck and sealing yourself to his armored frame. His arms escaped out from his chest in surprise, suspended and stiff, before falling measuredly to his sides. You could’ve been imagining it, but you swore you heard the distinct grit of his teeth grinding together under his helmet.

“Really Mando,” you beamed, pulling back to lay your eyes on him, to let him see the earnest there: you have no idea how much this means to me. “Thank you.”

You gave his shoulders a squeeze, thumbs brushing along the scratchy fabric of his cape before tearing yourself away. Swiping up your mug of caf, you wound down the corridor - airy, buoyant - back to your makeshift quarters to prepare for your outing. It took him another minute just to get his damn feet to move from the spot on the durasteel you welded him to.

Din told you to be safe.

You smiled, and promised you would.

You left the Crest before him and it was strange, surreal. For the first time, you stood in each other’s shoes, leaving Din there on his own while you set off into the world. He watched you go—you and his boy—watched you walk away into some great unknown without him.

And he didn’t like it.

He soured, somewhere in the deep of him—within that pit he called a gut, he twisted sick.

Your feet hit the ramp, dull and tinny, and it sounded like goodbye—it sounded like you leaving. It’s what it will look like when time and fate touch, and inevitability catches up with him. It’s what it will look like when he takes you home. You’ll walk out of his life, down that same ramp, and your steps will echo those same beats. You won’t look back.

And Din, with all his strength, all his unshakeable resolve—Din will let you go.

///

The encampment is settled into the shadow of a cliffside, seeking respite there from the blazing suns, the taupe of the canvas shanties camouflaging into the arid landscape. Some crawl their gaze up as you enter the village, and you offer them smiles they do not return. Others do not acknowledge your presence at all— unstirred as your footsteps sound past, their heads bound heavy towards the earth. It’s not long before a decisive voice cuts through the hush that’s claimed the settlement.

“Are you with the RRM?”

You turn and are greeted by a woman ducking out of a tent—the grey of her woven tunic browned with sand, heat collecting in her black, coiled hair.

“Yes, I’m with the Movement.” It’s not a total lie. Sure, you’re on leave, but that doesn’t discount you completely. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

With a sharp exhale like a prayer of relief, she makes her way towards you. “Where’s the rest of your division?” Her eyes narrow discerningly, flitting behind you as if expecting to spot the rear of your party trickling in.

“It’s, uh—it’s just me,” you confess, pressing your lips together in a thin smile.

She rakes a hand over her hair, over her face. The skin around her knuckles is split, the beds of her nails chalked with days of unwashed grime. “Alright,” she concedes begrudgingly, without any better option presented. “And who is this?” She nods to the child, emerging from the pack and staring curiously at her.

“This is—” You take a moment to consider it—consider the secrecy around the child, the bounties, the life on the lam. Less is more, you decide. Again, it’s not a total lie. “I’m babysitting.”

The kid grunts an emphatic patu.

You both share a look—a quirk of her dark brow, an apologetic heft of your shoulder—and she sighs. “Well, I’ll take all the help I can get,” she quips dryly with a wave of her hand, leading you into the settlement.

///

She’s coarse, this woman—Arlaani, she told you—matronly and effective. She has a calculating gaze and powerful shoulders that she holds steady as she shows you through the camp. There are lines around her eyes, carved into the curves of her mouth. She knows what you know—what all women learn: sometimes you must be hard in order to keep others soft.

You walk shoulder to shoulder, matching her long strides with your own.

“The Black Sun has taken the southern hemisphere; their numbers have only grown since the Battle of Yavin. Pirates, mercenaries, spice runners—they’ve ransacked one half of the planet and have the officials of the other half in their pocket,” she scowls. “They have stolen our land, our homes—we’re moisture farmers, mechanics, mothers and fathers. We are simple people and we have been forgotten by our government—by those who vowed to represent us, protect us.” Arlaani draws in a long breath. “We’re on our own out here in the Wastes.”

You survey the area; the lifeless ocean of rock and sand, the few scattered trees that have died on their feet—roots withering bone dry in the suns. “Why settle here if it’s so uninhabitable?”

She huffs a humorless laugh. “Because, it’s uninhabitable,” Arlaani explains. “No one robs a beggar. There is nothing in the Wastes the Black Sun wants.”

There are no buildings, no structures; the whole area is undeveloped and raw. Tents are dotted sporadically in clusters, crates of supplies and water canteens stationed every other one. Children dawdle idly, tired and overheated, leaning against boxes and posts—their bellies distended and skin parched taut. Flies land on their shins, on their cheeks. They do not go to shoo them away.

“The Movement supplied those for us when we landed,” she comments, nodding to the crates. “That was two months ago.”

“No one has come back to check on you since?” you ask, brows notching together.

She shakes her head solemnly, jaw set rigid. “Our little ones go hungry, our elders are sick with red fever. We will run out of water before the week is through,” Arlaani says before she turns to you, holding your gaze—the seriousness evident in the stone of her eyes. “I thank the gods you are here.” She presses a palm to your shoulder. You feel the weight of it, the weight of her—of the lives she carries on her back.

“I thank the gods.”

///

You stop by each tent delivering what little food and medicine you brought with you from the Crest, and after each encounter—the people so grateful, so weary—your mind strays further and further to Mando.

Din, you scold yourself. Not Mando, Din. Din Djarin.

You still can’t bring yourself to say it.

He spent that whole fateful day nearly two weeks ago bristling at the very sight of you, going out of his way to limp to the other side of the ship just to ignore you better, only to do you in for one final head spin and give you his name.

Two weeks, and you still haven’t said it. There’s no other excuse: plainly - pitifully - you’re scared. You’re scared he regrets it.

Because how horrible of a truth would it be? To be offered something out of carelessness or guilt; to be the product of pity, or even worse, a mistake that cannot be unmade, cannot be rectified. He can’t take his name back, can’t unspeak it any more than you can unhear it, and this fear, picking at you like an old scab—it’s so painfully human, so terribly universal:

what if I’m not worth it?

And isn’t it easier to neglect the answer, then it is to ask the question.

So you’ve buried his name for both of your sakes, keeping it somewhere secret and private, there to garner dust in the quiet of your mind.

You’re brushing through the draped entrance of a tent when you spot him: a small boy hiding behind a supply crate, the top of his dusted head poking out over the ledge. You catch him peering at you, and he ducks down shyly. A honeyed grin blooms across your face.

“I think we’re being watched Munch,” you coo. The little ball of robes blinks up at you from your arms, earning his nickname tenfold as he crams his mouth with a flakey cracker. “You want to say hi?” He hums in response and you crouch, letting him wiggle free from you to toddle over to the other child. With small steps, he eventually makes it over to the other and immediately, without hesitation or provocation, extends one of his crackers to him.

Your heart swells until it bursts, proud and beautiful in your chest.

Munch leads him out from behind the box, the two boys shuffling slowly through the dirt back to you. He can’t quite meet your eyes—his gaze lands somewhere around your chin, your collarbone, and you fold forward, bent at the knees to meet his height.

“Do you have a name, sweetheart?” you ask kindly.

He nods, nibbling quietly on the cracker, and you breathe out a chuckle. “Not much of a talker, huh? I can respect that,” you say, eyes crinkling fondly with a smile. “Well if you want to tell me, you can—or not. That’s okay, too.”

He nods again, and you fish out more salty treats from the sleeve in your pack, gently handing them to the other—a gesture he nervously accepts, dirty fingers trembling as he plucks them from your open palm. This boy is precious—sweet faced and cherubic, he must not be a cycle over the age of seven.

And the realization comes so suddenly that it blindsides you—struck by it, there between your lungs: Din was his age when it happened—when life happened to him. When this could have happened to him.

You can’t help but think of it—think of him and everything he told you that night he came bleeding through the Razor Crest. You can’t stop imagining him; Din as a little boy tucked away, his people—his parents—decimated overhead. He is a Mandalorian by proxy. Displaced from his home, from his past, saved by a sect with an affinity for orphans—to protect those who cannot protect themselves. The irony of it all is not lost on you:

Din is a refugee too.

You see him in this boy, and in all the faces here—in every set of eyes, young and old alike. Each are individual - idiosyncratic - but they each wear the same qualifiers. The same exhaustion. They each fight the same tired battle, leaving them with identical sets of marks.

Does Din? If you were to see him, truly see him, would you find them there? You’ve seen the scars he’s earned from being a Mandalorian.

You wonder if he has any from simply being a man.

Pushing yourself to stand upright, you cradle Munch back into your chest, his teensy claws riddling your shirt, and offer the boy your hand—outstretched in front of you.

He’s cautious. Too cautious for a boy so young, for a child who should know nothing but abundant love and fearless imagination. He shouldn’t have had to learn this lesson: that some hands should not be taken, that some people should not be trusted. He studies you, hesitant but hopeful, and you smile softly—cycles of hard-won patience and empathy curving the corners of your lips.

He lays his small hand in your own. You walk on together.

///

The day blows by like hot desert wind, chafing at your skin. Minutes have ripened to hours—morning has crawled to midday.

The three of you finish your rounds— distributing rations throughout the camp, pitching tents, taking stock of the dwindling supplies for you to relay to the Movement once you return to the Crest and have access to your holopad.

It’s then that you notice Arlaani again. She’s speaking in hushed tones with another man, the both of them hunched over a large carton. You see the concern ticked clearly along the man’s jaw, the dread grooved into her brow, her crossed arms. With a frown, you plop the child down onto a nearby petrified log and the other boy joins, hopping up next to him, all too happy to get off his feet. You tell them not to wander off— a kiss to Munch’s forehead, a ruffle of the boy’s hair— before making your way to the couple.

“Hey,” you call, jogging over. “Is everything alright?”

Arlaani wheels around as you approach. It hasn’t been long since you’ve seen her, but somehow she looks older. Hollowed, drained— like there’s less and less in her. “It’s the water,” she grits out, “sand mites have gotten to the crates, to the canteens.” She tosses you one of the flasks. It’s littered with holes, porous and leaking— the remnants of water splashing out of the orifices bitten into the sides.

Arlaani dives through the crate, rifling through the supplies. She’s tense, upset, her voice is rife with it. “They’re all like this. Ruined, fucking—” She heaves out a hissed exhale and props herself up on the edge of the box, neck bowed between her shoulder blades. “This was the last of it, and now—now…”

The man tries his best - how do you comfort marble? - as he places an arm around her, his thumb drawing patterns there, reassuring and calm but she wants nothing of it; she gruffly shrugs it off as if stung, weaseling out of his hold. “I can’t— I need to think,” Arlaani bristles, as she paces away from the settlement, receding deeper into the Wastes.

“I’m sorry,” he stutters, “I have- I have to—” His eyes follow her shrinking form, worry apparent in the shape of them. It’s so obvious. He’s terrified of that woman—probably loves her, too.

“Go,” you say, and with a knowing expression, he turns and trots after her.

Heavy footed, heavy hearted, you trudge back to find the children exactly where you left them. Once there, you collapse to the hard ground, dust and dirt puffing up as you recline onto the log. Your palms run over the earth—scooping up sand and rock and letting it slip through the cracks of your fingers, gaze trained out onto the encampment—the people milling about, the miasma of helplessness stifling the air.

This isn’t enough. You’re not doing enough— these impermanent little nothings, your measly good deeds. It’s not going to matter. They’ll be bones by the time the next wave of volunteers rolls through. They’ll be grain.

You need to do something that lasts, that outlives you when you leave.

You glance over to the kid and his new friend, their little legs swinging off the edge of the trunk, heels thumping against the old wood. They look to you, two pairs of big eyes—crackers in their tiny fists.

“You boys ever dig a well?”

///|||///

The suns roast into his beskar, blistering him from the inside out.

The day has been long and it’s only half over. It took him longer than it should have to gather himself— his fob, his rifle, his fucking head—and depart the Crest. Longer than it should have to hunt the bounty here—some marauder scum who’s number is up and luck has run out. Longer than it should have to set up his sniper’s nest, sculpted into the mountainside.

Din is distracted, has been all day— has been since you left.

He can’t stop feeling you. Your warmth pushing against his chest, your arms looping around his neck, the heat of your palms searing through his flight suit. Din can smell you on him still— like citrus and moss, you cling to his cowl from where you buried your head.

It’s intolerable. It feels like an infection with how it’s been building, how this has spread— slowly but surely rearing to an unignorable head. Serpentine and insidious as it crept through him, this growing affliction— this morbid curiosity that spoiled like rotting stonefruit into infatuation— slipping along his bones and organs, blemishing Din in faint little licks— imperceptible to the naked eye but there all the same.

