#but they somehow piss me off more despite being less impactful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

faulty-writes · 2 years

Note

You’re such an angeeeellll, can you write for the second idea you mentioned to me? The Yule ball one? I totally loved it and since I’m feeling really emotional (my eyes watered when I read about the reader because I found myself on her soooo muuuchhh) I just got giggly imagining myself with Shoto in that situation (I even have my own OC for bnha but I don’t know how to draw and did t find a way to so I don’t have an image of her) Have a nice day ☺️💜

[ I get to use my cute banner again, why is Shoto so cute? I don't understand, haha. So for those who may not have seen, this request is part of one I had suggested in response to the lovely todoroki-vivian's ask. To summarize, this story is about Shoto comforting the reader during a dance-related celebration of heroes. The reader happens to be a low-ranking hero and is a wallflower at the event until Shoto decides to ask them for a dance. I might have made this slightly longer than my other requests, but once I started writing I couldn't stop. ]

Soft music continued to fill the air and the shadows of dancing silhouettes just barely reached you. A sigh passed your lips as you continued to press your back against the wall, somewhat grateful you were hidden away from everyone else.

You were somewhat "forced" to attend the Hero Throwback Ball which was created to celebrate how far heroes have come over the centuries and honor the individuals who made powerful impacts or movements that paved the way for hero society.

Unfortunately, despite being a graduate of Yuuei. You were a piss poor hero who ranked low on the hero board. Many didn't even know your name or worse, made fun of you despite the fact you really tried doing some good in the world.

But villains always escaped your grasp somehow and recently you found yourself slipping up more than usual, this always seemed to happen during your confrontations with said villains. Of course, you could thank your anxiety for that.

Negative thoughts and doubts would begin to take over your mind as you attempted to fight off whatever villain. Eventually, you'd end up injuring yourself or you'd try to use your quirk, only for it to "backfire" and for the villain to escape.

It was no wonder you were referred to as the "villain helper" rather than an actual hero. Maybe it was just your paranoia, but you swore you only received the event invitation as a form of mockery. So maybe it was better that you were out of sight.

'It's not like anyone would ask the lowest ranking hero to dance...' you thought bitterly, crossing your arms. Yet you couldn't help but wonder if your old classmates would try looking for you. "Mm..." maybe that was hoping for too much.

"Todoroki-kun!" Izuku said cheerfully, "y-you're here too, that's great!" Shoto hummed before turning to face Izuku aka 'Deku' the number one hero. Katsuki was number two, and Shoto took his place as the number three hero in Japan.

He knew that his ranking somewhat disappointed his father and that people expected more from the former number one hero's son. But Shoto could care less about ranking, his main goal was to use his quirks to help others, not to capture all the fame.

"Midoriya..." he replied, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Todoroki!" came Uraraka's voice seconds later and Shoto immediately noticed she was dragging Tenya along with her. "Ah..." he replied, raising one hand to greet the two of them.

"Apologies, Ochako was rather eager to say hello before we departed to the dance floor," Tenya explained in his normal matter-of-fact tone. "Mmhm!" she confirmed with a nod, tightening her grip on his arm. "Heh..." Izuku gave a pity smile and scratched the side of his head.

"I'm n-not much of a dancer so Iida volunteered," he explained half-heartedly. "I'm afraid even if that were not the present circumstance, I could not refuse one's invitation to dance," Tenya added before pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

"Are you going to dance too Todoroki-kun?" Uraraka questioned with a smile. "After all," she said tilting her head, "it is a celebration and you can't just hide away like you usually do," she knew Shoto tended to be quiet and reserved in social situations.

"Mm," he replied, not exactly one to start arguments. "I'll be watching you!" she warned with a pointed finger before turning to Tenya. "Let's go!" she said cheerfully. "Ah, yes," he replied before looking back at Shoto.

"I do hope we can speak later," he said as Uraraka guided him to the dance floor. Izuku and Shoto watched as they disappeared, the dance floor itself looked rather crowded but Shoto found an odd comfort in the gentle melody that echoed through the air.

He took an extra moment to observe the way others were dancing, how close they were and how they embraced each other. Keeping their hands together or their arms wrapped around their dance partner. 'I wonder...' he thought before his attention shifted to Izuku.

"Who else is here?" he questioned bluntly, somewhat catching the green-haired man off guard. "Huh, oh well..." he paused, lightly tapping his chin as he thought. "Kacchan, Kirishima, Denki, Jirou, uh...m-most of our old class," he answered, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

Shoto narrowed his eyes. "What about Y/n?" he asked. "Uh..." Izuku looked dumbfounded and took a moment to recall if he had seen you or not. He knew the trouble you had found yourself in lately and frowned as he replied, "I...I don't know if they're here..." before glancing around.

"I...I know they h-haven't had the best ranking lately and...m-maybe they thought it best to...decline the i-invitation?" he suggested despite knowing that the answer wouldn't satisfy Shoto. "I'll find them, thank you...Midoriya," he said leaving a baffled Izuku behind as he walked away.

"I wonder why Todoroki-kun wants to find Y/n..." he muttered to himself. You slumped your shoulders, continuing to stare at the floor with a frown. 'I should have stayed home...' you thought, somewhat feeling sorry for yourself.

Your eyes began to water causing you to furiously wipe them with the back of your hand. The last thing you needed was more negative attention, yet you couldn't help but feel utterly useless. Before you could dive too far into this wave of self-pity, you heard someone speak your name.

It seemed so out of the blue and your head snapped up at attention. Your breath hitched when you saw two different colored eyes staring at you and there was only one person they could possibly belong to. "S-Shoto!?" you exclaimed, feeling your face immediately flush.

However, you quickly came back to your senses and frantically wiped your eyes, hoping he didn't notice that you had almost cried. "W-what are you doing here, or uh...h-how did you see me?" you questioned, moving your hands about nervously.

But this didn't seem to bother Shoto who merely replied with a "Hm?" and continued to keep his eyes locked on yours. He noticed that they looked moist, and though it was possible that there was something in the air, no one else seemed to have irritated eyes.

'I know they h-haven't had the best ranking lately' Izuku's words rang through his head, 'maybe they thought it best to...decline the i-invitation' well at least that part wasn't true, but he wasn't sure if that put him at ease because something was clearly bothering you.

The fact that you tried hiding in the shadows was enough of a red flag, but as Uraraka mentioned, he too had a tendency to isolate himself from others. "Uh..." you blinked, wondering why he hadn't said anything. Luckily the music filled the space of awkward silence.

"Dance?" he suddenly said, making your eyes go wide. "W-what?" you replied with your mouth hanging agape and a confessed expression on your features. "Dance?" he repeated in a robotic-like fashion, not knowing how to properly ask someone such a thing.

Panic washed over you causing your hands to press against your stomach which twisted into knots. Dance?! With Shoto!? Oh no, no, no! Just the thought of how you would mess up cemented your response.

"No!" you exclaimed before clasping your hands over your eyes, feeling your heart begin to race, and the urge to go and find another safe spot grew. "Hm..." Shoto leaned back, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"Is something wrong?" he questioned, he thought you would be happy to dance. Maybe it would make you feel better and forget your troubles, at least that's what he had learned since forming bonds and friendships with those at Yuuei.

"W-why..." you lowered your hands which were trembling furiously, "why do you want to dance with me!?" you squeaked out, feeling yourself growing short of breath due to the anxiety that now riddled your body.

Shoto noticed this but answered your question first. "I'm a wallflower too..." he replied, confusing you all the more. You violently shook your head, balling your shaky hands into fists. "No, no, no!" you replied once again.

"I-I'll only mess up again and...t-trip all over the place and then people will laugh and I m-might hurt you a-and..." you glanced to the side, continuing to breathe rapidly. Your mind was racing with a million more ways you could continue to deny Shoto.

Then a loud sound echoed next to your ear and you turned your head only to notice Shoto had firmly pressed his hand against the wall. "W-wha..." your breathing came to a halt as you turned back only to feel your heart accelerate at how close Shoto's face was to yours now.

You knew Shoto didn't have the best social skills, and neither did you, but didn't he know about personal space? "You won't hurt me," he assured before leaning back and moving the hand that was pressed against the wall to once again hold it out in front of you.

You latched onto your bottom lip noticing that the music almost seemed to be getting louder, like it was taunting you just as the dancing silhouettes did earlier. "Mm..." you looked at Shoto before leaning to the side.

The couples on the dance floor looked so happy, and you felt a sting of jealousy knowing they could so easily engage with others socially and that they had someone to be so physically close with. You frowned and slowly pressed yourself back against the wall.

'Can I really...be as confident as them...being who I am?' you thought before noticing that Shoto had moved his hand closer which caused you to look up at him once more. His facial expression held no judgment, not even the slightest hint of anger that you were taking far too long to accept his dance.

'It's not like anyone would ask the lowest ranking hero to dance...' your own words echoed in your head and your hand slowly began to move. 'But...' you laid your palm in his and watched as his fingers so gently closed over the top of your hand.

'Shoto did,' your stomach was still in knots and you tightened your grip when he guided the two of you onto the dance floor. You wiggled your body this way and that, not exactly thrilled about brushing against anyone else.

When the two of you reached the center, he turned to face you and tried to replicate what he saw earlier. He stepped close, pressing his chest against yours which didn't help your already nervous state. "Eep!" you squeaked out when he guided your free hand to his shoulder.

Your face grew hot when his hand came to press itself against the side of your hip, this was accompanied by a tremble that violently coursed through your body. "Are you cold?" he questioned, feeling the way you dug your fingers into his shoulder.

Your throat felt tight and you were almost certain you'd pass out at any moment. You somehow managed to shake your head in response, but he continued to look at you with a blank expression, the same one you had seen for years.

"This is what I saw others doing earlier," he noted and you couldn't help but question the reality of what was happening. Was this real? Were you really cradled so close to Shoto, the number three hero? "U-uh huh..." you managed to say, focusing your attention on his chest rather than his face.