How did this happen? How did he become this?

You’ve been more relaxed now, bolder in some ways. Transparent. Sometimes, you’ll touch his arm as you walk by him or sweep your hair from your neck when you sit by his side in the cockpit, star shine on your jaw. You’re quick with a laugh, lips pulling back into a pretty grin. He’s even caught you staring at him, there out of the corner of his eye—from where he steals those same glances under the safety of his helm.

He spied you once, just a glimpse of your backside, padding quietly away from the shower with only your underwear on, drops of water tracking down your spine. It was brief, you were fast—you must have forgotten your shirt in your bunk—but he had to lock himself in his quarters and fuck his hand before he could even think about piloting the Crest into the stratosphere.

Din is a lot of things, but he isn’t daft. A part of him knows. A part of him is aware that you are two very human people with very human needs—and that you’ve been ignoring these primal aches with premeditated dereliction for months now.

And you can only dance around each other so long before one of you snaps.

And Maker, he’s so desperate to be rid of you—to get you out of his fucking system; to let him sleep without dreaming of you, to let him wake without plunging into his briefs and jerking himself off. You are everywhere. In his ship, in his galley, in his thoughts. He has no privacy, he has no sanctity— he has no idea how you have managed to worm yourself so deep into every living part of him. Others have tried and they have failed, and you— you did it in your sleep. From that very first fucking night, curled up in his chair, gore and ash stained tunic rising with your slumbered breathing. You snored.

You fucking snored.

And now you’re killing him— just as the suns above, you are blistering him from the inside out.

His level-headedness has all but evaporated. He’s peeved. Not only is Din distracted, but he's angry— has been since he plodded up this damn hill, waiting for his quarry to pass through the ravine between the valley of mountains—because instead of performing his job, he’s consumed with you. All of you.

He kneels, flattening himself against the rocky sand— your hands, so small and soft against him— and unclips the rifle from the strap on his back—how good you’d feel on his skin—he aligns his sights— the weight of your breasts in his palms—

His helmeted head clunks to the ground and he loses his aim, a frustrated growl emanating out from him. Focus, Mando. Fucking focus.

Din reorients his crosshair, training it on the gang of pirates in the gorge below. They lean haphazardly over their speeders, their cargo nets packed full with different wares and spices, jeering loudly and chugging from the jugs of spotchka they undoubtedly looted earlier that afternoon. He inspects the rabble, searching for his target and—those pretty lips that smile so easy for him, stretched around his length.

Fuck. He pinches his eyes shut.

You whispering husky into his ear as you ride him, you bent over the pilot’s chair begging for his cock, you sprawled out over the deck while he laps at your sweet cunt.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck— he can’t do this. He can’t fucking do this. You’re everywhere everywhere everywhere— you buffer his vision, his senses, his sight. He’s blinded with you. You’re blinding him.

With an infuriated heave he shoves himself off the ridge of the dune, bounty-less, and reverses his course back to the Crest—heart beating furious and bloody against his ribs.

///

The settlers surround the trench, peering down at you as you work. Hours ago, when you originally proposed this idea to Arlaani, they insisted on helping— to which of course, you insisted they didn’t. And so they watch— the refugees, Din’s foundling, the nameless boy— mangling their hands restlessly, animated with an inkling of that all too lethal substance long sought after by those of all species and creeds: hope.

You sink the shovel into the dry earth and your muscles burn with the effort—the skin on your palms stings from the rough grate of the wooden dowel and the yawn of your back strains as you pitch forward.

You’ve missed this.

You’ve been so distracted. You’ve grown comfortable in your routines, you’ve let yourself go listless—living in blissful ignorance—all because of a metal man in his metal ship with the most impossible and darling child you’ve ever known. All because your body reacts at the very sight of him, all because your belly flips when he speaks, that modulated purr rumbling loose from his beskar, all because, because—

You like him.

You wish you didn’t—you hardly know why you do—but you’ve soaked your fingers enough times in your rack to realize that this thing residing within you burns.

You can’t even see his face, and you don’t have to. His presence alone— that raw, vacuous energy that surges from him—it’s addicting. It's engulfing. It makes you whimper into the night, massaging your pearled clit as your other hand muffles your moans and you come over and over and over again, chasing after the fantasy you so dangerously harbor for this man. The man who’s piloting you back to Coruscant—the man who sleeps just down the hall.

But that isn’t real. That’s not real life— that’s not your life. This is real—the fuchsia of the setting suns blazing through the horizon, the sweat on your brow. You’ve missed this— Maker, you need this. Working with your hands, making an impact. You’re wanted here and kriff, does that not feel so unabashedly right. To be wanted. To be important.

Your back groans, the sinew woven over your spine aching in protest and you know, without a doubt, you’ll feel this for the next week. Half of you dreads it—being cooped up and sore, lactic acid compacting your joints— while the other excites at the prospect; the memory of a good deed lasting long after it’s finished. That reminder always there, always present: see, there’s still hope in the galaxy. We can still do good. There’s goodness where you look for it.

You fling dirt over your shoulder as you burrow lower and lower. With each shove, the soil changes hue, changes density—the striations darker, more definitive. It’s less dry now, thicker too—turning from sand to clay the deeper you dig. Again, you drive the spade into the sod with a taxed grunt, when you hear a distinct, wet squish.

You pause, stilling your shovel in the dirt. Everything - everyone - freezes.

Adrenaline thrums through you as you drop to your knees, using your hands to brush away loose silt piled atop the loamy floor, excavating what lies beneath.

Prayers and hollers erupt above you and you lurch your focus up to the sound, a feverish grin plastered to your face. The little boy jostles the child excitedly, and his green talons rumple the other’s tattered tunic. Your head falls back, cushioned by the dirt wall and you laugh - gargled, relieved - as water begins to seep through the tired ground.

Bubbling up, bubbling up—unearthing.

///

The promise of ridding yourself of your soiled clothes was the singular thought that fueled your trek back to the Crest. Every inch of you was filthy, caked in dried mud and gritty sand and you wanted nothing more than to strip from those dirty layers and melt into your bedroll. The kid, that lucky little bugger, had passed right out; sun drunk from his long day, he’d slept the entirety of the return trip—stirring only once when you placed him in the hover pram and sealed it shut.

Your bones are worn. Your tissue, your tendons— every little scrap that keeps you stitched together craves sleep. You reckon you should feel miserable, what with the tell-tale stiffness already burdening your spine and the fresh callus from the shovel’s handle reddening your palm.

But you’re not miserable, not even close. No, you’re happy—you’re glowing; fulfilled and serene, humming as you wash your pants in the basin, kneading at the sopping fabric. You wring out the article, shaking free the excess droplets before draping it on a metal rung overhead. You peel off your shirt and bra band next, leaving you only in your underwear as you plop them into the bowl and begin to scrub at the stains, concentrating on a particularly dirty patch at the sleeve.

The grating mechanics of the Crest’s great jaw unhinging sends your stomach bounding frantic to your lungs.

Kriff—shit shit shit, he’s back early.

Clutching onto your modesty, you cover your breasts and scramble to your quarters, quickly shimming a loose tunic over your head. Its hem barely covers the curve of your ass and you tug long at the cloth before peeking cautiously from the doorway and tiptoeing out of your room.

“Hey,” you warble, rounding a corner as solid feet pound up the ramp—you can feel their reverberations in the floor under your own. You pad into the galley, pulling at your shirt as you go, to tidy up the washing you left unattended. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so—”

You falter.

He’s there at the mouth of the ship, the ramp drawing slowly up behind him and he’s fuming; you can practically see the steam lifting from his armor and his breathing is labored—chest rising, plummeting violently. You both stand immobilized on opposite sides of the hull—you, bare-legged and exposed and Din, all but anonymous under the steeled fury of his armor. Finally, the sound dampens, ship shuddering as she seals shut—sealing you in—and the leather of his fist creaks in the silence hanging dense like smoke around you.

“Mando...?”

He doesn’t grace you with a response. Instead he begins to stalk forward, stripping weapon after weapon from himself with every thundering step—rifle, blaster, vibroblade—he sloughs it all, metal clanging against metal as they clatter to the deck.

“Hey, what’s wrong-”

He’s not stopping. Fuck, he’s getting closer and closer and instinctually you back up—staggering until you’re pressed against the bulkhead—his broad frame crowding you until all you see is the silver polish of his beskar. You jolt when his hands fly up and slam into the wall behind you, framing either side of your head, fencing you between his forearms. Your lips part, wide-eyed and confused, and you gulp around the nervous lump threatening your voice.

“Do you have any idea,” he seethes, “what you do to me?”

“W-What-” Your stammering is cut short as he slots his thigh between your legs and you have to tilt your chin to meet his visor, a gasp finding itself on your tongue.

“Strutting around my ship, putting your hands on me, that kriffing smile…” Din ruts his knee into your heat, and you’re practically hoisted onto your toes. Your core pulses against the blunt pressure, blood racing to the throb at your center.

Maker, you could fucking faint.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this—about you?” His voice is tar black—smooth like obsidian—and you succumb to it. You can’t speak; any and all language evaporating from the forefront of your mind, because he’s everywhere. He’s inescapable and smothering and his scent floods over you, intoxicatingly wild—like iron and sand and something dangerous. Something heady, carnal.

“Is this what you want?” he hisses.

You’ve gone dumb. You’ve imagined this, you’ve dreamt of this, but now it’s actually happening—here, in the flesh, it’s finally happening and you’re trembling with the reality of it. All you can muster is a shaky nod, tongue darting out over your lip.

“Tell me,” he orders, scanning your face behind the guise of his helm. You feel his gaze rove over your eyes, your cheek—fanning across your lips.

Your breath hitches.

“Yes,” you whisper, “yes I want this.“

It’s all it takes.

Din is rougher than he means to be. He wears this as he wears his armor, plating the soft parts of himself he doesn’t want anyone touching. He doesn’t know anything else. He doesn’t know how to be anyone else but this.

He grabs a handful of your waist, rooting you still as he rolls his thigh against you. You inhale an airy noise, grappling onto his other arm stationed by your head and you bite your lip, sucking it into your mouth. Your cunt spasms for him as he presses up into your mound, fightless against the groan that seeps through you.

“You like that?” he pants. ”You like fucking my thigh?”

Din manhandles your hips, his hold on you vicious as he rocks you back and forth on his plated leg, your clit catching on the cold edge of his thigh guard with each motion. It sends hot sparks down your spine and you trap a moan behind your teeth, letting the sound rumble there before you swallow it. His hand weaves up from your waist, the drag of his glove setting fire to your skin as he passes over the swell of your clothed breast, and you arch into his palm as he swipes a thumb over a nipple. “You want more?”

He splays his large hand, groping at your plump flesh, and pinches your nipple hard until it pebbles through your shirt. With each sharp twist, his intention becomes clearer: it won’t be enough to skate by on moans alone.

“I asked you a question.”

Din slides his other hand to the small of your back, drawing you flush to his front, and you can feel him— the outline of his firm length twitching under his flight suit against your hip. He cranes over you, intimidating and menacing and achingly devious. The panel of his visor has never looked darker.

“Use your words, dala,” he husks.

You should be embarrassed by this—by your need made evident through the soaked lining of your underwear—but you aren’t. The heat that stipples your cheeks isn’t born from shame, it’s sprung from lust—pure and primal—and you can’t afford to give it any further consideration because all there is is this man wrenching sounds from you like an animal— and he’s scarcely even touched you yet.

“Your fingers,” you whimper, “I want your hands."

He learned this lesson within those first weeks—relearns it every fucking day. You could ask him for anything - everything - and he would oblige.

He can’t say no to you.

He shifts out from between you, hooking into the elastic of your panties and tears them down your thighs to rest just above your knees, the spread of your legs keeping them from dropping to your ankles.

Patiently - tortuously - he scrapes up your legs, leaving embers in his wake as he trails higher higher higher to where you need him most. You’re shivering—nerve endings fried and frayed—and every atom inside you hums with anticipation, with unbridled impulse.

The orange tips of his gloves dimple your inner thighs - squeezing, massaging - before he tilts his helmet, angling himself to see you better, and paws your swollen lips apart.

Your pussy is drooling for him.

He moans something indecipherable— a curse in Mando’a—at the sight of you glistening for him under the dimmed lights like this, and immediately you buck your pelvis to him, hungry for his touch—and the pathetic noises babbling out of you prove too much for him to bear.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, ripping a glove off and tossing it aside, “I need to feel you.”

Your eyes have dilated with want, blackened as you watch Din retrace his bare hand—that gorgeous thing you’ve never seen, only ever fantasized about—back to your heat and slowly - so fucking slowly - pass a finger through your slit.

You throw your head back, knocking against the durasteel. The mewl that escapes you is inhuman.

He’s so warm. His tan skin is molten—it’s like he brought the sun in with him, as if he’s burning that star straight into your sex. You’re slippery with arousal; you can feel how glossed you are, you don’t have to look. You can hear it—hear the obscene squelches he’s stroking from your seam.

“Maker, you’re - shit - you’re wet,” he groans loudly, reveling in the way you pitch your hips—seeking his warmth, his friction. He’s been toying with you, drawing patterns along your pussy and playing with your puffy folds, but he hasn’t even come close to your clit. You know it’s no accident. Din is methodical in all things, he doesn’t make mistakes. This is a decision—it’s intentional. You think, perhaps, he’s looking to break you—some sort of retribution for these months you’ve spent swimming in circles around each other—and you think, perhaps, you’d let him.

That you’d like it.

When Din grants you mercy, finally gliding his index along your neglected bundle of nerves, reflexively you fist into his cowl, knuckles going pale.

“Stars-” you exclaim—just like that.

He handles your body like he does one of his pistols - practiced, unparalleled - encircling your clit with precision, his finger on your trigger—blinding, perfect agony swiveled into your sweet cleft.

When he pushes himself inside you, all the oxygen gets punched out of your lungs.

“Fuck, and so tight,” Din growls, bending at the knuckle to curl over that spongy spot of your walls that makes you gape, makes your brain go slack. Your arms scamper around his pauldrons, nails scraping sharp over beskar. The heel of his hand presses into your clit and you grind against him, each roll of your hips pleading a filthy please please please as you chase after the orgasm he’s baiting you with.

He responds to that, bourboned praise dripping smug from his smirk. “Fuck, look at you, so desperate—gonna cum for me already?”

You don’t have the wherewithal to formulate a response. He’s fit another finger into you, fucking up into you hard—fucking you exactly how you need him to. It feels like you are about to shatter right there on your feet. It’s almost unbearable, this mounting tension that’s climbing within you. You’ve been so starved for this, so deprived of a kind touch and a good fuck, and within no time at all he’s coaxing you to the ledge of your release.

“Mando,” you sob, entwining your fingers into his cape, grinding grinding grinding into his palm when suddenly, without warning, his ministrations cease—that burning coil abating to a simmer. You let out a rasped pant, collapsing forward onto his shoulder— your climax ripped away from you at the last, pivotal second.

Your eyes are screwed shut, you don’t see the movement—you can only feel it once it’s already there: the bounty hunter’s glove grating over your neck. You sputter out a gasp as he forces your jaw up to align with the chill of his visor, trapped in the unrelenting strength of his grasp. Your eyes clamber around the chrome boxing you in, gulping back the fear coalescing in your mouth.

“You say my name,” he gravels. “You say my name when I’m inside you.”

Your cunt spasms around the fingers still seated within you—aching for movement, aching to cum—and your lower lip quivers as he leers. “I gave it to you—say it,” he commands.

For a fleeting moment, in the remaining rational corner of your brain, it occurs to you that you’re terrified—that there may be no going back once you speak it. There’s no unmaking this choice. Like a door—a door that swings both ways—once it is cracked ajar, it cannot be closed again. Because you know yourself, you loathe to admit it, but you know his name will crumble you; that you will bend—that you will want to give and give and give to him— and still, despite, you lay onto the handle and fling that door wide open.

“Din.”

“Fuck,” he seethes. His reaction is visceral—the whole of him stiffens, leathered pads of his fingertips searing into your throat. “Again.”

“Din,” you whine as he rocks his fingers into your walls.

He moans, wanton and guttural, at the way his name tumbles from you like velvet. “Good girl—fuck, that’s good.”

He vanishes from your neck, bringing his hand down to cup his cock bulging painfully against the fabric there and your gaze snaps to it, saliva pooling in the well of your mouth. You slither your hand down his breast plate, over the paneling of his flight suit, trailing south until it lands on the hide of his glove. You stop, waiting there - breathless - until he nods curtly.

His hand falls away. You mold your palm to his length.

“Din,” you give freely, high-pitched and girly, and his cock brays under your hand. Fuck, he’s big—you can feel his mass through his pants and your pussy flutters around his fingers moving deliciously lazy inside you. Your eyes latch onto his, the brown of them hidden somewhere under the helm, and you can feel his own bore into you, weighing leaden there—

before you both simultaneously rupture.

Din’s fingers slip out of you to fiddle with the hem of his pants, unbuttoning in a clumsy flourish until he springs free with a groan of relief.

Maker.

He’s fucking divine—long and veined, with a patch of dark curls padding around the base of him. Din weeps for you already, frustrated and pent up from the confines of his restraints, beads of arousal dappling his head. He hisses as you swipe a digit over his cock, smearing his precum down the silken slope of him. You’re transfixed—the both of you staring as you wrap your hand around his shaft and he shudders, keening in to your touch.

“Mm, fuck you’re soft- kriff-”

Din dwarfs you—you barely fit around his girth—and he can’t help but buck into your palm as you begin to move in tandem. Din flicks at your clit, mirroring your pace as you get each other off. It’s awkward and lewd and perfect—both of you, a tapestry of woven limbs and sweat and you pump him harder and harder, choking his cock with your fist. You fuck him raw, the dry drag of your satin hand ripping curses from his mouth.

“Fuck, dala,” he pants, “I-I’m not—” I’m not gonna last. His words are snuffed out as you circle your wrist and brush a thumb over his leaking tip, forcing him to shiver. He doesn’t have to finish his thought, you understand plenty well. You’re dancing along that same precipice, flirting with the fall.

“Stars, yes,” you plead. Fuck, you want him to cum— you need him to. You need to make him feel good, to let him know that you’re here - you’re right here - and that he means more to you than you care to admit; that you want him—have since you first laid eyes on him, since he rescued you, since he took you back to the Crest and gave you the last of his bacta to heal all your splintered bits. That he deserves this—with all that he’s done for you, all that he’s doing for you—

with all that he his.

“Din—please.” Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re asking for—more of him, all of him—and a groan tears through his modulator at the sound of you begging his name—like he’s wounded, like it pains him to hear you say it.

It’s a race now—the two of you hurdling headlong towards this terrible, messy collision. You’re both sloppy—wet sounds and slaps of skin—as you stumble closer to the brink of release. He’s been rendered incoherent, chiseled down to the basest of grunts and broken words you don’t recognize. His thumb finds a devastating pressure on your swollen nub and your legs begin to vibrate, nearly unable to stand on your own two feet with how fucking perfectly he’s working your pussy.

This thing inside you feels giant - monstrous - and that slow wave that’s been building and building and cresting is here, upon you. You’re trapped in the barrel of it, and it’s going to crash at any moment and sweep you out to sea. Drown you—happily, gladly. “I’m - oh fuck—"

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises, tightening his circles on your clit. “Cum for me, cum on my hand-”

A crack of lightening streaks up your middle, the whole of you shaking as your orgasm rushes through, a sputtering cry let loose into the ship. You feel yourself gush, dripping past his thickness stuffing you full, dripping down your inner thighs. Din pulls out from you and you whimper at the loss—his absence leaving you gaping, leaving you bereft. You’re siphoning down air, dizzy from your release, when he raises his hand, glistening with your fluids, and traces your bottom lip—asking for entrance.

Fuck.

You part for him, eager and pliant, and he snakes two fingers inside—tasting your own tang and the leather residue left there, stamped into the whirls of his fingerprints. Your tongue swirls around them, laving him clean, and you drag over the ridges of his shaft— still hard and throbbing and waiting in your grasp. He bobs his fingers in your mouth, matching you thrust for thrust, and you let out a depraved little moan, humming around him, and all Din can do is watch.

Watch as he disappears between your lips—his skin pulling and catching on your plush flesh— watch as you suck on them, watch as he practically fucks your throat. And Maker, you take him so fucking well, letting him do what he pleases with your all too supple body.

He can’t even begin to imagine what his cock would look like—what it would feel like nestled in the hot cavern of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him like hard candy. Din doesn’t let himself—can’t. If he did, fuck, that’d be it. He’d be done for. He knows he’d cum in a flash and he wants to make this last—to hold on to this - onto you - for as long as he can, allow himself this singular concession. The only time, he convinces himself, the last time.

He won’t think about you again.

You quicken your rhythm and Din bucks wildly into your palm, his seizing and twitching alerting you to how close he is. He slides from your mouth, a string of saliva trailing along after as he clasps onto the back of your neck.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m—” Din knots into your hair, gripping you rough, panting frantic. “Fuck. Fuck, dala— cyare-”

With a hoarse shout, he slams his gloved fist into the durasteel and spills over himself in hot, thick pumps, spurts shooting out to splatter on your tunic, on his flight suit, on your knuckles. You ease him through it, his cum glazing down his cock before you slow to a languid stroke, his seed sticky under your palm. You’re panting, the both of you, spent noises reverberating ugly and loud against the metal sidings.

Din sinks his helmet to your forehead while you catch your breath, his cold beskar kissing your flushed skin—the density of it comforting, grounding. Your eyes teeter shut and you let yourself lean into him, a dazed grin tugging at your wet lips. This is— nice; so much gentler than the pace he drove not minutes before. Head to head, his hand buried in your hair, your arm slung over his hulking shoulders; your fingers thread into the askew fabric behind his neck to discover a sliver of skin treasured away underneath. You trace there - lightly, whispered - earning a fizzle of static sent whirring through his vocoder.

“Fuck,” Din mumbles, before unweaving himself and separating from you. Your legs have gone useless and rubbery—you almost face plant forward without him there— and by the time you blink open, he’s already tucked himself into his pants and picked up his glove, slotting it over those skilled fingers that had just filled you to the brim. He turns back round to find you staring at him through the haze of your afterglow, eyes glassy and fucked out; your fluids dribbling down towards your underwear still bunched above your knees, hair tangled with sweat and saliva and cum—his and yours.

You look wrecked—disheveled. You’re so fucking pretty it makes Din want to scream.

He picks up a stray rag from a crate and offers it to you, before silently sliding your panties back up to your hips in one dexterous swipe. He lingers there but for a moment, savoring the touch of you—grazing a digit into the crease of your hip. You’re rendered mute— your brain can hardly string a sentence together— but finally you manage, your voice weak when you find it again.

“Thank you,” you croak, wiping away the traces of him off your knuckles, and you smile coquettish, delirious. “That was… that was, uhm—I really enjoyed that.”

A quiet beat slogs by.

And then, everything shifts.

Din’s hand descends from your waist, holstering it to his side, and he moves away. He moves away from you.

You can feel it immediately—like a gust of chilled wind, the change in the air nips at you. Din’s armor is anything but warm—his presence, his aura, anything but inviting—but now, he seems farther from you than ever before, his visor tempered and steely.

You know him. You know this man. You’ve travelled with him, you’ve mended his ills, you’ve taken care of his son, you’ve spoken his name, you’ve laid prints on his skin and deeper still—

And here, before you, Din is white noise. Indiscernible. Unreadable.

Nervously, you twiddle with the frayed edge of the stained cloth, worrying your cheek. You swear, just for a second, that you see him inch towards you— you think you sense him, some part of him, breaching the chasm that’s formed between you. But it’s only a trick of the lowlight—a trick of your cruel heart, winged and errant beneath your ribs, misconstruing your thoughts to fancy.

Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t come to you like you want. He doesn’t touch you again, he doesn’t hold you like you need.

It feels like you’re withering—your legs too bare, your tunic too short, hair too mussed, eyes too bleary—everything feels wrong now, misplaced. “Din,” you start, you try—you try to keep attached to this tether, to this thin strand you’ve sewn between your bodies, but he shrinks back. He severs it. He is as you first met him. Rigid. Distant. A Mandalorian bounty hunter— the best in the parsec. He is as he was months ago, when you were strangers.

When you were nothing.

“I—” He silences himself, teeth clenching shut around the unspoken sentiment you so long to hear, and instead takes another step backwards. Farther away. Farther from you.

He stands straighter, impossibly taller, and you feel

small.

“Goodnight,” Din gives, his voice shrouded and cloaked by his modulator. He pivots on his heel, retreating into the depths of the Crest and leaves you there, the ghost of his hands on your neck, on your breasts, in your heat— still tingling from where they haunt you. Exhausted, you thud back into the bulkhead, unfocused and unseeing.