"Do you like it?" he questioned making you yet again tremble which caused him to ask, "Are you sure you are not cold?" seconds later. You nodded before swallowing hard. "I...I uh...i-it's fine!" you somewhat hoped no one heard the panic in your voice over the music.

"Okay," Shoto replied as he began to sway gently back and forth, but your feet barely moved. In fact, your upper body did most of the work following along with his motions. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing those doubtful thoughts once again plague your mind.

How did the two of you look to others? Were you making Shoto look silly? After all, he could be dancing with someone who actually knew what they were doing. Someone that would make him look good. Not you, not a hero ranked so low you were considered a waste of space.

Once again your eyes began to water and though you didn't want to, you buried your face into his chest seeing as it was the only place you could hide away from the crowd. He came to a brief pause and looked down, slightly confused about what you were doing before he heard a soft sniffle.

He resumed swaying back and forth, being careful not to bump into the other couples that were around. "Why..." you squeaked out, almost feeling bad that the few tears that ran down your cheeks soaked into the front of Shoto's tux.

"Hm?" he tilted his head, continuing to look at the top of your head. "W-why did you ask me to dance with you?" the words left your mouth in a soft and slightly broken tone. "Because I wanted to," came his immediate response.

You frowned and slowly lifted your head to look at him, bringing your hand from his shoulder to his chest. "Why would you w-want to dance with...a l-low ranking hero? I-I'm not even a hero I'm just..." a sigh escaped you.

"Just a...screw up," it was Shoto's turn to frown. You thought so little of yourself because of your ranking? If that were true, then why did you accept the invitation? He couldn't seem to come up with the answer, but you needed to see how important you truly were.

"Hm?" Uraraka lifted her head from Tenya's shoulder. "Hey is that Shoto and Y/n?" she asked with a pointed finger which caused Tenya to turn his head briefly. "Ah, I believe so," he replied, turning back to look at her.

Uraraka smiled and began to wave her hand, trying to catch Shoto's attention seeing as you had buried your face into his chest for the second time. Shoto immediately noticed the movement from the corner of his eye and tore his attention away from you momentarily.

He returned Uraraka's smile before once again looking at you, furrowing his brow. He then looked back at his friends before gently guiding the two of you over to them. Your face remained buried in his chest the whole while.

He brushed against Tenya before leaning over to whisper something into his ear. "That's quite an extensive request," Tenya replied as Uraraka looked at him with a confused expression, but then her eyes settled on you and a frown came to her face.

It wasn't that hard to tell something was wrong, but she assumed whatever Shoto had whispered to Tenya was going to solve the dilemma you were going through. "Huh?" she looked back when Tenya came to a stop and released his hold on her.

"However, it would be an honor to help you," he said to Shoto. "Iida, what's going on?" she questioned. "Please allow me a moment, I believe what I am about to announce will answer your question," he replied before raising one hand.

"Attention!" he exclaimed, his voice easily being heard over the music and causing your head to snap back up like it had moments prior. "What's going on!?" you questioned, looking at Shoto however his attention was focused on Tenya and you followed his gaze to the man in question.

"Please clear the dance floor, Shoto would like to perform a dance with his fellow hero Y/n!" under normal circumstances everyone would have remained where they were, but considering most of them respected Shoto they followed through with what he wanted.

You watched everyone begin to evacuate the dance floor and trembled yet again. Your face grew hot knowing there were now multiple sets of eyes on you, why would Shoto do this? Part of you was angry and quick to assume he was only doing this for one reason.

So everyone had a front-row seat to watch you screw something else up. However, your assumptions were proved wrong when Shoto leaned down and whispered, "You deserve to be in the spotlight too," into your ear causing your jaw to drop.

He then reached down to grab your hand which was still fisted into the front of his tux. "Follow my lead," he instructed, and though you didn't quite understand what he meant before you could even blink he took off running.

"Ah!" you couldn't help but holler as your feet desperately tried to keep up with him. "Shoto!" you cried out when you suddenly found yourself being twirled multiple times all while continuing to move around the dance floor.

Your vision was spinning by the time he wrapped one arm around your waist and the other around your legs, lifting you just enough to see the crowd and their eyes. The very same ones that were causing you anxiety just moments before.

They looked fascinated, intrigued even at this strange dance Shoto was performing with you. Another cry came when you felt him let go causing you to panic for a few seconds before he once again caught you. His arm still remained around your waist and the one he had used to wrap around your legs was now holding them apart.

It was a tad awkward to be facing sideways, especially as he proceeded to spin around as if he were a figure skater. But despite this and the fact that you were getting a little nauseous, a nervous chuckle left your mouth just seconds before he let go of your legs.

You instantly turned your body, grasping onto his shoulder which slightly cushioned the impact your feet had once they reached the floor again. Then Shoto resumed running, pulling you along with him as the two of you rounded the perimeter of the dance floor.

You found yourself laughing as he guided you into another spin, the two of you interlocking your hands and fingers as the world around you grew blurry. Yet, you could still hear the slightly distorted cheering and music that filled the air.

For a brief moment, you seemed to forget your troubles. Your anxiety was completely pulled from your mind and your stomach seemed to settle though you noticed an odd feeling of warmth growing from deep within. Was this what everyday heroes felt like?

Since becoming a hero, no one really cheered for you. No one ever said 'thanks for saving me' or 'you're my hero' to you. But now, they were cheering and maybe it was partly due to Shoto. Still, the feeling was intoxicating and you wouldn't mind if you got more of it.

You continued to follow Shoto, leaping and twirling around every inch of the empty space laid before you. When you reached the center, the rest of the dance floor was cast in darkness and the only source of light was the circle that illuminated yourself and Shoto.

Of course, you didn't have much time to question who was responsible for working the lights. But you swore you saw a few sparks in the distance beyond the dance floor which illuminated a certain blond headed-boy who was known for his electricity quirk.

Your lips parted, and you briefly wondered how many of your past classmates were in on this. "Whoa!" you cried out when Shoto grasped your hips causing your hands to naturally grab onto his shoulders as you were once again lifted into the air.

You looked at him in shock, though you didn't miss the fact that he was wearing a smile and the way he looked at you was as if he were witnessing a star in the making. But you didn't have much time to appreciate his gaze as you cast in total darkness for a few seconds.

He lowered you back onto your feet and you hissed as the dance floor suddenly lit up again. The crowd's clapping, whistling, and cheering grew louder. "Whoo! Go Shoto and Y/n!" Uraraka screamed as she continued to jump and down.

"That was quite an unusual but impressive dance routine," Tenya commented as he grasped his chin, ignoring the ringing in his ears due to the continued noise around him. You briefly glanced over the fellow heroes who seemed to now be looking at you with amazement.

"Heh..." your heart was still racing and that tinge of nerves still coursed through your body. Yet, despite this, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Shoto. Embracing him in a hug, though his body stiffened at the contact.

You ignored this reaction and uttered a quiet, "Thank you," which made him look at you confused. But then a smile came to his face and his body seemed to relax once again. "You're welcome," he replied before returning the hug.

He'd have to remember to thank Tenya and whoever else happened to help him accomplish giving you the confidence you needed to believe in yourself because no matter how low or high the hero board claimed you to be, you would always be an incredible person to him.

#shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x you #todoroki x y/n #shoto x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #faulty writes: shoto todoroki #faulty writes: shoto todoroki: one shot

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spookiekewchie · 3 years

Text

Barrage

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: Steve Rogers x woc!reader

Summary: When it all becomes too much, Steve shows up to bring you back down.

FIREWORKS / SKY FLYER (drabble) /

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: mean!steve makes his triumphant return (he's a little softer in this though), impact play (spanking), dacryphilia (crying/emotional release), unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it), girl on top (reader rides steve), choking, mutliple o's for the reader, bullying towards reader (not from steve), mentions of discrimination against reader (not from steve), mean steve's filthy mouth, name calling

A/N: part of the FIREWORKS universe officially (hence the name), but I am considering this DAY FOUR OF KINKTOBER. please excuse any typos or errors. and the divider are by @firefly-graphics

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.

You were starting to crack.

The good girl act was slipping from your grasp more and more and it wasn’t for a lack of trying. It was the new commanding officer you had been assigned too while Steve was out of the country on a more world saving mission. This new CO did not like you, they’d made it clear from the first second they’d found out you were assigned to them. You could still remember the humiliating scene as they stormed into the commissary and put you on blast in front of everyone.

“You might be the Captain’s favorite, and God knows what you had to do for that, but don’t think I’ll take it easy on you.” They’d spat, before storming off. Your friends had held you back from doing anything that would jeopardize your career, but it was clear that they had questions they were avoiding asking about what was going on between you and the Captain. After all he didn’t take just anyone on missions where it was just him and one other person like he’d taken to doing with you. In fact it could be counted on one hand how many people he did. There was Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and now you. Obviously that was enough to have rumors flying, and those rumors were apparently the source of jealousy from your new CO.

It all reached a breaking point two weeks in when a mission went so far south that it might as well have been in Hell. Three agents were injured, another two were in critical condition, and somehow you were the one getting berated in front of everyone despite doing exactly as you had been ordered and staying on the jet.

You were pissed, standing pole straight, and your hands were balled so tightly into fists that your nails were digging into your palms hard enough to break the skin. It had been two fucking weeks of abuse from this asshole, and you were reaching the breaking point. The lump in your throat only grew, and you were so close to finally snapping that you didn’t even register the fact that Steve had just walked in, clearly fresh off his mission to find you and the few uninjured members of your team standing there while you were talked to as if you were less than scum.

Something about it pissed him off, sure he was capable of being a hardass, and he was certainly hard on you, but this? He’d never go this far, and judging from your body language you were close to making a choice that would have you out on your ass. Your CO hadn’t noticed him either, at least not until Steve was right there and his voice was cutting through the humiliating tirade about how useless of an agent you were.