“Goodnight Din,” you murmur, but it falls upon deaf ears. He’s gone, and the empty hull swallows your words—burying them.

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#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem!reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x fem!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #king of cups #mandalorian smut

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Text

38. Set it up, break it up

For everyone who's been supportive of these| fluff |making out |harry set draco up with someone Only to realise he liked draco all along |

" when was your first time ?" Seamus smugly asked Draco as he drank his butter beer from across the room sprawled over the bean bag

" I will prefer not to answer the question. It is highly confidential and that information shall only be revealed to Someone I'm with. So dear Seamus you can enjoy asking this question to other, while I would refuse to answer " Draco sophisticatedly replied, tilting his head to put on more emphasis upon his words.

" Merlin, you could've just said I'm not answering that. No need to go all Shakespearian " Ron rolled his eyes at Draco.

Harry chuckled as he joined Draco over the couch, putting his legs over Draco's laps, not that either of them ever minded that physical touch " that's Draco for you. He'll never give a direct answer. I can bet, if he were in an English Muggle class, he'd top "

" I topped nonetheless " Draco rolled his eyes, his hands automatically falling into a pattern of softly stroke the bottom of Harry's leg, a habit he's grown attached to.

" really? From what I remember I got 7 owls while you got only 6. It's just as if I was infact better than you " Harry smirked

" whatever Harry. I was the headboy " Draco rolled his eyes at harry, yet again but then again he liked these small bickerings with him. Blaise eyed them from the corner of the room, enjoying it himself, not Daring to say anything.

" and I was given the opportunity, I just denied "

" as if "

" whatever helps you sleep at night darling" Harry teased as he pinched Draco's cheeks softly

" don't " Draco growled as he swatted Harry's hand away

" one angry kitten aren't you " Harry chuckled, picking up his can of butter beer and drinking it.

" don't call me that " Draco sneered, not in a furious way, just slightly threatening way.

" anywaysss " Seamus echoed, breaking off their not so private conversation " when was your first time harry ?"

" Ron, you might wanna cover your ears for this one " Harry chuckled. Ron gave him a look but refused to do so " it was after war, when I got back with Ginny, in the time we were going out for a short time "

" what about in 6th year ?" Dean asked snuggling closer to Seamus on the bean bag

" we couldn't really ever get to it. I mean for one neither of us were ready, and we were just kids. Although when we did it after we got back together, we realised almost instantly it wasn't something we enjoyed, not that part, just with opposite sex kind of thing. Well mostly her, no offense. Or it could've been we weren't just attracted to each other that way " Harry explained

" really ? I always thought you guys would work out you know " Dean said. Harry looked at Dean amused but didn't say anything.

" I never thought you guys would end up together really. Never seemed as if so " Seamus added

" interest me in why ?" Harry asked

" it just, I always knew you were sort of bi even before you started going with Ginny. It was Evident really sometimes. And with Ginny herself, she didn't seem like a person to be with a guy. I mean coming from I figured my sexuality really early on, I just sometimes knew it.. besides after the first time you guys broke up, it seemed almost impossible for it work later on " Seamus explained. Everyone including Draco thought about what he had said and nobody could even deny that it was a lie.

" what's your dating track anyway right now Harry ?" Blaise asked standing over the chair behind Ron.

" oh it's not that bad. I do go out on a few dates. I went on a date last week infact and believe me that guy was really good, dashing, almost ced- well Cedric diggory Kinda hot but right in the middle of the date, I feel something going up my leg. I almost choked on my Tuna fish and he goes, do you like it ? I was more shocked than anything else. It was weird if anything "

" so what next ?"

" I didn't call him back. I think somewhere along the date, he might've said he had feet fetish.. he would much rather make love to my feets than me and it was just plainly weird "

" people have all different sorts of fetishes " Ron frowned

" yeah, I respect them but feet fetishes just creeps me out " Harry almost shivered at the thought of it.

And everyone soon fell into talking about weirdest kinks and fetishes, something they all were rather amused to be in conversation about, except, Harry.

Draco stopped stroking Harry's leg for a moment to softly clutch on them to seek his attention.

" it's alright Harry.. you can't change anything.. besides I think he lived a good life" Draco softly said.

" I still can't forget though. It's almost as if I can still see it happening in front of my eyes " Harry Whispered back.

" I know. He was a brave guy though. You can't do anything anymore. I'm sure- he'd want you to get over it too " Draco whispered. Harry bit his lip softly before nodding. To provide comfort, Draco again started stroking Harry's legs.

" feels nice" Harry smiled at Draco, who simply smiled back.

" talking off that, what say about going on a date with someone ?" Harry asked Draco but had inevitably grabbed attention from a few others in the room.

Draco raised his eyebrows in strange surprise " really ?"

" I met some guy at the animal shop across the street. He seemed like someone you could date " Harry replied

" why me, why not you ?" Draco defensively asked

" well, he's not my type but he's yours and he did seem to notice you with me a couple of days ago, so I thought maybe you could talk to him and see if you'd like to go out with him " Harry suggested.

Draco frowned at harry before clearing his throat " I'll pay that animal shop a visit then "

" great " Harry grinned

" I'm gonna use the loo " Draco sighed and got up abruptly

" unbelievable " Blaise announced. Harry looked around the room to receive strange looks " what are you all staring at me for ?" Harry asked confused

But nobody responded except that most of them groaned, leaving Harry more confused. Draco returned a few minutes, chatted a bit and then left claiming he had to feed his cat.

As a few weeks goes on by, Harry discovered that draco did started going with the guy he had told him about and was infact in a happy place to be with him. And it was all fun and games until Harry was offended that Draco no longer gave him that much time anymore or the fact that he kept cancelling on him over and over or that he longer was interested in watching movies with harry but sure had fun plans with his so called boyfriend or the guy he's dating, he cared no less. By which he meant, he did cared. To say his friends were tired of Harry ranting on about Draco cancelling on him that one time Ron even put up muffalito charm on him. It was splendid how things were going, in a sarcastic way of course until Draco decided it was time for him to make everyone meet his boyfriend, and harry wanted to burn himself on flames.

" I frankly don't understand why the expensive dinner, I mean, couldn't he had just invited us to his place or his so called boyfriend's place " Harry vented air quoting boyfriend

" Harry you were the one who set him up in the first place, stop being mad at him and jealous not to mention " Hermione rolled her eyes eating the chips off the packet

" jealous, I'm not jealous " Harry defensively said

" sure " Ron rolled his eyes.

" look Harry, you're clearly jealous that he isn't spending as much as time with you and its bothering you, so just talk to him about it " Hermione suggested shrugging her shoulder

" look, I don't know what's cooking in both of your brains but I'm-not-jealous " harry slammed the cloth over the counter and went inside his bedroom

" I miss the time when he wasn't such a dramatic ass " Ron taunted

" I can hear you " Harry yelled from inside the room, hearing faint whispers from Ron and Hermione in the living room..

And the truth infact was that Harry was jealous, which he Only discovered over the dinner when Draco was practically almost all over him that harry wanted to tell him to just sit in his lap, didn't of course. And to make it worse, he was jealous of how good they actually looked, which resulted in harry losing his appetite and almost groaning every five minutes. Hermione had to kick him under the table to behave a couple of times.

Spending the night in his thoughts, Harry came across things he wished he had known earlier or things he never felt but whatever it was, he felt frustrated in himself to set Draco up and he had no idea what to do next, so he decided to take advice from the only man he knew the best was at.

" Harry ? What a pleasant surprise. Ron's not at home though " Blaise said as he opened the door for him

" I actually came here to talk to you " Harry sighed as he went in. Blaise frowned in surprise before walking behind Harry himself

" well what can I interest you in, a joke, a mimickery,-"

" an advice actually " Harry groaned as he slumped down on the couch.

" oh- Ron's better at that-"

" he isn't, he told me to talk to you " Harry replied. Blaise walked into the kitchen, opening the window to the living room to converse through the kitchen.

" did he ? What can I help you with then ?" Blaise asked as he poured water for Harry and walking in to give it to him.

" I think, that I might have feelings for Draco" Harry replied

" you are officially the last person to know that " Blaise chuckled as he walked back into the kitchen and fetched something to eat.

" what ? You guys knew that ?" Harry sat uptight

" of course " Blaise scrunched his eyebrows as an obvious face

" why didn't you guys tell me ?" Harry asked agitated with his friends

" because these are the things we're not supposed to tell you, you're the one supposed to tell us, you dimwit " Blaise rolled his eyes, throwing his hands in the air.

" well you could've at least warned me " Harry groaned

" how could you not have known !! When did you even figure It out anyways?" Blaise asked as he shut the cabinet for the last time, bringing a packet of cookies and chips with him and slumping down in front of Harry.

" I think I've known for a bit since he started going out, but last night i was pretty confirmed that I was jealous " Harry Told him

" well I'd like to say you are that ruined your chances but guessing you came for advice, you came here to know how to fix it and I'll tell you, I do not have even the slightest idea how to fix your shit soup "

" what ?" Harry emphasised

" Harry, you yourself set him up with someone almost exactly like you. If Draco even Liked you at some point, now he knows that you don't like him and he's probably moved on and supposedly happy in his newfound relationship "

" Blaise, If I wanted to listen to how I fucked it up I wouldn't had come to you. I need to know how can I fix this " harry sarcastically responded raising his eyebrows

" look the easiest way is to simply confess or move on. I can't help you harry even if I wanted to. Draco seems happy " Blaise told him emphatically.

Harry was disappointed but knew Blaise was right, there was possibly nothing he could've done to make it right, at least not something that would sabotage their relationship.

It took harry a couple more days to become normal with the fact that draco was dating and finally paving his way to move on, which was definitely hard. And harry could've assumed he was doing good until Draco invited him for a picnic, claiming they haven't gotten out individually in a while. Normally harry would've been very ecstatic about it but considering the phase he was going through it was hard but didn't deny his sweet offer.

" took you a bit long- and your boyfriend's here too " harry pressed his lips in a thin line when he saw them coming together.

"it was just us but his plans got cancelled last moment so he tagged alone.. i hope you don't mind " Draco plead guilty

Harry sighed before giving him a firm smile and nodding " it's going to be one hell of a day "

Halfway through the picnic, harry Would've assumed he would be the thrid wheel but it was infact quite opposite, his boyfriend, jake was infact the third wheel who basically had no idea about draco's life which surprised harry a little more than it should have.

" you- jake, you alright ?" Harry asked looking over draco's shoulder at his boyfriend who looked puzzled

" what? I'm fine, just thinking " he gave them a firm smile.. draco leaned a bit into jake as if to give him the feeling he was still here but jake rejected it, much to draco's surprise.

" what you thinking about ?" Harry asked furrowing his eyebrows.

" what exactly I'm doing here?-"

" shit- I'm sorry for making you feel as if I'm intruding-"

" no, it's not that. It's just so clear that you both are so meant to be together, yet here I am on a picnic with two people who are supposed to be together but are not because of me-"

" that's not true " draco interjected

" is it not ? " Jake asked more firmly than before, not forgetting to give a smile so as to not sound harsh.

Draco opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

" even if it is true for me, I don't think Draco feels that way . Besides you guys are dating, I don't want to be the reason for your break up" harry replied sympathetically

" you're not harry. I just- I can see it, maybe you two are blind but I'm not.. Enjoy yourselves " jake said as he abruptly stood up

" jake don't be like that " draco too stood up

Jake sighed taking draco's hands in his own " I'll stay if you admit you don't have any feelings for him, if you've never wanted to be with him, if you've felt anything closer to what you feel for him about Me. Admit it freely and I'll stay"

But draco couldn't say anything..

" thought so. I'd be fine by the way. I don't think I've seen two people belonging to each more than you two " and jake departed.

Draco stood there a few minutes watching him walk away, his shoulder slouched as if not believing that he'd just been dumped.

" draco-"

" you're a jerk " draco turned around

" what ?" Harry asked confused

" you're an insolent jerk " draco picked up from dry leaves from the ground and hitting harry with that.

" what the fuck did I do ?" Harry shielded himself as draco threw more and more leaves and grasses

" you fucking moron, you were Flirting with me " draco huffed stopping for a moment

" I wasn't flirting " harry whined. Draco gave him a look before picking up more leaves and throwing it at him

" okay, okay. I was but hey it's your fault to go along with it " harry stumbled back over the ground

" well it's not my fault if you're bloody good at it "

" is it my fault that you enjoyed and I'm not the only victim here, you were flirting too " harry looked up at Draco from the ground

" I wasn't flirting " draco narrowed his eyes. Harry hooked his leg around that of draco, making him trip over and fall over harry, who he instantly rolled over, pinning draco to ground.

" were you not ?" Harry breathed

" it doesn't matter-"

" you were flirting back" harry commanded

" okay, fine I was but you had no right- hmph" draco moaned softly as harry kissed him over the lips, kissing until the need for oxygen finally had made sense again.

" now tell me, how long have you wanted this?" Harry huffed.

Draco rolled his eyes, still pink from all the kissing " I haven't wanted this "

" okay " harry frowned as he leaned down, his lips lightly brushing over that of draco's " you sure ?" Harry asked not moving an inch closer or further

Draco's breath choked down, desperately wanting to lean forward to kiss him again but didn't to avoid giving harry the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

" you don't want me to kiss you again then? That's right yeah " harry whispered as he bit Draco's lower lip, earning a soft moan and his body involuntarily pressed against harry's

" seems otherwise " harry whispered.

" merlin " draco moaned. Smirking harry pulled away looking at Draco from a distance.

Sucking his cheeks, draco immediately pulled harry to him and kissed him again, this time in more desperation and rush.

" guess who's got the upper hand now " draco moaned as he freed his hands and put them in his hair.

" you" harry chuckled, Thoroughly enjoying kissing draco himself.

" jerk " draco chuckled

" you're the jerk " harry chuckled

" and you broke his heart " harry whispered against his lips smiling

" eh, he always knew it anyways " draco shrugged

" you really are a jerk then " harry smiled as he pulled away a bit, admiring draco.

" and you're the jerk who just broke my relationship and has basically manipulated me into kissing you " draco raised an eyebrow amusingly

" I don't regret it " harry regret

" me either " draco smiled and leaned in again.

Requests open

Day 37- you're my home, draco | Day 39- cuddle me in

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jasontoddssoulmate · 3 years

Text

I made an account for the sole purpose of this TUA fic concept

I’m a sucker for those “the characters read the books/watch the series” fics and I’ve read a little for TUA but I just had the idea:

The Hargreeves kids watching the two seasons but instead of just the seven of them, their birth mothers are brought in to watch as well

Maybe have the birth mothers family (if they have any) watch it with them

This happens before everything. Before Ben’s death, before Five’s disappearance, before they even have their names. The kids, One through Seven, are brought in. Maybe when they’re old enough to get the gist of what’s going on, but before they’re 13.

These 6 young women are brought in (because I adore that Luther and Five being twins is canon in the comics and I love the mention of it), and they’re confused because maybe The Umbrella Academy isn’t internationally well known so the kids are familiar but they can’t put the name to the face. Not until they introduce themselves, anyways, and suddenly they’re face to face with the baby that they gave away years ago.

Maybe a few of them regret it, maybe they tried to forget it, maybe they spend so much of their time thinking about it or maybe they’re overjoyed that their baby seems to be doing so well.

But their names.

There’s just so much about them that doesn’t feel,,, so right? Maybe that’s not the word for it but they’re too polite sometimes, their casually cruel treatment towards their sister isn’t normal and the way that they simultaneously act entitled and inferior towards each other isn’t suppose to be as normal as the kids make it out to be.

All in all, the women are confused and maybe a bit wary of their casual usage of powers among each other that’s normal to the siblings as much as it is abnormal to the birth mothers.

But communication is easy since each child learned their own mother language as well as the language of their siblings birth place and then some which only seems to remind the women that holy shit these kids are technically rich because of their father

The Hargreeves though? They’re confused and wary as hell. They may not have been introduced as The Inaugural Class of The Umbrella Academy yet (or maybe they have considering what your timeline is) but they’ve been training for most of their life and the situation is baffling. Here are these random people that they’ve never met before (at least to their knowledge) and they’ve never had to go outside to interact with others, not really at least.

So it makes sense that they go for polite but threatening. They maybe decide unanimously that the weaker willed ones like Four, Six and Seven are discreetly protected behind their older (in spirit) siblings, One, Two, Three and Five.

But they’re no real threat, its obvious in the way that the Hispanic woman uses such an endearing term like “mijo/a” and the way that the Russian woman has an ever present smile on her face and such a sweet disposition that reminds them of their littlest sibling and hey her eyes look just like Seven

So after a while, they’re more open to being relaxed. Not Five though, he’s always been just a little paranoid and being a 58-year-old in a 13-year-old body never had anything to do with it. So he’s got a harsh personality but the Danish woman doesn’t seem to be deterred. He kind of reminds her of her older twin brother who acts so harshly, but who she knows loves her so much.

So here are 7 siblings and 6 women and maybe family that was there for the women when they needed them the most. And maybe the person(s) behind this decide to be kept anonymous but they oh so want the children to get to know what being cared for is like. Maybe these women get to know the consequences of their actions or the children learn that the one who birthed them had their reasons. And it’s no excuse but it’s also not their fault. Both parties should be able to feel what they feel because it’s a complicated and maybe painful situation.

The children lose their respect for their father every episode. Even One, who they all know cherished the favoritism but it doesn’t get in the way of his horror when he finds out that he used to lock Four in the mausoleum, still does if the flashbacks are anything to go by because not Four, not the kindest and brightest of their siblings.

And when they learn of Seven’s powers and the reason why they are never present, they are understandably upset. They feel rage and disbelief that she had such a crucial part of herself ripped away at such a young age, because they know that their powers are like another limb. They’re born with it and they grow up with it and they were able to live their life with it so they feel rage. Rage that Seven had been so violated. Rage that the Seven they know isn’t really the Seven she was suppose to grow up to be. The Seven they knew as toddlers was sweet towards them but had a mean protective streak a mile wide that could never be controlled, not even by their father. The Seven they know now is so meek and desperate for attention. The Russian woman looks the most devastated as she thinks of the baby girl she got to hold for only a few hours before she was whisked away by a rich old man who is turning out to be the monster that one often hears about in television.

But the women? They watch as the children in front of them, maybe a little damaged and emotionally constipated but so obviously protective and caring for each other, grow to be the grow ups in the screen above them that grow up and grow apart after so much tragedy.

They watch as seven eventually becomes five.

How Luther is sent to isolation for years and he goes along with it in a bid to continue to please their father.

How Diego continues to rebel because he wasn’t able to growing up but also maybe because he wants to spite his father, no matter how much he protests that he could care less what his father thinks.

How Allison goes through a divorce and loses her parental rights to even see her daughter due to her dependence of her powers that leaves her devastated.

How Klaus is an addict who desperately wishes to get rid of the ghosts that have followed him all his life.

How Five disappears only a little while after their current timeline.

How Ben was brutally killed by his own powers, never getting to grow up and become his own person.

How Vanya can’t seem to do anything but go through the motions of her life, maybe having a little hope that she’ll be seen this time around, but is quickly squashed from Diego’s disparaging comments and the casual dismissal of her from her living siblings.

They watch all this, and feel sadness and rightful anger that their babies lead the life of ex-child superheroes. The life of abused children. The life of children who had only each other.

But was it really enough? Was it enough to know that they loved each other but had a hard time showing it and owning up to it due to fear of their father? Due to the constant comparisons and the way Sir Reginald had them turn on each other.

But they knew it was enough. They see it in how Diego waits for Klaus to drive him around even after he had expresses annoyance beforehand, in the joy on Allison’s face when she sees Klaus again after so long, in how Five makes sure to check up on Klaus after his kidnapping, on Luther’s face when he apologizes to Vanya after realizing his own misgivings, in Ben’s task of continuing to follow his brother around even when it pains him and in Klaus trying to comfort Luther after he finds the unopened correspondents. They see it in the support they show Vanya as she goes to check on Harlan.

It had to be enough to know that after all they went through, they still care for one another and at the end of the day, would protect one another just as they were as One through Seven.

So they watch what would be the Hargreeve’s kids misadventures, they watch as they grow together and grow apart just to grow together again, much stronger than before.

They express sadness and disbelief when they see where Five ends up, they get mad when Leonard throws Vanya’s pills away, they grieve when they learn that Ben is dead, they’re embarrassed but find it hilarious whenever Klaus cracks an inappropriate joke, they become protective when there’s allusion to Vanya having sex, and are rightfully ready to throw down with Leonard as they watch their littlest sibling get gaslit into believing her family hates her as he nitpicks all of her interactions with her family.

But just as they express their feelings over what happens to their family, they feel an immense amount of exasperation towards their older selves because so much could be fixed if they only talked to each other.

They watch and despair over the missed opportunity that is Leonard in the same house as them just as they find out what his role is in the apocalypse.

Four tears up as he watched Klaus and Dave’s reunion be undone after all the heartache.

Seven cringes when Vanya dismisses Five’s claims that he had been stuck in an apocalyptic wasteland and suggests that he’s gone crazy after his stint with time travel.

Three feels her heart drop to her stomach as the flashback shows what becomes the moment that she faces the hard truth that come with her use of her powers.

Five feels himself flush in embarrassment as he watched two version of himself in the future, one that looks not much older than he does currently, go through paradox psychosis.

Six feels frustration and a fierce grief that leaves him confused because he’s still alive he’s not dead, but I don’t have much longer.

One feels horror as he watches himself hurt his siblings one after the other with a sense of helplessness because this isn’t me, I wouldn’t do this but I already did, why would I hurt my siblings, I’m Number One I have to be the one who protects them-

The women, on the other hand, see themselves in their children.

The French woman sees how her daughter and granddaughter, it seems, both look like a carbon copy of herself and her own mother.

The Danish woman sees herself and her twin brother in Luther and Five. Sees her own personality reflected in Luther and her brothers personality in Five. Sees how her twins care just as much for each other and their siblings as herself and her brother do each other.

The Hispanic woman sees Diego’s fierce sense of justice that leaves others in the dust, and sees herself as she fought to keep her boy but ultimately lost him just as Diego loses Eudora. She thinks to herself like mother like son and bitterly laughs to herself but she’s so grateful that Diego had a mother who cared for him just as she cared for him because she often though about him and always made sure to commemorate his birthday.

The German woman can’t help but see herself in her boy. Can’t help but see her little brother in him. Can’t help but see her older brother in him. Because Klaus is so joyful but he hides his pain behind a mask like her younger brother, he’s so loving towards his siblings like her older brother, and so nonsensical like herself. So like herself, down to the curly hair and the addiction. Even if she was able to overcome it with support from her family, it pains her and leaves her in despair to see Klaus and can’t find fault in those he had around him because she sees how much they try and sees how hard the Hargreeves find expressing emotion is to others.

The Asian woman sees how sweet and shy her youngest is and thinks only of her oldest, who reminds her so much of him and can only despair in seeing that he didn’t live as long as her oldest had. She can only ask herself why her children don’t seem to be able to see themselves to adulthood but can only be grateful that even in death he has someone with him.

The Russian woman knows that her husband sees her in little number Seven, in Vanya, no matter how little that is. Maybe their personalities aren’t so similar because Seven is shy but she’s got the sweetest heart and so clearly loves her siblings. She has the same smile that she has and her little doe eyes remind her of herself when she was younger. She’s so small next to her siblings, just like herself.

So they see themselves in these kids, these grown ups. But so do the Hargreeves.

They see how Luther looks like what the Danish woman would look like as a man and how Five looks exactly like a younger version of the Danish man who introduced himself as the woman's older brother.

They see how Two has the same skin tone and facial structure as the Hispanic woman.

They see that Allison looks exactly like the French woman and see the same in Claire.

They see Four’s curly hair and slim build in the German woman.

They notice how Six shares the same dark hair and lower facial features.

They see Seven’s eyes and smile and short stature in the Russian woman.

So maybe they don’t know them well enough to see what the women see, but they grow to see it overtime because they spend so much time there, in this suspended room in time.

The women insist on getting to know them and vice versa. They insist that they have to talk about their feelings and assure them or gently scold them, depending on the reason, for what they feel because god do these children need to learn how to talk more about their emotions in a healthy way.

They get closer to the children and start to really see their childish side. They all fight over the silliest things, and become pouty when attention isn’t being drawn over to them. They crave physical affection, even Five who won’t admit that his maternal uncle patting him and One of the head made him feel all gooey inside. They make faces towards foods that they don’t like and still prefer junk food over real food.