“What the Hell is going on here?” He questioned, the intense blue of his gaze on you as blinked away the urge to give into your frustrations and just cry. You wouldn’t give your asshole CO the satisfaction.

“This agent jeopor—”

“I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to her. And I expect an answer.” He cut off your CO, and finally you met his gaze. You struggled to swallow down the lump in your throat as those blue eyes pierced through the barely there façade of toughness that you were holding onto. Thankfully Steve gave you a moment to calm down enough that your voice didn’t waver when you finally felt like you could trust it.

“Permission to speak freely, sir.” You questioned, and for a brief moment he studied you before giving a short nod.

“I was tasked with staying on the jet and making sure it stayed secured. I did as ordered despite this mission being one that required an agent with advanced technical knowledge being involved in the information retrieval.” You paused to cut a harsh look at your CO who currently looked as if they had swallowed a lemon. “One of the agents that was sent in triggered an alarm of some sort and the team ended up engaged in a firefight. When I inquired as to whether or not I was needed in the field I was told, and I quote, ‘if you step one foot off of that jet I will report you for insubordination and dereliction of duty.’” You could see the hard way that Steve set his jaw and you knew that he was unhappy hearing this. “So I did the next best thing. I brought a jet to a gunfight.” There was a soft cough behind you from one of your fellow agents trying to mask the huff of laughter that escaped them.

“I didn’t authorize you to do any such thing you—”

“No, you would rather have me sit on my ass and do nothing while agents are getting gunned down because you have some issue with the missions that Captain Rogers chooses to include me in. I did what I had to do to prevent the mission from being a complete failure, and to save the lives of our people. You wanna have me tossed in the brig for it, then go ahead. Do what you gotta do.” You challenged, and it was clear that this confrontation was about to go even more south if Steve didn’t step in immediately.

“Does anyone want to counter what this agent just said happened?” Steve spoke, his eyes scanning the group of agents as they all avoided the poor imitation of an intimidating glare from the CO. Each agent shook their head, a couple of them verbally confirming that what you were saying was what really happened and that when they had asked why you weren’t doing the data extraction they were told to worry about the mission not an individual agent. It gave you a brief sense of calm to hear them backing you up, not that you had lied. Still it was nice to see your Commanding officer looking so sour faced as the truth was confirmed.

“They’re lying, that’s not-that’s not what happened!” Your CO insisted after a moment, but it was clear that the damage had been done.

“I find it very hard to believe that your entire team, or what’s left of them, would all lie about something like this. And I wasn’t aware that who I chose to have with me on a mission was anyone’s concern but mine. Tell me, what other agents do you know that were personally recruited by Colonel Fury, have been trained in combat and espionage by Natasha Romanoff, and has advanced technical knowledge?” Steve waited a few second, letting your CO flounder for an answer before he cut in again. “That’s what I thought,” he huffed in irritation as she shook his head. “You’re all dismissed, I want full mission briefs on my desk by the end of the week regarding this mission. As for you,” Steve’s attention shifted back to your CO. “Consider yourself relieved of duty pending an investigation—”

You wished you had stayed to see the look on their face at hearing that, or even to hear the rest of what Steve had to say, but you were in desperate need to be anywhere else. So you rushed off to grab your things and leave for home.

The ride home was longer than you would have liked, but once you were there you felt the smallest bit of stress ease off of your shoulders. The hot shower that you take helped a little as well, but half an hour later when you padded barefoot out of your bedroom in nothing but a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt you still felt like there was something itching under your skin. Not even the glass of wine that you poured yourself helped to take the edge off, and your favorite film wasn’t even enough to drag you out of the dark mood you were in. The only thing you took a tiny bit of joy in was knowing you’d be alone for the night.

That was until someone knocked on your front door.

You tried to ignore it, not moving from your sofa while you sipped at your glass of wine. The knocking came again, this time more forcefully, and you heaved an aggravated sigh as you pushed off from the sofa. Stomping your way over you downed the contents of your glass in one large gulp and set the glass down on the kitchen island as you passed it.

“What!?” You snapped, swinging the door open to give whoever was on the other side a piece of your mind. Only the person who was on the other side wasn’t who you were expecting. Steve stood there, dressed in his casual clothes and staring down at you like he was daring you to say what was on your mind. “What the hell, Steve?” You bit out, glaring as he didn’t bother waiting for you to invite him in before he was walking into your apartment like he owned the place. It rubbed you the wrong way, any other day you might have been glad to see him, if only because you knew you’d end up under him at some point. Right now, however, you’re on edge, you’re in a bad mood, and you feel like you’re going to snap under all the pressure you’ve been feeling for the past two weeks of having to serve under the CO from hell. “You can’t just walk into my apartment in the middle of the night uninvited!” You shouted at him, palm slapping down against the island counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. The glass nearly tipped over beside your hand, but you ignored it when Steve slowly turned around to fix you with a warning glance.

“What do you want? I’m busy, and I’m honestly not in the mood in the company.” You huffed, going to grab the bottle of wine from the fridge to pour yourself another glass. The whole while, Steve simply watched you, that unreadable look in his eyes that only made you feel more on edge the more he stared. It wasn’t until you brushed past him to reclaim your spot on the sofa that he moved, or chose to actually speak.

You can feel the sofa dip slightly when he sits beside you. “Something’s bothering you.” It was a simple enough statement, but it made you scoff all the same before you were taking a greedy gulp of wine.

“Sure, Captain Obvious. Maybe it’s because some old guy decided to invite himself over tonight.” You shot back, and you could feel the way that Steve glared at you for the shot you’d taken at him. “Why do you care?”

“Careful, we both know I have no problem putting your bratty ass over my knee.” He warned, blowing right past your question and straight into a warning. As irritated as you were you could feel the way his words had you clenching around nothing. Was it bad that part of you wanted that? You weren’t sure, but you found yourself pushing further because you don’t know what it is that you need from him. You just know that he can give you whatever it is.

“Whatever, if you just came over here to take up space and talk shit you could have done that back at the compound.” You griped, taking another sip of wine. “Everyone else seems to do that just fine.” You added, the words muttered under your breath. You could feel the lump in your throat again and you swallowed it down like you did before. You’ve got every intention of taking another gulp from the glass of wine when it was suddenly plucked from your fingers and sat on your coffee table. “Wh—” You didn’t get the chance to question what Steve thought he was doing. One second you were sitting there staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind, and the next the world was tilting on its side and you were draped over his lap with your ass in the air.

He didn’t even give you a warning before you felt his large palm connecting with your panty clad ass. You gasped, head shooting up as you wiggled and tried to get off of his lap only for his forearm to weigh you down effortlessly. He brought another hard slap down on your ass against the opposite cheek, and you gritted your teeth as you felt the heat rushing to your core. “Steve, I swear to—fuck! You heavy handed bastard!” You choked out, when that third blow landed. You swore you heard a chuckle from over you, and if you could have you’d have thrown a look over your shoulder just to make sure.

“I warned you,” another slap, “you only have yourself to blame.” and another one to add to the collection. You could feel your flesh already warming under his hand with each stinging slap to your thick cheeks. Something about the way his hand smooths over the fabric of your panties made you still, breathing uneven and that damn lump in your throat again. “Now, are you gonna be my good girl and take your punishment?” He asked. You knew you were acting out, and you knew you liked the way that he broke you down like only he could. You chewed your bottom lip hesitating for a moment before nodding.

He didn’t give you a number, he didn’t make you count, but you kept track. By ten he had you squirming, and a your panties were ruined from the slick that coated your sex. By fifteen you could feel your bottom lip wobbling as the pain from the spanking had the emotions you’d been burying down threatening to burst forth. Stubbornly you fought it off, unsure why you wouldn’t just give in and let your walls down.

It was like he knew you were holding back because the last five hits of his hand against your flesh were just a little bit harder. Hard enough that by twenty five the damn had broken and you were crying. Not just crying, but sobbing and it honestly felt so good to let those negative emotions out that you didn’t even notice that Steve had stopped or that he had gathered you up in his arms. When you did though it hardly made you sober up, his soft cooing words just barely soothing the raw emotions that were finally spilling out of you.

“I hate them.” You muttered when you could finally speak words that made sense. “Two whole fucking weeks of putting up with their jealousy and discrimination.” You hadn’t even told anyone about the comments that had been made about your hair, and your clothes, or even the way you talked. Everything you did was wrong in their eyes, everything about you was offensive, and while you liked to pride yourself on having a thick skin it had wore on you all the times you bit your tongue and just walked away.

Even now you didn’t go into detail, thinking that Steve wouldn’t get it, but your fellow agents had already told him plenty that evening after you had walked off. So he knew why you were so wound up, and why you were lashing out, and why you needed him to push you past your stubborn need to bury your feelings. You scrubbed at your eyes with your knuckles, taking a breath and letting the large warm palm that was soothing over your sore and likely bruised ass calm you. Steve said nothing, letting you get it out and enjoying the feeling of your tears soaking through his shirt as you clung to him, perhaps more than he should. “Fuck, I can’t work under them anymore. I’d rather ride a desk than have to put up with that shit another day.” You ground out, huffing at the thought of resigning yourself to that fate because it was the lesser evil.

Steve moved you, positioning you to straddle his lap so he could make you look him in the eye. “Don’t worry about them, by this time tomorrow they won’t be allowed to step foot within five miles of the compound.”

“What?” You hadn’t been expecting that, and Steve could see the question in your eyes.

“I don’t like bullies, and I don’t put up with them.” He’d tell you that it was also because seeing someone abuse you like that had pissed him off, but that would come a little too close to admitting that this wasn’t as casual as he acted like it was. Steve wasn’t there yet.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t voice the disappointment that his reasons for stepping in seemed to be more about him than you. You must have been showing the disappointment on your face, because you swore that what Steve said next was meant to make you smile.

“I also reassigned you to a new team.” He paused, blue eyes searching yours for a moment. “You report directly to me now.”

You didn’t even register your movements when you leaned in to kiss him, an excited smile on your lips. Steve groaned into it, the hand that had carefully been resting against your ass gripping a little tighter and making you hiss in pain. You clenched around nothing, hips squirming against Steve’s lap at the strange sensation of pain and pleasure swirling into a delicious sensation. “Careful, pretty. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” Steve warned, pulling your shirt over your head before his lips were moving to the column of your throat to nip at your flesh. It drew a breathy moan out of you.

“I took my punishment, now I want you to make me feel good.” You whined, gasping when you felt his lips trailing down to your breasts to leave another nipping bite. “Please, Captain.” You mewled, knowing just how much he enjoyed hearing you call him that while sounding so needy. It didn’t take him long to work himself out of his jeans, and line himself up once your panties had been pulled to the side. You pressed yourself down, head thrown back at the feeling of the stretch and just how full he made you feel. “Fuck...never gonna get used to how big you are.” You huffed, hips wiggling as you worked yourself further down his shaft. Steve was impatient though, the feeling of your squeezing around him and your juices dripping down his length making him impale you with one strong thrust up into your tight core.

You cried out, loud enough that you were sure your neighbors could hear you. Tears sprang to your eyes again, though this time they were for a different reason than before. “Fuck..” You were trembling already, walls fluttering wildly and body alight. He’d already tipped you over the edge with a single thrust, and it had you reeling. Clearly you’d underestimated just how worked up your body was from the spanking he’d dealt out.

“Really? Already?” Steve’s voice was taunting, almost mocking and you could only groan in frustration at him. “Jesus, you just turn into a dumb little whore on my cock don’t you?” You gritted your teeth, feeling the tears streak down your cheeks. You tried lifting a hand to wipe away your tears only for Steve to catch your wrist in his strong grip. "Awww, look at you. Fucking crybaby, can't even take my cock with crying."

“You’re so fucking mean.” You mutter, head rolling forward as your hips rocked against him while your fingers fussed with the buttons on his shirt so you could remove the offending piece of clothing. He let you struggle with it until you got the last button undone before he pulled the shirt off of his body. You sighed, nails raking down his chest while you rode him. He might be taunting you about your tears now, but you both knew that they only made him fuck you harder.

“I’m mean?” He questioned, grabbing you suddenly by the throat only for you to moan and clench harder around him. “Pretty sure you like that about me, don’t you slut?” You clenched again, your traitorous little cunt betraying you before you could even form the words for yourself. Steve gave you a little shake before snapping his hips upwards to bounce you against him and draw a cry of cruel pleasure out of you. “Use your words, I already know this desperate pussy does.”

“Yes!” You gasped out, feeling yourself clenching around him again. You couldn’t help it, every mean word from his mouth was just stoking the flames of pleasure.

“Yes.” thrust. “What.” thrust. “Slut.” thrust. Fuck he was so deep that every thrust knocked the air out of you, and his hand around your throat threatened to cut off the rest.

“Yes, Captain!” It was a shrill cry, tears spilling freely down your cheeks as you came again and dragged your nails harshly down his chest. You didn’t get a break after that, something about seeing your tears and knowing that his cock was the reason you were crying had the man going feral just like you knew it would. He fucked into you harder, meeting each wild bounce of your hips until he had you losing your rhythm when he finally decided to take back control. Strong hands set the new pace, and all you could do was cling to him as he forced you to ride him at the pace and hardness that he wanted for as long as he wanted.

Three orgasms later and you were sobbing into the crook of his neck, your juices gushing against his lap as a broken sound left your lips. “F-fuck...please I—can’t cum anymore.”

Steve tsked, dropping a kiss to your bare shoulder before his teeth were sinking in and you were crying out. Embarrassingly enough you came again, it felt like you were going to lose your mind if he forced you to again. You knew he would when he laughed against your skin.

“Liar, now shut up and let me enjoy myself.”

#steve rogers x woc!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x woc #steve rogers x you #steve rogers reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #woc!reader #black!reader #kinktober 2021 #trilla writes

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

Because I'm sure this is going to be inevitable, how about some angst for the Chaos Trio (Mei, Jin and Yin)? With 61 and 52

Oh I have been looking forward to Chaos Trio angst since you sent me this, anon. Despite how they act in show... I think Jin and Yin are not exactly harmless. Especially if you mess with people they start to consider family.

The Cursed AU and the Chaos Trio in it come from @winterpower98!

Warning: blood and head injuries, enemy demons limbs (not detailed).

That is not a good hiding spot./I am a really bad actor.

Things had been going pretty well, all things considered. Jin and Yin had no problem getting Mei to join them in a little bit of... let's say "competitive insurance" as it were. They had to make sure they were secured in their own little tech related ventures, and after some financial setbacks they needed extra fallback. They’d planned the whole thing out with her help, more than 2 steps and everything! She was good at that.

The problem was that someone got a lucky hit.

They would have made it out with no problems, if they all hadn't decided going on Mei's motorcycle as a group (which, now that Yin thought about it, was probably incredibly dangerous and illegal with 3 of them on it... not that they cared about legality for themselves but somehow when it came to Mei that suddenly made them concerned). But nope. 1 bike. 3 people.

One lucky shot to the rear tire.

The three of them went flying, Mei landing very impressively on her feet whole Jin and Yin bounced on a bush and thanked anyone listening that demons were sturdier than humans. They didn't thank anyone for the pieces of bike that came flying at them all, and they were certain that they heard a piece make contact with something hard, maybe the nearby light pole, but couldn't be sure.

By the time they looked up they just knew they had a group of very angry demons that were pissed they stole and then wiped their code for... something, didn't matter to the twins what it was. They just wanted their competition out of the way. For solely selfish reasons. Nothing else. Not like they wanted it to see what it was and maybe figure out a counter attack so that certain overpowered people with monkey motifs would have an easier time in the future.

Not a chance.

As they fought off the attacking demons they insisted to themselves they didn't care that much.

"That is not a good hiding spot!" Jin yelled across the battlefield as Yin ducked behind crates. "Just chuck it for now and beat em with the blunt end of something else!"

"Just give me 2 seconds, I can fix it!" Yin yelled back, trying his best to reassemble a part of his sword hilt that had broken off.

"Come on, these guys ain't so tough!" Mei laughed out, easily dodging projectiles and backsliding and slicing and dicing as she went. No one was actually killed, but they were lucky because the only reason for that was the young woman wasn't exactly out for blood. They'd be feeling every single hit well into morning though! She was doing much better than the two of them. "Grab a pipe or something! Wish I had MK's magic building power though, I'd rather not be here all-YIN!"

The younger twin looked up from where he had been crouched, eyes widening as he saw the form of a much larger demon hulking over him and ready to batter him with a club.

Things had been going well. All things considered. Then someone got a second lucky hit.

Right as Mei dove in to push the younger silver twin out of the way.

For a second the fighting stopped. There was just the sound of wood hitting hard plastic and fiberglass as the club was sliced in half by her sword and the lopped off half continued it's trajectory and slammed into Mei's head to lead to her crumbling on top of Yin. Jin stood on too of a pile of crates, watching as a line of red seeped through a crack in her visor and stained the white of her suit.

And then his entire vision was red as he lunged at the demon and sliced, sending his arm flying in the opposite direction.

The demon screamed, holding the stump that was his arm from the elbow down, backing away as quickly as he could. "W-what the hell!?"

"Mei," Yin said softly, carefully clicking the emergency release button to make her helmet digitize away. Her eyes were closed, blood dripping from a slice running along her scalp... but as far as he could tell it was from part of the helmet being cracked and cutting her. She was most likely knocked out from the impact, breathing odd but steady in her unconscious state. "You... we're going to get you to the hospital."

His tone hardened as he carefully laid her on the ground, standing tall as he grabbed his broken weapon and a nearby piece of broken steel.

"You. Are going. To pay for that," Yin said coldly, stance no longer lose and half playful as it had been the whole battle. His stood tall, eyes wide and cold and the demons surrounding them felt a chill run down their spines.

Jin stood in front of him, blood from the other demon splattered across his face and chest in a stark contrast to his orange visage.

This... this wasn't the pair of Gold and Silver Demons they had heard about before. They were known for not taking almost anything seriously, making bad deals and pacts and weird blood oaths they wasted on bizarre favors. They were known for being good at tach but not much else, most demons in the area knew vaguely of their history with the Monkey King but even that ended in failure. Their plans were half baked, goofy, and lately they'd heard they'd gotten roped in with the Monkey King's successor and renewed flame of the Six-Eared Macaque.

The two standing before them did not look like the demons they'd heard about.

Mei hadn't wanted to seriously hurt anyone. The demons heard her yelling as much on the battlefield. But now Mei was hurt.

And the twins did.

It happened fast. They wanted to get it over with quickly. Mei had also not wanted to kill anyone at the very least the twins could do was keep up their promise from earlier in the day to avoid that. And they did.

That didn't mean there weren't lost limbs. Hands and arms. A leg or two. More than a couple eyes were lost. Someone lost an ear. Another a tail and horn.

Injuries they could recover from meant as warnings.

All it took was 3 minutes and the entire storage area they crashed in was a mix of grey and brown and red. Demons holding their injuries or running off.

The one who had attacked Yin and hurt Mei stood in awe and fear, looking down at the smaller twins who has decimated an entire group so fast.

"I-how!?" He yelled, backing up slowly. "This isn't possible, you're not this strong!"

"Who told you that?" Yin asked slowly, tilting his head and watching as the demon realized... he'd never heard they couldn't fight. "We don't fight like this because we don't want to. Never meant we can't."

"Why?"

"We are really bad actors," Jin said, wiping the blood off his weapon on an unconscious demon's shirt. "Why bother trying to hold back when we can just hide it by not trying?" He turned to the demon, glowering coldly as he watched his brother pick Mei up carefully. "Tell anyone who asks nothing. We'd like to keep it that way. Unless you want a round two where someone else doesn't hold us back."