So maybe it’s harder to let themselves act like children because they’re being conditioned to not “be childish” but even then they have their lapses in control. Four enters a state of panic after being reminded of his time in the mausoleum. One feels overwhelming guilt when he sees how Luther hurts Klaus and reminds himself that he’s the one that needs to protect them, as the leader and self proclaimed older sibling. Five feels himself cry for the first time in a long while when he sees how his siblings act towards him in the future and realize it hurts him deeply because he knows that he’s messed up their lives a lot but can’t they see that he only want to keep them alive, he doesn’t want to see them die again, he can’t-

But instead of being shamed into controlling their emotions, they are comforted and reassured. Four’s birth mother helps ground him and counts his breathing with him to keep him from falling further into his panic. One get’s reassured by his birth mother that his future self isn’t his current self. That everyone in the room has seen just how much he cares for his siblings and knows he would do anything for them. The twins uncle gives into his urge and hugs Five, whispering in a hushed tone that it’s okay to cry, to let it all out. He whispers that his older siblings are being idiots and if they knew just how much their actions were hurting you, they wouldn’t hesitate to apologize and hug you too. His words only make Five cry harder.

So they are cared for and allowed to be themselves fully and can be childish to their hearts content. And their birth families watch on in amazement and adoration.

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

I have so much more that I’ll probably add later, but basically I want them to be cared for, allowed to care for each other and learn to express themselves better. I want to see them get to have a good relationship with an adult and if possible their birth mothers.

Pls share links and stuff if you get inspired, I’m not much for writing fanfic but I really do want to see something like this. I’d read the shit out of it. I have so much more that I want to add but I’ll probably do something about it later.

#i just think it's neat #they deserve to be cared for #Luther and Five are twins #they may all be the same age but there's definitely an older sibling/little sibling vibe among them all #i love the idea of each of the kids and the women seeing family traits in each other #i headcanon Vanya as a feral protector of her siblings before Sir Hardass took away her powers #Vanya was the epitome of i've only had them for a day but if anything happened to them i'd kill everyone in this room then myself #except she was raised with them but my point still stands #they watch the series #i have mixed feelings about the Hargreeves birth mothers #protectiveHargreeves #protectivesiblings #lutherhargreeves #allisonhargreeves #diegohargreeves #klaushargreeves #tua five #five hargreeves #fivehargreeves #benhargreeves #vanyahargreeves #spaceboy #thekraken #therumor #theseance #the horror #the boy

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r1ntaros · 3 years

Text

Whipped

First Admission of KQ Academy Class '20-'21

Dear diary,

Which is more powerful, the ability to have authority or feelings that are long overdue?

-love, y/n. x

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x fem!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of fights, mentions of sexual stuffs and malicious remarks, vulgar languages

“Good morning, Y/n!”

“Mhm.”

“Hi Y/n, have a nice day!”

“Mhm.”

The whispers, boys trying to woo her and girls looking at her in admiration and jealousy makes her scowl in annoyance as she walks through the academy’s hall. She is not one to get her ego fed up with the attention people are giving her. In fact, she hates the attention she always gets.

Kim y/n is known to be one of the smartest kids in the academy. Lots of people in her class tried befriending her for that very reason, even trying to give her the most expensive designer bags on special occasions only to reject it as it’s already in her collection. She, just like her twin brother Kim Hongjoong, is an enigma to everyone. Only knowing some important needed details about their life background and establishing an authority and dominance that can make everyone shake and follow the two siblings immediately. But unlike her brother who likes the attention and always agreeing into everything just to have fun, she’s one to say a hard no especially if she doesn’t like anything or just doesn’t like you in general.

Thinking of that name makes her sneer in annoyance as she makes her way to the student council’s lounge room to focus on her morning obligations before the classes start in an hour.

Ignoring the whole world with her earphones plugged in her ear, she made a sharp turn to where her destination is located only to stop midway as she sees the commotion happening right at the very door of the student council lounge room.

Most students stand in front of it with another group of boys who look larger and buffer in size compared to them but the aura of their dominance is nothing compared to the other seven boys who look at them with cold glinting eyes mixed with mischief and amusement.

Standing in the middle of it was her own brother, a smirk plastered on his face showing no signs of fear even if he’s stature is smaller to the person he’s head on.

Ah, so this is why her annoying brother decided to go to school earlier than he usually does.

A lot of students stood around them in a semi-circle, making sure to not block the door as they’re all dying to know what’s happening in the middle of it. Some of them noticed her presence, letting y/n set herself in a suitable spot to watch.

These kinds of things usually amazes her as some of them are used as a blackmail material to her brother but encountering this in the morning especially in the middle of the school year is not.. pleasing at all.

The door opening is another attention grabber and there, from the now open door, in his glory, is where Park Seonghwa stands.

His silver hair is messy as his eyeglasses are perked up in his nose like he’s been here all morning and doing some work and just decided to take a peek of what’s actually happening.

A smirk adorned his face when he seemed to realize what’s happening and stood up straighter, “Good morning, what seems to be the problem here and you all decided to camp in front of the student council’s office?”

“Ah, Seonghwa. We were just waiting for you.” Hongjoong said and gave his said friend a fist bump when he stood beside him, “These men are trying to cause havoc, asking for a fistfight. What do you say?”

“Why not grant their wishes?” Seonghwa said, earning gasps from people and some silent squeals, claiming that the way he said it turns them on. “We can head to the gym for a bigger show since that’s what they want.” He stopped on his tracks only to look at the group in front of them up and down, “Attention seekers.”

The guy from the other side sneered in annoyance and spoke up, “You’re talking too much, Park. Stop being a pussy and just fight us here. Your men had caused enough trouble.”

Seonghwa laughs and made an eye contact with y/n, “Well, since you couldn’t hold in your excitement, I think—”

“I think the fuck not.” Everyone gasped and looked at where y/n is as she shoots daggers with her eyes, alternating between Seonghwa and her brother who seemed shocked as she steps forward.

“Hey baby si—”

“Don’t you ‘baby sis’ me you fucker. You’ve caused enough trouble for the half of the school year and I’m so fucking tired of trying to think of an excuse so you wouldn’t get in trouble at home.” She told Hongjoong and her brother gaped at her like a fish trying to breathe on land. She then looked at Seonghwa and pointed a finger at him, “And you, Mr. Park, you have a lot of school festival proposals to read and attend to. A meeting in 10 minutes with the admins. Don’t waste my effort of making you an excuse note just because you want to get involved in a stupid fucking fist fight.”

“Wow she’s hotter when she’s mad.”

“Damn, look at the veins on her neck.”

“I didn’t know she could get any hotter.”

She was about to snap at the other students when one glare from Hongjoong was enough to shut them up.

She suddenly felt a hand slithering its way to her forearm as she was forced to face the other group’s “leader” who looked at her full of malice and he leaned down.

“Hey there Kim, looking hotter everyday, I see. How about you compromise for your own brother’s doing? Let me have a taste of you in one of the unused rooms.”

Y/n was frozen.

These kinds of things and languages makes her scared shitless, not knowing to defend herself, especially when the guy has a death grip on her arm. She tried to squirm away but he just pulled her closer and Seonghwa had enough.

He gripped her other arm and he spoke with dominance, “Let her go.”

“Why would I? Come on, Park. Isn’t it unfair that you only have her by yourself?” The man taunts, as he looked at him as if trying to get something out from him.

Seonghwa looked down on her, only for their eyes to meet as she looked at her in a pleading but shocked manner. Moving a bit closer, he removed the other man’s grip from her and pulled her in to the lounge room, uttering his last words that left everyone in shock:

“I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

—

Once the door behind them has finally shut itself, Seonghwa sat in his rightful seat in the middle of the lounge room and continued doing what he left on earlier, ignoring the seething y/n who’s looking at him like she wants to eat him alive.

It’s not the first time she’s ever looked at him like that, and to be honest? Seonghwa likes this better than not having her attention.

He would rather have her looking at him with eyes full of hatred because it helps him know that she knows he’s existing in the same orbit as her.

Call him whipped, call him a hopeless romantic, but Seonghwa knows himself that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I fucking want to obliterate you, Park.” She spoke every syllable with venom, making Seonghwa smirk as he switched his focus from his laptop to her.

“The pleasure will be mine, darling.”

Y/n scowled in disapproval, “You perverted motherfucker.” She said in disgust making Seonghwa laugh.

He stood up from his seat and started walking towards her direction, making her slowly back away, “Me? Perverted? Sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re thinking but I would rather get obliterated for you anytime because it’ll be amusing to see you try and fail every single damn time.”

He continues on walking towards her, making her back away more. Seonghwa stopped a meter away and laughed, “Look at you, threatening me not so early yet cowering under my power.”

Y/n fixed her posture, still keeping the same glare she had earlier and Seonghwa can see that she’s trying to match his own flame, “I am not your underling.” She said, emphasizing each word, “I will never be one of those who will be under you. Not going to praise you or kiss your feet as you sit on your throne.”

“No? That’s a first.” Seonghwa let out an amused laugh and walked closer until he successfully trapped her on the wall and placed an arm on the side of her head while the other wraps around her waist, “Do you know what happens to people who tells me no, sweetpea?”

“No and I don’t fucking care about it.”

They both held eye contact with each other, Seonghwa being drowned deep in her deep brown eyes, a similar feature she shares with her twin. She looks absolutely ravishing and wonderful at the same time and Seonghwa knows that he can spend his lifetime staring at those eyes. However, the thought of having someone stare at it that is not him makes him so annoyed. He wants to have her all to himself only and as he said earlier, he doesn’t like sharing what’s rightfully his.

Not knowing that his thoughts has an effect on his body language, his hand that’s on her waist turned into a fist, effectively crumbling her uniform which became noticeable to her.

“Hey—”

“Go on a date with me, y/n.”

“What?!”

“A date. With me.”

She looked at him like he had gone crazy as she pushed her away from him but she also couldn’t help but notice the heat that was spreading like wildfire in her face, “Have you gone crazy? Fuck no, I won’t go on a date with you.”

Y/n opened the door to the lounge room, losing the motivation to finish her own paperworks. But before she could leave, she uttered her last words, “I’ll never date you, Park. Fucking hell, you annoy me so much to the point that I don’t want to associate myself with you. I hate you.”

And with that, she left him all alone there, broken and sad. The feeling of rejection settling heavily on his heart.

—

It’s been a week and Hongjoong is beyond confused.

He just wants to know the answer as to why Seonghwa, his best friend who’s been so utterly whipped with his sister ever since he first laid his eyes on her, has been flirting and messing around with random girls at their academy.

It’s not like Hongjoong is supportive of him and his twin sister possibly dating, not to mention that it makes him gag knowing that Seonghwa is terribly crushing over his girl version, but he can’t do anything about it.

What Seonghwa wants, he gets.

So back to his current dilemma where he’s just shopping with his sister for gifts to be distributed on their family reunion, he saw Seonghwa enter a random lingerie store with a girl.

Well yes, they’re of age to be kinky since eighteen is the age of exploration but he knows his best friend is not the type to fuck around (haha) with anyone, claiming that he only wants his sister which always make Hongjoong gag at the thought of it.

He didn’t know that he'd been staring at the shop Seonghwa and the girl had entered upon until his sister spoke up, “Hey Joong, do you think I should wear this to the reunion?”

Getting no answer from his fashionista brother, Y/n curiously looked at him as she tore her gaze away from the dress she’s holding, only to see him looking far away.

Frowning she called, “Joong.”

Still no response.

“Hongjoong..” Still nothing.

“Kim Hongjoong!”

It made the man owning that name jump up in shock and looked at his sister, “Y-yes?”

“What are you looking at?” She asked, also staring at where Hongjoong was looking on earlier only to spot a.. lingerie store? She deadpanned at her brother and was about to speak but a person walking out on the other shop caught her attention.

It’s Seonghwa.. with her best friend Aera.

She felt something hurt in her chest, already knowing what it is as she’s been keeping it within her for a long time. She looked away from the scene, “I see you’ve spotted your best friend and are much more interested in joining him?”

Hongjoong looked at his sister in shock, “Goodness bubs, no. I was just curious as to why Seonghwa has been messing around with girls in the academy. Just trying to get a good look with the girl and..” He lost trail of his thoughts when he glanced at his sister and saw a pained expression on her face, “Y/n, you okay?”

With the question, she looked back at her brother with curious eyes, “I am, why did you ask?”

“You look.. pained.” His brother answered and grabbed her by her forearm gently, “Did something happen?”

“Nothing.”

Her sassy twin brother rolled his eyes, “Don’t you ‘nothing’ me, Ms. Kim. I know you’ve been out of yourself lately not to mention that you’ve been neglecting your student council duties lately.” She looked shocked at what her brother had said and was about to speak but Hongjoong cut her to it, “Don’t ask me how I knew but Seonghwa is nonfunctional as well without his secretary. He’s been passing every single one of his work to Yunho.”