And then they were gone.

"What in the actual hell happened?" Macaque asked in an even tone. Practiced even. A dangerous even.

"Well-" "You see boss-" "we kinda-" "-there was-"

Jin and Yin tried to think of a reasonable excuse, faltering as everything they thought of sounded worse and worse in their heads.

The two sat in Mei's hospital room, towels draped around their shoulders. They’d been smart enough to stash Mei's bike somewhere safe and wash off in the ocean before coming to the hospital, less covered in demon blood meant less scared humans when they rushed in with Mei in tow, and it was easy to make the nurses believe them.

Simple bike accident, friend hurt, help please.

With Macaque staring them down with his patented death glower, shadows growing and warping around the room in response to him, it was infinitely harder.

Of course Mei's emergency contact was MK. Of course MK could call Macaque before her parents (who were apparently on their way back from some kind of dragon family business trip when they learned). Of course Macaque would show up almost immediately and begin asking questions.

"It was my fault," Mei chimed in, voice slightly off from having awoken with a nasty concussion. "I thought it'd be fun to go on a joy ride late at night, I've done it before without issues! But, uh... I've never had two passengers before... and we hit something. Don't be mad at them?"

Macaque looked like he believed Mei as much as he believed Tang would lose interest in the Monkey King and switch his field of study to obscure methods of basket weaving. Which is to say: he didn’t. But he sighed, giving Mei a small smile as the shadows returned to normal.

"Ok," he said softly, tone much more gentle with the dragon descendant as he reached out to brush loose hair out of her face. "I won't be mad at them. I'll be very disappointed-" his tone hardened for a second at those words as he turned to the twins with a glower again. "-but I won't be mad. Do you need anything?"

"Maybe a candy bar from the vending machines outside?" Mei asked with a smile.

"Sure," Macaque laughed and shook his head, moving to the corner of the room. "I'll be right back."

He sunk into the shadows, a cool trick that the twins would always be impressed by, and they breathed a sigh of relief at knowing they were alone. For now.

"You didn't have to do that," Jin said, frowning at Mei in concern. Maybe it was just because he was now the eldest in the room, but some kind of protective feel pulled at him.

"I know," Mei said with a tired laugh, laying back into her pillow. "But you guys are like... my bros. I gotta stand up for my bros."

And that made both Jin and Yin pause. They looked at each other, eyes widening as they both came to a realization that was probably a very long time coming at that point.

"Yeah..." Yin said, a soft smile forming on his face. "We'd do the same for you... you know, if you didn't take that hit for me you probably would have kicked everyone's ass way better than us! We barely got out by the skin of our teeth!" A full truth and a blatant lie, but he hoped Mei wouldn't pick up on that second part.

"You know it, boi!" She didn't.

It was odd for him in particular. Yin had never really thought of himself as an older brother before.

First time for everything.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #cursed au #warning: blood and injury #jin and yin #dragon form mei #long xiaojiao #the chaos trio #prompt fill #six eared macaque #but only a little #dad macaque

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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Why do people get hung up on whether a gay person in media is a good or bad representation of them? I'm gay and I can tell you we aren't all the same? Being gay is our 1 common trait. So as long as they're gay then you've done it. Gay people can be kind, mean, racist, open, kinky, reserved, shy, outgoing, sexist, and literally anything else under the human experience.

Because I am perpetually hungry, let's tell a story about cookies.

You are a bright-eyed, optimistic, baker in the making. Your goal is to wow the world with your culinary skills, so of course you head to The Best Baking School for your degree. Over the course of your studies you learn how to perfect a thousand different cakes, an equal number of pies, and more versions of brownies than most would even assume exist. But cookies... oh, cookies are your passion! You can't wait to learn about the wealth of cookies you can make too. Then, sure enough, that part of your education finally arrives.

Funny thing is though, it's just chocolate chip.

Surely there's been some mistake? The cookie experience is vast and nuanced! Why in the world are your instructors — supposedly the best in the world — reducing cookies to a single class about baking chocolate chip and chocolate chip alone? Hell, why are cookies so sparse in the curriculum as a whole? You're never asked to bake them as a demonstration, or practice with them, and they're definitely not a given across everyone else's baking experience. Cakes, pies, and brownies... they're the default. Cookies are comparatively rare and when you do get to study them, everyone is super focused on the chocolate chip.

Then you graduate and head out into the world, only to find that pretty much everyone is as cookie-blind as your school. A few years back you never would have found cookies in the average grocery store and yeah, the fact that there's a cookie section now is great, but it's, uh... all chocolate chip! Many bakeries still don't carry cookies at all, but when they do it's - again - chocolate chip. Chocolate chip out in restaurants. Chocolate chip at the bake sale. Your friend invites you over and proudly presents a massive sweets tray that includes a single, sad looking, chocolate chip cookie. They beam at you in pride. Isn't it so great?

"Uh..." you say. "Well..."

Every once in a while someone will switch out milk chocolate for dark chocolate, or add nuts alongside chocolate chips. One bakery was even crazy enough to exclude chocolate chips entirely! Crazy according to the press, anyway. Because for years now you've been shaking your head, wondering what exactly is so progressive about realizing that sugar cookies exist. You've found other bakers interested in cookies and, by god, there are thousands. So many flavors! Gluten free and allergy conscious! Someone even made a sweets tray that was predominantly cookies, can you believe it? The problem is, almost none of them are mainstream. Your friend baking cookies out of their personal kitchen is doing fantastic work, but their baking doesn't have the impact that those grocery chains and established bakeries do. Their work isn't going to fix your school's curriculum. Too many people still think that cookies are exotic somehow. They're not the default. And when they do acknowledge their existence, it's chocolate chip over and over. Until one of them adds those nuts and suddenly the whole country is losing its mind about how inspired, creative, progressive their baking is. Meanwhile, you're ready to scream because that baker doesn't even know that something as "exotic" as a gingersnaps exist!

The worst part? Most of these cookies are... bad. Like they exist, yeah, but good god most don't taste good. And that's the whole point of a cookie?? What is the point of buying cookies if the cookies themselves are awful? You go to these bakeries, these restaurants, your friend's house, and you try the very limited cookies on offer, only to find that they've been sloppily baked. Doesn't anyone care that the baker burned their cookies to a crisp? That another straight up forgot to add sugar? This one dropped his on the floor and still tried to serve it to you! But the overall sense is that you should be grateful for getting any cookies at all. "That cookie is an offense to my taste buds," you say and people shake their head at you, disappointed. "I liked the taste of it," one says. "If you don't like it, go buy a different cookie!" Well... easier said than done. "It's not that bad," another says, shrugging in defeat. "I mean yeah, I don't really like it, and the baker stopped making them two years ago... but I'm just happy to have had any cookie at all, you know?" You do know, but that doesn't mean it's any less frustrating. You look at the hundreds of cakes available, these bakers spending decades perfecting their recipes, and wish cookies had even a fraction of that work put into them. You find people who agree with you, absolutely, but there's this this prevailing sense that a cookie is a cookie. Any cookie will do. Supposedly.

Except go long enough and you feel like you're ready to lose your mind. You take some poor person by the shoulders and go, "Doesn't this bother you? Doesn't this make you furious? There is more to the cookie world than these three flavors, 90% of which is chocolate chip! And we deserve well-made cookies, not the crap they've been upholding as the next culinary masterpiece!"

But this person just shakes their head. "Well of course there's more to cookies than three flavors. There's a huge variety of cookies! I know that."

"Yes, but the world isn't selling that variety."

"Of course they are! Just last week I had an oatmeal raisin. That's amazing!"

"Yeah and how many years did it take you to find that?"

"Well..."

"And how did that oatmeal raisin cookie taste?"

Your prisoner pulls a face. "Ugh, not good. Oatmeal raisin is definitely not for me. It's hard as a rock! I really don't understand why someone would want to eat that on a regular basis."

"But it's not supposed to be hard as a rock!" you cry, waving your arms. "That's the problem! Oatmeal raisin is so goddamn rare and then the one time we get it, it was badly baked. Of course people are turned off by it. Everyone who already loves oatmeal raisin is getting pissed because their favorite cookie is misrepresented, they're unlikely to see more of them now, and everyone is still serving the most tasteless chocolate chip cookies I've ever had, acting like this is the pinnacle of cookie baking! Do you even know that a macron exists?"

The person pats your hand consolingly. "Of course I do. My roommate's sister's boyfriend used to bake macrons, you know. I don't know why you're so hung up on this. Cookies can be whatever the baker wants them to be. Provided they're a flat-ish sweet cake, they're still a cookie!"

You hang your head, giving up. "Yes, they can be so many things, but they're not. Let me know if you ever find a bakery actually making the variety you keep acknowledging exists. Bonus points if those cookies are edible. My soul if they're delicious, as a cookie should be."

"You know," they say, still patting your hand. "There's a bakery making chocolate chip with dark chocolate next year. Everyone is talking about it. You should think about buying one before they take it off the menu!"

You contemplate just walking into the ocean.

Now, incredibly long metaphor concluded... switch out "cookies" for "queer rep"! The representation matters because no, just making them gay isn't enough right now. You're right that queer people can be anything under the sun, but right now media isn't providing us with that variety. It's not enough to acknowledge that such variety exists, it actually has to make it into our books and onto our screen. Taking just characters who identify as gay and putting aside the HUGE variety of other identities for a moment (of which we are mostly lacking in terms of rep), where are the gay asexuals? The gay people of color? The disabled gays? Trans gays? Did your gay character appear for just a handful of episodes? Were they killed off? Are they nothing more than a stereotype or comic relief? Is this the only gay character in your entire story? We need to ask questions like this because though gay people can be anything under the sun, our media landscape has only shown a miniscule portion of that variety.