Hongjoong lets out a sigh, “And not to mention he missed an important meeting the day the chaos nearly broke out in front of the student council’s lounge room.”

Silence engulfed the twins, making Hongjoong’s gears on his brain work more as he tried to remember what happened that day that could possibly be the root of Seonghwa’s… unusual behavior.

He tried to think more and it’s like a thunderbolt has striked unto his brain, “Ah! Didn’t Seonghwa declare that you’re his that day too? We were just talking about how he wants to ask you out for a date that same morning. He even asked me for permission.”

“H-He what?”

“He wants to ask you on a date?” Hongjoong’s eyes widen, “Wait didn’t he..?”

“N-No, the other one.”

“He asked me for permission to date you? That one?”

Feeling her knees giving up, Y/n sat down on the chair nearby, “Fuck, I thought he was just messing with me.”

“Messing with wha–” Hongjoong spluttered and gave his sister an expression looking as if she had done something scandalous, “Hwa is not someone who likes messing around. Though he likes to assert dominance, he means every single thing that comes out from his mouth. I thought you, of all people besides me, should know this.”

Y/n just sighed, “That was before, Joong.”

“Okay I don’t fucking care anymore but what made you think that he’s messing around with you?”

“You know what he did before, right? I still like him so fucking much and he just played around with my feelings. Saying that maybe I got it wrong or that I’m just desperate to date someone because most of my girl friends are dating too.”

Hongjoong face palmed as he recalled what happened that day. He was aware of what happened that night, especially since it was his parents who warned him that his favorite sibling (don’t tell his older brother) came inside her room crying. He also remembered how he carefully knocked at her door only for her to open it and throw herself in her twin brother’s arms. Y/n cried herself to exhaustion but of course, she was able to tell Hongjoong the reason why she was a wreck that very day.

He was ready to punch Seonghwa the next day only to be confused as to why the other man doesn’t know the reason why his best friend, Y/n, was ignoring him.

And that’s when Hongjoong realized that they’re both dumb.

“Scary how feelings and misunderstanding combined together can cause two people to drift apart.” Hongjoong mindlessly said making his sister look at him, “What did you say?”

He frowned more and looked at y/n dead in the eye, “Talk to him on the day of the festival.”

“Fuck no–”

“Talk to him, I swear to God. Clear the bad air between the two of you.” Hongjoong lets out a deep sigh. He’s getting even more stressed and this isn’t even his own lovelife yet, “Y/n, bub, you always rant to me how Seonghwa had changed, how he became arrogant blah blah blah but I’ve been meaning to say that between the two of you, it’s you who changed the most.”

“The Seonghwa you’ve known.. is still your Seonghwa. He never changed, y/n. He’s still the same kind hearted guy who you cuddle with on our couch at home while binge watching random cat videos on youtube.”

“You.. y/n, where’s my sweet considerate little twin who always looks at the two sides of the coin? Gone. Too carried away with her false bitterness and got too hot headed.”

Y/n looked away from her brother. This is Kim Hongjoong speaking. If there’s anyone else who knows Seonghwa well, it’s him.

She’s been in pain and swallowed herself in a sea of bitterness for four fucking years that she refused to listen to Seonghwa’s side even if he tried for to do so.

But there’s two questions that linger in her mind, “Joong, why did he stop trying to reach out for me?”

“It’s because you never let him to. He knows that you’ve become closed off and shut him out for good. He did everything, even going to the extent of self appointing you as his secretary just so he can look after you.”

Oh..

Now she feels bad and feels like crying but no, she won’t let herself break until her final question gets answered. Looking at his brother one more time who’s now typing away in his phone, she lets out her final question, “Does he really like me like I like him, Joong?”

Her brother glanced at her and shook his head no and she deflated..

She lost her chance.

“He loves you already, y/n.”

—

The day of the festival came and Seonghwa is sweating a lot.

He came about an hour ago to check on things last minute and after that, he spent the remaining time he had to look around the grounds only to be disappointed as he didn’t see the person he was looking for.

Deciding that he cannot take it anymore, he fished out his phone from his pocket and texted the person he wants to talk to.

To: Aera ☆

Where are you? The festival starts in 30 mins.

Sent 6:30pm

He lets out another anxious sigh as he fixes his clothes, deciding that it’s the most interesting thing to do in order to distract himself.

Yunho had planned the festival very well according to Seonghwa’s wishes. At first, the vice president was reluctant to accept the duties but when he found out his reasons (and not to mention the fact that his friend looks so heartbroken and lost) he decided to take everything in his own accord, but of course, he still has the guidance of Seonghwa even if the said president is busy with.. other things.

His phone buzzed in his pocket once again and he read the message as he fished it out.

From: Aera ☆

Calm down, I’m on my way.

Sent 6:35pm

To: Aera ☆

Did you bring it?

Sent 6:35pm

From: Aera ☆

Yep!!

Sent 6:37pm

To: Aera ☆

Okay good, see you!

Sent: 6:38pm

He waited for the female and it didn’t take him that long when he started to see a female figure towards him with a cage on her hand. Seonghwa met her half way to get the cage from her and shot her a thankful smile, “Thank you. I hope this one will work.”

Aera shot him a smile, “No problem, dude. I swear it should work. Y/n’s been giving me daggers lately and my boyfriend is just trying to steer her away from me so this one will successfully work.”

Seonghwa let out a chuckle, “Do you think she thought we’re dating or something? You know, since she doesn’t know about the whole Seojun thing.”

The female pretended to gag, “God fucking hell, we may have spent our years in Australia together but god fucking damn it that’s the most disgusting thought ever.”

This time, Seonghwa really did laugh loud at his friend’s antics, “Yep, disgusting.”

The both of them laughed and decided to part ways right after. He was trying to look for one person, only to see his friends near the fountain. Seonghwa approached them and San was the first person to notice him.

“Hey, Hwa. What’s that?” He asked pertaining to the cage he was holding.

“Oh this?” Seonghwa replied and dropped it on the glass then opened its gates and pulled out a white british shorthair, “This.”

San couldn’t help but squeal, “It’s so cute! Is this yours?”

“Uhm, no. It’s for someone.”

The whole time the exchange between San and Seonghwa’s been happening, Hongjoong has been staring at his other friend for a while now. Seonghwa seemed currently relaxed but anxious, always failing to hide what he feels.

But the question is, what made him so anxious?

“Wait. So hyung, you’re courting someone?”

Seonghwa scratched the back of his head, using the hand that’s not holding the cat, “Only if she lets me court her though.”

San made a noise of confusion and before Seonghwa could answer, Hongjoong called him.

“Yes, Joong?”

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The two oldest strutted far away from their friends and Hongjoong caressed the cat’s head as it nuzzles in his hand. When they found a good location on the grounds, he spoke once again, “Hwa, did you find someone already?”

The man in question just smiled sadly, “You, out of all people should know the answer to that.”

Letting out a sigh, Hongjoong pats his friend at the back, “She’s at the garden.”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile, he loves how he doesn’t have to elaborate things yet Hongjoong will still get what he meant, “Thanks, Joong.”

“You’re welcome, dude.”

They were about to part ways when Hongjoong called him once again. He looked back at his friend with a questioning gaze as the other had a genuine smile plastered on his face, “Make sure to tell her everything and end this night with a kiss okay?”

Seonghwa felt himself blush as he let out a light hearted chuckle, “Aye aye, captain.”

—

“Hwa, I like you. I’m sorry.”

“God fucking damn it, that’s not it.”

“I miss the old us, I like you.”

“What the fuck, that sounds like we broke up and I want to make up with him.”

Letting out a frustrated groan, y/n couldn’t help but shout at the silence of the garden, “Fucking hell, Park Seonghwa, I want to fucking kiss you because I like you– no, I love you! Why is it so hard to say?”

meow..

She was startled a bit by the cat noise, making her look at the direction from where it came from only to flush a deep shade of red as she saw the figure of man who now has a freshly dyed black hair and an eyeglasses sitting atop of his nose bridge, holding a white cat on his right arm with an astonished look on his face.

“H-Hey.” Y/n awkwardly said as she started playing with the hem of her skirt.

“H-Hi, did I hear that right?”

Y/n blushed even more (if that’s even possible) and she couldn’t look at the man before her but she nodded her head in confirmation.

Seonghwa no longer spoke and the only thing she could hear were the footsteps nearing and the strong scent of manly perfume that she loved so much.

“Kim y/n, look at me.”

She didn’t. She was too afraid to see the new reaction from the man’s handsome face. Her head remained hung low for a while until Seonghwa lifted her face up with a finger on her chin.

Her breath hitched when he saw nothing but full love and admiration in his eyes, much like the look her Seonghwa used to look at her before whenever she does something adorably stupid.

“Hi there, love. Were you scared to look at me that I have to raise your head up?”

Y/n felt her eyes tearing up, her lips wobbling but she nodded nonetheless, “I missed you, Hwa.”

Seonghwa just softly smiled and planted a kiss on her forehead, “I missed you too, angel. I’m glad that you didn’t let your ice queen attributes take over you.”

She let out a wet chuckle and looked at the cat he was holding, “It’s so cute, when did you get a cat then decided to flex it around the school?”

“Ma’am, this cat is yours,” Seonghwa said as he gently placed the cat in her arms, “I named her Aeongi. I adopted this one a week ago since this is my last resort on how to woo you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow in suspicion, “A week ago? Weren’t you too busy snooping girls left and right during those times? I even saw you enter a fucking lingerie store with Aera at some point!”

Seonghwa let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Aera is my childhood friend and she asked me for company because she wants to buy lingerie for herself to surprise her boyfriend on their anniversary.”

“What?” It took y/n a while to process everything before she spoke again, “Aera has a boyfriend?”

Seonghwa nodded in confirmation and she asked once again, “But why did she ask for your company? She could've asked me?”

“Well it’s because we were planning to pick up Aeongi at the shelter that time. And you know her family owns every single existing animal shelter around our area, right?”

Y/n face palmed herself before letting herself fall in Seonghwa’s chest, careful not to squish the cat, “Damn it, I got mad and jealous at her for nothing”

Seonghwa pats her head, “It’s okay, lovebug, let it out.”

She snorted and pulled herself away from her (future) lover and smacked him in the chest, “What’s your answer to my accidental confession, though?

The male pointed at Aeongi and she scoffed, “What–”

“She’s our precious child. Since I still can’t physically put a baby in you since we still both want to be a licensed doctor, I’m giving you that cat as a sign that you’re stuck with me forever as long as Aeongi exists in our heart.” He fidgets with his back pockets and successfully retrieves a neat envelope, “And if you're looking for a full blast emotion, here you go. It’s a letter of confession with every single feeling poured out on it.”

Y/n was about to open the envelope but Seonghwa held her hand to stop, “Read it at home but for now let me kiss you.”

She couldn’t help but giggled and immediately pulled him by the collar of his sweater, successfully colliding their lips in a kiss until it turned a little heated, moving in an equal rhythm and Seonghwa decided to stop making her whine.

“Baby, I really want us to reach college before doing the even more heated stuff. But for now, let me ask you. Will you be my girlfr–”

“Yes.”

Seonghwa was dumbfounded but y/n was already leaning in for another kiss but he spoke, “Too excited?”

“Waited for too long.” She murmured and connected their lips once again, sharing the sweetness underneath the moonlight illuminating over them.

Y/n,

Hey, it’s me, Seonghwa. I wrote this one without any knowledge of what will happen tonight but whatever it is, I’m happy that it happened. But yeah, I just want to say that I really love you so much. Yes, love. I started to fall for you by the time I went back from Australia, having to enroll late to the academy because I just got home that time. You, aside from Hongjoong, are the one who approached me first, having to greet me like the sun is shining up on me.

Starting that time, we became closer especially when we found out that we live in neighboring homes. I always come over to your place, watching cartoons, playing switch, reading, doing homeworks together and even napping. Everything continued on and by that time, I was already fully aware of what I feel for you.

When we were in 9th grade, I wasn’t expecting for you to confess to me but I thought you were just joking because the girls around you started to date and maybe you want what they have so you decided to fool around me since I’m your friend so I told you that I don’t like you the same and maybe I could’ve just shut up during that time.

The next day, I was so excited to tell you about our upcoming trip to Switzerland for the winter only for you to avoid me and not talk to me. I was so confused and got even more confused when Hongjoong punched me in the face and told me that you’ve been crying. I only had one question on my mind, why were you crying? Who made you cry?