Today, even in 2021, our representation of gay people is still pretty limited to:

You are only coded as gay and evil

You are only coded as gay and queerbaited

You are canonically gay, but a cis, ablebodied, white person

You are canonically gay, but were written terribly/killed off/punished by the narrative/generally making the real gay people watching you feel awful about their identity

You are canonically gay, but you're not human. Gotta other the queerness by making you an alien/robot/fantasy being

You are canonically gay and that's your entire existence. There is one (1) narrative of how you knew by the time you were four, never questioned your identity after that, suffered through a family that rejected you, and now all your major arcs revolve around being gay. You are gay and that is it.

Despite being a list of six, that's still incredibly limiting. Are there exceptions to such a list? Always, but that doesn't mean the list isn't still dominating. We can look at any individual gay character and say, "Of course they can be evil/white/killed off/a joke/etc. because gay people can be anything at all," but when we look at the trends, when we look at ALL the media together, we see that gay people aren't actually depicted as being anything... they're depicted as being these handful of things, severely limiting how gayness is represented. Bad rep. If you hit up the bakery and question why there's only versions of chocolate chip available yeah, the baker can go, "But cookies can be any flavor! Including chocolate chip!" They are not, technically, wrong. The problem is not that chocolate chip exists, but that chocolate chip dominates and other flavors are rare, ignored entirely, or baked so badly it's actively damaging to that flavor as a whole. Yeah, your gay character can be mean. Or kinky. Or murdered by the story. But when so many gay characters are mean and kinky and murdered by their stories — when you're not getting other versions to balance that out and gay characters are still rare enough that it's just 1-2 characters trying to carry representation for an entire franchise — you start realizing that the claim of "Gay people can be anything else under the human experience" is an easy way to shut down the conversation of whether that variety actually exists in our storytelling yet.

It's not enough for the baker to acknowledge that yeah, of course there are hundreds of cookie flavors and of course cookies taste great! They've actually got to learn how to bake them properly and fill up their store with them.

#queer #mymetas

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violetsoju · 3 years

Text

let’s go on a ride (where to)彡★

suna rintaro · fluff? · 3.1k

a/n: here’s a cookie for you if you can guess correctly from which song i got inspired by 🍪 (hint: it’s from a female soloist!) do let me know if you enjoyed it! ❤️

The first time you got on his bike was when you were late for your finals. Being the ironically procrastinator and overachiever you are, you dunked 3 cups of coffee the previous night in attempt to stay up drilling pages and pages of chemical processes and reactions, along with the insane number of structures and behaviours of molecules that seemed to stretch on forever into your poor cramped brain. So when you woke up to your clock staring at you with its long hand 20 minutes away from the scheduled time of your doom, you knew you were indeed, doomed. Your shouts and failing hands to the bus driver fell on deaf ears, leaving you gasping for air, hands on your knees as you reached the now empty bus stop.

You were about to make a run for it when a motorbike pulled up beside you, a male voice catching your attention. “Hey.”

You turned to see fox-like eyes staring back at you, one which had you intrigued since the first encounter. Even though his other features were hidden beneath his helmet, the boy clad in black on the bike was undoubtedly, your next-door neighbour.

“Get on my bike, let’s go.” he said, throwing a helmet in your direction.

Despite living right next door, the both of you never had a conversation with each other. You don’t really see each other too, in your defence. Normal greetings would just be a small nod of acknowledgement, sometimes with a small ‘hi’ if you were feeling sociable enough.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

“Where to?” he asked, as you climbed onto the back seat.

“Hyogo University, please.” You grabbed on the rail bar behind, praying that you won’t somehow fall off.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you missed the bus, because weaving through unusual heavy traffic on two wheels was definitely more efficient than being stuck on four wheels. You yelped as you almost lost your balance from the zigzag drive, instinctively grabbing hold of his waist as you both zoomed past the congested roads.

Never in your life had you been so happy and relieved at the sight of your university. Jumping off the bike, you were about to sprint to your faculty when you stopped midway at your tracks at his call.

“Hey! My helmet!”

Turning back meant risking having the examination doors being slammed in your face. “I’ll return it to you later!” you shouted, waving the back of your hand towards him as you dashed to your examination venue.

Later that night, the boy found the sides of his lips tugging upwards slightly, huffing a breath from his nose in amusement at the sight of his helmet hanging on doorknob of his apartment. It was filled with packets of choco pie and a small yellow note in it.

「 Thank you so much for today! I got to my examination venue right on time thanks to you. Please let me know when you’re free. I’d like to treat you to a meal as a gesture of appreciation, these treats obviously aren’t enough.

-Your next-door neighbour 」

He opened a packet of choco pie and folded the small piece of paper neatly into the pocket of his jeans, making his way into his apartment.

Your eyebrows arched in surprise when you locked your front door the next morning. There was a small green note stuck on your door, along with a box of chocolate koala march biscuits secured tightly with tape.

「 It’s not a big deal. Now we’re even, so save that for something else. 」

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second time you got on his bike was on the way home from your job interview. You knew your heels were to go, and you should have gotten a new pair soon. But being the last-minute shit you were, you prayed with all your heart for it to survive on you till the end of the day.

Well, to be fair, it did cooperate with you for most of the day, besides than the awful blisters on the back of your heel and toes. It only gave up on you after the interview that went wrong (allocated interview slot being postponed and postponed, the central air-conditioning blasting like the North Pole, and what was it with companies and their ridiculous prejudice towards young women and maternity leaves), when your right heel got stuck in a sewage drain cover, snapping into half when you used too much force to get it out.

Then it rained. And of course, you left your umbrella at home as there were no indications of rain when you checked the weather forecast. Maybe the rain felt like giving the sun, along with the weather bureau, a surprise that day.

And maybe it felt like it had its fair share of fun after seeing your miserable state, drenched in its merry little splatter and your own infuriation, as it bid the sun goodbye and went back home once you got off the bus to your neighbourhood.

So here you were, walking barefoot on the scorching yet damp concrete pavement back home, adding more damage to your open wounds. Well, what other choice did you have? It’s not like you would break the other heel into half to balance it out, right?

The stares and hushed whispers around you couldn’t much compare to what was going through your mind now. Heck, you couldn’t even care less of how you looked. Smudged makeup and faint colour of your innerwear peeping beneath your now see-through white blouse were the least of your worries now. All you wanted was to get home, fill the tub with warm water, turn on some music, and let all the frustration built up in you sink away through the evening.

Walking around the last block of shops, you kept your eyes on the pavement, not noticing a familiar figure leaning against the wall a few shops ahead.

“Hey.”

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts, you didn’t realise a human wall up ahead.

“Hey!”

You winced at the sudden impact from the body slam, snapping up to find a boy around your age towering over you, alluring fox eyes meeting yours. “Sorry,” you muttered, stepping aside to continue on your way.

A warm hand grabbed hold of your arm, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden touch. He had his head tilted slightly to his left, his usual blank face staring back at you. But the hint of concern that subtly flickered in his eyes as he silently inspected you from head to toe made you stop in your tracks.

Maybe it was the series of incidents that happened throughout the day that had your mind spiraling in turbulent directions, or maybe it was the delicate warmth in his eyes that seemed so inviting, it wasn’t a bad idea to linger in it for a while. Whatever the reasons were, he was granted the rare permission to take a small peek through the faint cracks of your hardened shell, into the dark fiery void that held you hostage.

You kept your eyes glued on the ground as he kept his gaze on you, curling your bruised toes together against the hard concrete, contemplating if you made the right decision.

Once he was done with his inspection, he moved towards his bike parked by the side of the pavement, grip still on your arm, and dug out for an extra helmet underneath the seat of his bike. He placed the helmet over your head, featherlike fingers brushing against your skin as he secured the straps around your chin gently.

“Get on, let’s get home.” he said, tapping the top of the helmet as if he was patting a little girl’s head.

The journey home was silent, in a comfortable way, and you were grateful that he kept his curiosity to himself.

He dropped you off at the lobby entrance of your apartment, nodding in acknowledgement as you returned the helmet while mumbling an audible thanks. You should’ve waited for him to take the elevator back up to your floor together, but you were just so bloody done for the day. At least you pressed the ground floor button as you exited the elevator.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The third time you got on his bike was after dinner one night. You were at the nearby convenience store in your pjs, a bowl of hot oden in hand, staring out at the night through the glass window. Late night convenience store runs were the best, because most people would be snuggled up in their homes, leaving the world to those like you to enjoy in peace in quiet.

You were on your third fish cake skewer when an unexpected presence made its way next to you. Gleaming hazel eyes locked with yours, and you found yourself unconsciously lost in it again.

He placed a plastic bag filled with an assortment of jelly fruit sticks on the table, savouring a purple coloured one in hand. You chuckled at this new side of him. This wasn’t quite something you pictured him to be.

He turned to you questionably. “Is there a problem?”

You shook your head. “Not at all, I’m just surprised with this new information.” You offered a fish cake skewer to him.

He gave you a green coloured jelly fruit stick in return. “There’s no age limit for these, are there?”

“Nope, you’re more than welcome to enjoy them,” You peered at the plastic bag. “Can I have the red one instead?”

“Picky.” he jokingly huffed.

The both of you enjoyed the rest of the night by the windowsill, making comfortable small talk here and there.

It was past midnight when you both made your way out of the convenience store. “Do you usually walk back alone at this time?” he asked, rummaging his pocket for his bike keys.

“Yeah, but not to worry, I can protect myself quite well. Ain’t no damsel in distress.” You jiggled your self-defense kit attached to your house keys at him.

He hummed in agreement, handing you a helmet. “My younger sister has a set of that too. That pepper spray is no joke.”

“What did you do to piss her off?” You fastened on the helmet strap nimbly, climbing onto the now familiar backseat.

“I was her guinea pig to test if it worked. And damn it worked well. 5-star rating.” The bike engine roared, muffling your laughs and off the both of you went in the night.

You furrowed your brows when he drove past by the turn to your apartment. “Hey, you missed the turn!”

“Buckle up, we’re going on an adventure.”

Apparently, his so-called adventure was to the neighbourhood hilltop which you had never dragged your lazy ass up to hike before. There wasn’t much to see in the dark surroundings, maybe it would be better in the day.

“For a moment I thought you were gonna abduct me or something.”

“By a guy that eats jelly fruit sticks at this age? Plus, you’re not even worth a bag of jelly fruit sticks.”

He fake coughed as you shoved the helmet in his chest playfully in retaliation.

The hilltop wasn’t that high, but high enough to overlook the charming neighbourhood below. Looking at your neighbourhood from a different perspective made you appreciate it more. The quaint coffeeshops, the now quiet primary school, the lush recreational park, they all looked so small from the top. So this is what birds see from the top, you thought.

Placing your hands on the wooden fencing, you closed your eyes for a moment to enjoy the cool breeze caressing your face, taking in a long, deep breath. Even the air up here was clearer.

You turned behind to find him lying on the grass with one knee up, arms folded behind his head, eyes on the black canvas above. You took your place comfortably next to him, mimicking his actions. A soft gasp escaped your lips, taken aback by the view displayed before you.

Maybe it was the cold reality and gradual maturity along with age that had your mind conditioned to thinking only the glowing lights of the city lit up the dark night skies. Long had you forgotten the existence of the scattered diamonds shining up above; one that lit up the skies and your eyes as a child, one you dreamt of picking from the sky to replace the plastic fluorescent ones on the celling of your nostalgic childhood room.

It was simple pleasures like this that kept boundless curiosity and imagination run wild, that made each day enjoyable and fun, that made one realise how beautiful life could be.

And to remind one how important it is to live in the present.

“Do you know how to identify constellations?”

“I only know the name of my zodiac sign, if that counts.”

“No.”

You chuckled at the small pout that formed on his lips.

“Don’t you think it’s amazing how people in the olden days could navigate their way with just a few blinking dots in the night sky? I don’t even know how to use a compass.”

“That’s why we have Google maps now.”

“Can you be a lil bit more enthusiastic?”

“You can’t deny that what I said is true, can you?”

It was his turn to chuckle at your exasperated sigh.

“Have you seen a meteor shower before?”

“Yeah, once I think.”

“Did you make a wish?”

“I guess so.”

“Has the universe granted your wish then?”

“A secret shall remain a secret.”

You hummed in response.

Truth to be told, the both of you were keeping secrets from each other: your identities. Sure, you both knew each other as next-door neighbours, but what else?

Perhaps he has the upper hand here. He knows you’re a university student from the first ride on his bike, he (somehow) knows you’re searching for a job from the second ride, and now he knows your little late night konbini run affair. All you know about him is that he rides a bike and likes jelly fruit sticks.

But you don’t mind. In fact, you like this anonymity. It’s what makes the relationship between the two of you more engaging, precious and real. You could let down your guard with him. No judgements, no defensive barriers, no facades.

Sure, you would be curious about his background at times. Is he the same age as you? Is he a fellow struggling university student like you? Or has he plunged into the battlefield called work already? But if you could be you wholeheartedly, and he could be him wholeheartedly too, that’s what matters the most at the moment.

“Are you certain that you made your wish correctly?”

“Are there procedures for making wishes upon shooting stars?”

“Duh. You gotta look up to the night sky, close your eyes, clasp your hands together, then make your wish. That’s how it works.”

“You could shake hands with my younger sister and be sappy drama sisters.”

“Maybe that’s why your wish hasn’t come true yet.”

“I’m not falling for your trap.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Man, I can’t believe nothing came out from what I studied for the whole week. Nothing. My feelings have been cheated on.”

Atsumu and you were currently slumped over the table at the convenience store next to the university, each with a hotdog in hand, along with an array of snacks scattered across the table. The both of you had just finished your classes for the day, and instead of grabbing proper dinner, you both were stuffing yourselves with junk food like children.

As to quote Atsumu, “Where’s the joy in life in blindly following the rules? Rules were meant to be broken. And it’s not like we do it every day.”

“Giving up so quickly? What happened to the ‘new semester new me resolution’, huh.”

Atsumu slammed his face on the table, groaning in distress. “Everything’s a scam. Life is a scam.”

You huffed out a small laugh at his exaggeration, eyes riveting back to the bustling street outside the window. Groups of students making their way to the bus and train station, couples choosing their dinner place hand-in-hand after work, a line forming outside the newly opened sushi place that served sushi on a mini bullet train. A typical Thursday evening.

A familiar jet-black bike among the line of bikes lined up by the pavement in front of the convenience store caught your sight. Oh?

Your mouth must’ve worked faster than your brain as Atsumu looked up to face the same direction you were looking at. “What yer looking at?”

“Oh, Suna must be around here somewhere. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

Suna, huh. Nice name.

“That’s one sexy looking bike, isn’t it? I always wanted a ride, but dude always speeds off even before I have the chance. Treats it like his wife. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone one ride it besides him.”

“Poor you, it’s a really nice ride.”

“The engine sounds amazing too- Wait. Wait a hot second. You rode it before? How? You know Suna?” Atsumu’s energy switch was turned back on, eyes wide like saucers as you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He’s my next-door neighbour, duh.” Atsumu swore he was so close to throwing hands at your nonchalant attitude on the matter.

“Speaking of the devil, there he is.”

Suna emerged from the bakery on the opposite street, a bag of freshly baked goods in hand. Crossing the busy road to your side of the street, a glint of surprise gleamed in his eyes at the sight of both of you through the window, mostly from the shock and betrayal expression of the blond. He nodded to Atsumu in greeting, which was replied with Atsumu barking questions at him from the inside.

“What the hell, Suna? We’ve been friends for so long and I’ve never had a ride before, and she gets a ride? Really, Suna? I thought we’re more than this-”

“You know he can’t hear you from outside, right?” Atsumu paused to stare at you for a moment, and continued shooting questions and making dramatic gestures to the boy grinning slyly at him outside.

Suna turned his eyes to you, tipping his head towards his bike. Wanna go home?

You gave him a smile. Yeah, sure.

You got up from your seat and shoved half of the snacks on the table into your bag. “Later, Atsumu.” You bid the blond goodbye, patting his shoulder in condolence as he gawked at the both of you like endangered animals in the zoo.

“Suna you lil shit.”

Maybe you weren’t only getting rides back home on his bike, maybe you were getting a ride into his heart too.

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yuzukult · 3 years

Text

i’m bad too 16 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none a/n: :D hope you guys enjoy!! taglist: @wownajaemin @crescent-iak @ncttboo @byunbaekby @jinfizz @doyoungyoung @ahgayeah0305 @doyobun @sexualitaeyong @mrkleelvr @m1ss-foodi3 @hcwurld

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Doyoung looks so pretty like this.

The space between his brows are crinkled in vexation, hair unstyled and brushing against his forehead with his lips pursed while focusing on the task at hand. He’s taken the day off of his internship for this, with approval from your brother, and plus, the way his eyes are sunken and the breakouts on his skin are appearing, it seems like he deserves to chill out for a bit.

But, he seems to refuse to do that, opting that his priority is to take care of you.

Doyoung hasn’t been back to his apartment other than just to grab the necessities—his business casual attire for work, underwear, some lounge clothes, and just things here and there that might be useful. But he hasn’t slept in the comforts of his own bedroom, no, instead he’s been sleeping at your side in your room.

“Would you stop squirming?”

“Well, you could say it’s a bit weird when someone else does it for you.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Be cooperative. I’m trying to make it better.”

You puff your cheeks in agitation, stubborn because you’re not used to this much physical touch, despite the amount of times you’ve slept with Doyoung. There’s something about this that feels more intimate, not like a quick bang for pleasure, but rather he’s doing this because he cares about you.

“Steady. Just a little longer and we’ll be good.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“It has not been twenty minutes.” Doyoung isn’t that same soft boy you met months ago. He’s gotten intrepid, unabashed by any smart or sharp remarks that you throw his way, in fact, he dodges them or bites the bullet before resuming back to having you in his arms. “You think it’s been twenty minutes because you’re preoccupied with nagging about how you don’t like this happening.”

“It’s weird,” you state, tapping your fingers against the wooden frame of your bed as a distraction. You could use a cigarette, but somehow you managed to let a pretty boy like Doyoung convince you to stop. “I don’t like having people this close.”

“I’m literally just replacing your gauze.”

You frown. “It’s… intimate.” Doyoung can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at your response as he reaches for a fresh new gauze. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do, I just—”

“You won’t let your own boyfriend touch you like this?” He queries, and you’re starting to find yourself in this position often. He’d say something bold, something that he normally doesn’t do, and it leaves you feeling small like you used to do to him. Oh, how the tables have turned. He calls himself your boyfriend recently, despite not officially making it a label, but you like it. It feels… right, for once, like this is how it’s supposed to be.

“It’s not that,”

“Then you should just let me do this, yeah?” He tosses the old bandage into the trash. “Plus, we’re almost done anyways. Would you like to go on a walk after this? I kind of wanted to talk about something.”

Staying put, you inhale in a deep breath in surrender because you’re curious about what he wants to discuss. He remains focused, wrapping you once again, despite the fact that the staff at your house offers to do it since it’s their job, but Doyoung insists it’s his job as much as theirs.

After pulling your shirt down, he offers a hand, helping you transition over to your wheelchair, one you’ve grown to hate because it makes you feel helpless, and Doyoung takes you down the hall.

“There’s an elevator down the hall.”

“A what?”

“An elevator,” you reiterate, and Doyoung doesn’t move, feet rooted into the ground. “We don’t have many floors because we do have an elevator. Goes here, the lobby, basement, then the wine cellar.”

“There’s a wine cellar under your basement?”