Turns out, it was me. Lol.

But yeah, right after that you changed. The very patient and sweet person I know became hot headed. You stopped looking at my direction so I decided to change too. You, the ever so gorgeous person I’ve known, are the talk of the town. A lot of people, specifically boys, have been wanting to date you.

At one point, I heard some of them talk maliciously about you and I couldn’t help but punch them in the face and that’s where I experienced my first detention. I sacrificed a lot for you. I nearly got kicked out of school for initiating fights and it’s all because I want to protect you without letting you know. I was given the chance to run for presidency and luckily, I won. With a few strings I pulled, I was able to appoint you as my secretary but I told the coordinator to say that they appointed you instead because of your good class performance.

So yeah, I started loving you from afar until that thing in front of the student council lounge broke out. I didn’t like how he held you, how he gripped your arm and I just wanted to punch him dead in the face right there but I didn’t want to freak you out so I decided to claim you as mine.

If that made you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry.

But yeah, I’m actually really not sorry too because it feels good to claim you as mine.

Hopefully, by the time you were reading this letter, you, Ms. Kim Y/n, are officially mine and will be working side by side with me on the student council lounge again. Strictly right beside me or on my lap.

No joke.

But if you’re not mine right after this, then please take care of Aeongi well (at least I’m certain you’ve kept her. You can’t say no to cats) and I hope you find your true happiness soon.

I love you so much, Kim Y/n.

With love,

Your Hwa

taglist: @masterninjacow @little-precious-baby @treasure-hwa @yunhobabygurl

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Egg the Cat

Chapter 2

Read on Ao3

Nancy flinched as an engine revved, a sleek blue muscle car pulling into the lot.

Steve let himself focus on it. It was better than dwelling on his fucking essay, his impending shitty night spent with Barb’s parents, like he didn’t feel horrible enough about that whole situation.

He watched the car pull into a space at the front of the lot.

California plates.

“Who’s that?” Steve could picture Nancy wrinkling her nose as she said it, too focused on Billy getting out of his car to turn and see it for real.

He narrowed his eyes at a young redhead getting out of the passenger side.

Billy hadn’t said anything about a sibling.

“That’s Billy. I met him last night.” He finally looked back at Nancy as Billy set off towards the school. “He found Egg downtown.”

Nancy’s eyebrows flew nearly to her hairline.

“Steve, I’m sorry, I forgot. Is she okay?”

“Yeah, Billy got her safe and sound. Still don’t know how she got out, though. Let alone made it all the way downtown.” He locked his car as they headed towards the high school, the warning bell sounding through the parking lot.

He reached for Nancy’s hand, his heart soaring when she let him take it.

Sometimes she said his hands were too clammy.

He walked her to her first class, kissing her softly by the door.

Billy glared at the tiny brunette sitting in front of him.

Steve hadn’t said anything about having a fucking girlfriend last night.

And really, Billy should’ve known. He’s a hot guy, living in a town of not a lot of hot guys. It makes sense some girl would snap him up.

It just felt like a slap in the face.

It’s not like Billy thought he actually had a chance with Steve, but now all of his daydreams, any of his dirty thoughts featuring one Steve Harrington were gonna be tainted, by this prissy fucking bitch.

Billy just spent all of his AP biology lecture boring holes into the back of her head.

He didn’t really give a fuck if people noticed, thought it was weird. He was too busy channeling all of his anger, all of his hatred onto this skinny little priss.

He hoped she could feel it, like maybe his anger gaze gave off palpable heat or something.

Based on how many times she stuck her hand up to answer every question posed by the teacher, no, she couldn’t feel the heat of Billy’s rage.

He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, only to find they shared all three of their morning classes.

Because fuck Billy.

And then he had to watch, had to stand there like a stupid gay fucking idiot as Steve lifted nancy off her feet, and made out with her against her locker.

He stomped past, hoping to go unnoticed by-

“Billy!”

Fuck.

He stopped dead in his tracks, taking a few deep breaths before turning, plastering his best I am so charming and I don’t hate your girlfriend for no reason smile on his face.

Steve was all sunshiney again today. Billy mentally kicked the little voice in his head saying that sunshine is for you.

“Hey, man! How’s your first day going?” Steve had his girl tucked under his arm. She looked like a frail little bird. Billy hoped Steve’s cat ate her for breakfast one day soon.

“Well, you got mad at me last night when I called this place a shithole, so I’m just going to heavily imply it.” Steve laughed, his head tipping back a little, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Billy tried to think about his dad, tied to think about the shelf bruises on his back.

And then Steve was pressing a sheet of paper into his hand, and their fingers fucking brushed and Billy tried, tried to think of a broken arm and cops at his house, and not holding fucking hands with Steve Harrington.

He studied the paper, just to look somewhere that wasn’t Steve’s eyes. A lighter shade of brown in the fluorescent lights, a shade bordering on green.

Come and get sheetfaced.

“Hawkins parties will probably be lame compared to what you’re familiar with, but I mean, it should be fun.” Billy just nodded, eyes trained on the little ghost. “We’ll be there. Nancy and I.” Nancy. That’s a stupid fucking name. “Y’know, if you aren’t too cool for us by then.”

Steve was smirking at him a little when Billy finally looked up.

“I’m already cooler than you, Harrington.” Fuck. It sounded way meaner than Billy had wanted, sounded actually rude, not like a little ribbing. Not like a little tongue-in-cheek reference to last night. Cold shit.

But then Steve tossed his head back, and he laughed, a full belly laugh, and he clapped Billy on the shoulder, and Billy has never felt gayer in his entire life.

“Harsh, man. Real harsh. Wait ‘til I tell Egg you said that, she’ll never want to see you again .” And Steve was still smiling at him, and he had maybe, alluded to Billy seeing his cat again, which meant seeing Steve outside of school, and Nancy was looking down the hall, like this conversation was below her pay grade, and Billy wanted.

“See, that’s why I’m cooler than you. I don’t go telling my cat all my lame drama.”

“That’s because you don’t have a cat,” Steve said playfully, his face falling a bit. “Wait, you don’t have a cat, do you?” Billy shrugged.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” And Steve smiled at him, and the bell rang, and Nancy rolled her eyes before pressing herself out from underneath Steve’s arm, and Steve’s big sweet eyes snapped onto her.

“I’ve got to get to Calculus.” Billy’s heart sank. They shared four classes so far.

Steve just leaned down to kiss her, one hand cradling the side of her face. Billy looked away.

“I love you.” He had to suppress a snort as Nancy said it back, her voice all pitchy and off.

But Steve reached out to clap Billy on the shoulder again.

“I better see you tonight!” And he was off down the hall, and Billy, once again, made a point not to look at his ass.

“You gotta be home by nine-thirty, okay, Shitbird?” Max rolled her eyes again.

“Billy, I know what time I need to be home by.”

“Just making sure, because you know if you don’t make curfew, I’m somehow gonna be blamed for it.” Billy had only gotten out of playing babysitter this evening when Max had nearly thrown a full tantrum at the idea of trick-or-treating with adult supervision while she’s trying to make friends.

She just looked at him sharply, her lips pursing a bit.

“I’ll be home.” Her voice had an edge to it. Billy didn’t really know how to take it.

“Be safe.” She didn’t acknowledge him, just got out of the car, a little Michael Myers heading into the swarm of children.

He pulled down the road, the party address only a few blocks from where Max was meeting her friends.

He slammed a beer the minute he entered the party, didn’t want to be sober for a second of this shitfest.

Steve had been right. This party didn’t hold a fuckin’ candle to what he frequented down in Cali.

He tried to make the best of it, beat the keg stand record, found some stupid jocks that were more than happy to parade around him all night.

He just had to get to that sweet spot, drunk enough he would actually get hard with a girl, but not too drunk he’d get whiskey dick. He didn’t need that to be his reputation in this shitty town.

He was being pulled through the crowd by some freckly fucker dressed as the guy from Karate Kid. Max had made him take her to that movie six times in the theaters. Billy had slept through it every time.

He was feeling pretty okay, the beer settling into his system, giving him a warm buzz as he studied the party. Maybe he could find some punk kids, score some weed or-

Steve Harrington.

The karate guy had shoved him in front of Steve, had said, guess who’s the new Keg King, Harrington?

Steve was glaring at the guy, drawn up to his full height, shoulders squared, all of that melting as he turned to Billy, smiling warmly at him.

Fucking sunshine.

“Nice job, Dude!” And Steve took Billy’s hand, and he pulled him into a one-armed fucking hug.

Billy was absolutely stunned. Maybe a little bit hard as he pat his hand against Steve’s back. Felt his muscles moving under his jacket.

But then Steve pulled back, his eyes trailing after his fucking girlfriend, and he was gone, followed her into the kitchen.

Billy wanted to tear out his fucking hair.

He went the opposite way as Steve, pushing through the sweaty crowd.

He really didn’t need to see Steve coddling his girl.

He shoved his way into the backyard, vaulting the low fence on the porch, making his way out of the yellowed light spilling out of the house.

He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it quickly.

Fucking idiot. You knew you couldn’t have any fucking boy in this goddamn town.

But Billy had come into this town really not expecting any boy to actually catch his eye.

Not like Steve has.

Steve with his stupid big eyes, and his stupid big hair, and his stupid cat named fucking Egg. Who names a cat Egg? That’s a dumb fucking name.

Billy lit his next cigarette with the dying remains of the last one.

He thought about calling it quits, heading home early.

But it wasn’t even ten yet, and really, he needed to fool around with a chick tonight. He needed to establish himself as a lady killer.

Sleep with one girl, and the rumors would build enough that he probably wouldn’t have to fuck any others, just not deny it when any girl claims they had a wild night of passion.

It was safer that way. Gave him some cushion.

Then, if any of the lies began to unravel, he’ll just fuck another one, and let the rumor mill do its trick.

Besides, he can find a brunette, make her take it from behind. If he’s lucky, the party’ll be loud enough he can tune out her moans, picture someone else, picture him -

The backdoor slammed against the wall as someone stomped outside.

Billy just took another deep drag, hoped he wouldn’t be noticed.

But, of course-

Steve didn’t even ask, just took the cigarette out of Billy’s mouth, taking a long fucking drag.

He rolled his shoulders, let his head fall back, blowing the smoke out towards the sky.

“Y’know, I fucking quit smoking because of her. Not like I did it a lot, but still .” Billy just stayed quiet. He really didn’t want to talk about Steve’s fucking girlfriend. “Because I actually cared .” Oh, now wait a minute.

“What happened?”

Steve shot him a dark look.

“You weren’t inside?”

Billy just gestured to the cigarette Steve was now sucking on once again. Billy kept his focus on Steve’s left earlobe. Didn’t care to get a semi just from looking at his lips.

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

“Does repeatedly being called bullshit and having her tell you she doesn’t love you count as a lovers’ quarrel?”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Steve tossed the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out. Billy didn’t know what to say.

What he wanted to say was you ever sucked dick? And then maybe take Steve’s mind off of everything by fucking his face, but that felt a little forward, felt a little gay.

“ Fuck .”

Oh, shit.

Steve was fucking, Steve was gonna cry. Standing outside with Billy, barely lit by the light filtering through the small frosted bathroom window.

“ Next week .” Steve’s voice cracked. “We would’ve been together one year next week. And she was pretending .” Steve slumped back against the wall, his face buried in both his hands. “I, I changed everything for her. I stopped seeing my friends because she didn’t like them, I stopped smoking because she said it was gross, I changed who I am as a fucking person. And you know, granted, I am a better person. But I’m different, because of her, and she just, she threw all of it away.”

He sniffed loudly, his shoulders stuttering.

Billy felt like his guts were on fucking fire.

“Fuck her. Fuck her. You are a good guy. And if she’s too much of a bitch to see that, she doesn’t deserve you.” Steve didn’t acknowledge him for a while. Billy just let it be, lit another cigarette.

“I think I’m gonna go home. I wanna see my cat.” Steve sounded like a little kid. Like a heartbroken little kid.

“You good to drive?” And Steve finally pulled his head out of his hands.

His big eyes were shining, his cheeks wet, glistening in the low light.

“I don’t drink anymore. Because she said I’m an asshole when I’m drunk.”

Billy weighed his words carefully.

“I’ve got a bottle of tequila in my car if you wanna stick it to her.” Steve gave him a watery smile.

“You wanna follow me to my place?”

#clearly i'm very busy at work #yikes writes #egg the cat #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove

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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x trans reader #bakugou x trans male reader #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you #trans reader

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