“You don’t have one?” He knows it’s a joke, so he just shakes it off and heads over to the large metal doors. Your personality never showcases your wealth, and although he’s in your beautiful home with staff that fills up the majority of it, he still forgets the money you come from.

Naeun is still gorgeous, despite the bruises on her cheeks and the cuts that are scattered across her face.

She’s wiping her hands, after running them under the water in the sink, soaping up her previously flawless porcelain skin that’s now marked with the aftermath of another fight. “How are you feeling?”

“Could be better,” you admit, rolling around the kitchen in your wheelchair. “How are you feeling?”

“Bitchin’,” she states calmly, giving a thankful gaze in Doyoung’s direction when he slides over the first aid kit toward her. “Lover boy been takin’ care of ‘ya?”

“Wish he’d go home and take a break for once, but yeah. Good boy decided he wants to play nurse.”

“Why do you guys talk like I’m not here?”

The two of you shrug, waving him off as Naeun hops onto the granite countertop and begins tending to her own wound. “There’s been another attack,” you glare at her and Naeun only rolls her eyes. “He already knows, don’t act like he’s all innocent to this.” She dabs the remnants of blood on her lip before grabbing the disinfectant wipe. “Johnny’s dead, just so you know.”

“What? Johnny’s dead?”

“Nah, he’s undercover,” she winces at the impact of the alcohol against her open cut. “Fuck.”

You furrow your brows. “Why would you tell me that?”

“Just kidding, he’s dead.”

“Naeun,” you say sternly. She’s playing another game.

“Just kidding. I’m just testing your cognitive skills.” Searching for the neosporin, she gives a quick scoop of the ointment and applies it on. “Seeing if you can still think the same. I have a really bad itch that they’re gonna ask you to come back, love.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’m interested in,” you’re pointing to all of your gunshot wounds. “Got a couple holes in my body that are still whistling when the wind blows.” Tilting your head, you’re trying to make out the expression on her face from underneath all that hair. “What’s with that look?”

She jolts her head at you. “What look?”

“You know something.”

“Other than Johnny’s death?”

“Naeun.”

“Alright,” she sighs, leaning back against her arms. You can’t help but notice the twitch in her lip, and it’s not from her cut. “Rumor has it, they’re going to try to initiate you again. This time, maybe not so nicely.”

“Even after I went through all that trouble? In case they’ve forgotten but I literally have holes in my body. I risked my life for the guy and here I am, sitting in a wheelchair, unable to fucking take a piss by myself, and he wants me to hop back on the field again?”

“You know how he is,” Naeun says apologetically, although none of this is her fault. She’s just the middle man, the bearer of bad news, and she’s only doing her job by protecting the Boss but you’re not even directly tied to the group, just simply a contractor. “He sees your capabilities, thinks you’re more than worthy, he wants to keep you. Seeing that you’re standing in front of the bullets, taking one for the team and protecting those who are part of us… it only makes him want you more.”

“But he can’t even wait?” You exasperate, baffled by his abruptness despite the fact you were still going through a recovery period. “I’m not even ready yet.”

“Well, he’ll give you some time—”

“You’re making it sound like it’s soon.”

She looks pained. “It… It is soon. He thinks the sooner you begin training, the better. You’ll be better equipped and—”

“I thought this was supposed to be temporary,” you state, voice firm. “I mentioned prior that this was simply a gig I needed to get by.”

“This was before you caught the mole. Before you put yourself in danger, protecting the members of the organization. You proved yourself more than capable, and he wants that. He wants you. You get the job done. Why do you think we keep coming back and hiring you? Because sometimes, you don’t even need a gun. You have your fucking head and that’s the weapon.”

“Well, I need a break.”

“There is no break.”

“Naeun, I almost died. To be quite frank, I don’t give a fuck what Taeyong says. I’m taking a break.”

The sunset is breathtaking; warm hues over the horizon, shining on the Good Boy’s face and only adding on to the fact that he’s also the golden boy. Seated on the picnic blanket beside you, he’s resting his weight back on his arms, eyes closed, soaking in the sun with a soft smile upon his face, inhaling in deep breaths to soothe his nerves. “This is nice. I’m glad you suggested it.”

You hate that you have to lean against this make-shift seat, back pressed on the trunk of the tree. But it hurts so bad to sit on your own; parts of your torso require you to straighten yourself because any slight bend stings. You desperately miss being able to function on your own—it’s so embarrassing asking your boyfriend to do things for you.

“You good?” He asks, turning over his shoulder to glance at you. “I hear you wincing.”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, adjusting yourself once more. “I’m just… getting comfortable.”

Doyoung sighs, finally picking up on your personality and habits by now, so he slides himself back just a bit and extends his legs. “Come here.”

You quirk a brow. “What?”

He pats his lap. “Come here. Lay your head on my lap, and enjoy the sun with me. We can soak in the warmth, and talk about what’s on your mind. Feels like you’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and not a whole lot of talking.”

Conceding, it takes you a while but with Doyoung’s help, you’re finally laying—there’s less pain in this position, and you’re grateful he suggests it. He brushes your hair out of your face, a soft smile looking down at you that tugs on your heartstrings. “You’re probably thinking a lot.”

“I am,” he admits, pursing his lips. “Have been for a while.”

“Well… will you tell me?” You’d be lying if you said that Doyoung confessing he’s been pondering frequently doesn’t make you nervous. There’s always that possibility of him deciding that maybe this wasn’t for him—that taking care of you, learning you’re a sort of a hitman and part of some shady organization, or that your family owned the company that he worked at wasn’t… what he signed up for.

But that stupid grin doesn’t ever wipe off of his face. “What is it?”

And with a gentle voice, he says with a press of a kiss on the crown of your head, he says these words that have you levitating. “I love you.”

#doyoung smut #nct smut #doyoung x reader #doyoung #doyoung fanfic #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct u fanfic #gyukultfics

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Of Midnight Smoothies and Murder Mysteries

Summary: Sneaking out for a movie turns out to be a bad idea.

A/n: So... this was supposed to com out on Halloween then I confessed about thirst then my priorities shifted. Well, since I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving this is just extended Halloween. It would be funny to do a Thanksgiving thing with the Batfam. Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @lucy-roo for proof reading this crack. Thanks for @ereawrites for the encouragement. And thanks to @littleredwing89 for the mood board. (I love you my dear enabler.) Also “[ ]” will indicate characters speaking in a different language. I sadly could not find grammar stuff for the language so you will have to bear with me. This is still part of the Merc! Reader series.

Warnings: Gore, a lot of blood, dumb bickering, Dick being a cute dork, and snake bleps.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

"Aliens don't exist," You huff around your thoroughly chewed straw, swirling the radioactive green smoothie Dick insisted that you try. You debate on whether to take out the bag of confectioners sugar you bought and pour it in. Dick makes a noise, indiscernible with his own straw in his mouth. You cast a glance at him only to see his neon blue smoothie spurting out of his nose. Your snort quietly, the noise hidden by the rustling of grocery bags against your bouncing leg but based on the way he’s pouting at you, Dick clearly sees your lack of sympathy and takes offense. You shrug at him.

Brushing the liquid away with the sleeve of his denim jacket, Dick levels you his best batglare. You give him an impassive half-asleep response of ‘hnnn’ which just gave him flashbacks about talking to Bruce. You’re entirely too focused on the fact that the blue of the smoothie is still alarmingly stark even against the blue of the denim. “You’ve met Superman, right?”

You roll your eyes at his piss poor attempt at intimidating you and pinch your straw between your thumb and index finger, trying to break apart the clumps of ice preventing you from getting more smoothie. “-Met is a strong word-” You drawled causing him to sneer. “Just say he kicked your ass six ways to Sunday like a normal person.”

“I fought him.”

“You got your ass beat-” You glare at him sticking your green tongue out at him and in return he sticks his blue tongue out at you. It was true but he didn’t have to say it. This is always how your long-held arguments start.

“Besides, aren’t you and Slade metas?” He breaks in after a long moment, instantly cutting off the possibility of weeks of not talking to each other. You smile balefully at him. “Precisely.”

“What? How does you being a weirdo disprove aliens?”

You make an affronted sound through your nose but launch into your explanation in your professorial voice. “The guy’s gotta be some kind of meta and he probably just came up with the Krypton thing afterwards. It sounds cooler, yanno?”

Dick looks up to the smog covered Gotham sky, leaning back against the solid brick pillar behind him. “Well, why can’t he be an alien?” He says dreamily tracing unseen constellations with his right hand. You briefly remember him mentioning stargazing with his parents when he was younger. There is something warm in the memory even if it wasn’t yours. You look down at him, eyebrow ticking. “Ok genius, tell me why there would be aliens that look exactly like us?”

“Why not?” He says grinning at you. The sterile lighting of the grocery store light filtering through smudgy windows highlighting his features. The shadows highlighting the shape of his cheekbones and the dimples forming at the edges of his cheeks. When had Dick gone from cute to handsome? You shake your head, avoiding his smiling corscian blue eyes.

“Becaaauuuuuse, dipshit, that’s not how evolution works” You bite out.

“What about convergent evolution?” He offers casually and your tongue freezes. A light flickers in his eyes and his pretty mouth twitch up into a laugh when you fail to respond. “You forgot about that, didn’t you? HA”

“I regret this conversation.”

“HA”

“Superman fanboy” you accuse, jabbing a finger into his chest. Dick giggles either from your weak deflection or the fact he’s ticklish, either way, your stomach does somersaults.

“Just say you’re wrong.” He says grinning, the divots formed by his dimples becoming more apparent. You feel Yasiri’s tail flick across your collarbone, her body coiling up in response to your irritation. Your mouth curls too but the irritation doesn’t quite boil over as you expected it to, not when Dick smiles at you like that. There’s a strange twisting in your stomach. You aren’t sure what it is but you’re pretty sure that you don’t like it. You blow out a breath, sound caught between a tired laugh and a long-suffering sigh, and pick your grocery bags before getting up.

Not even 5 seconds after you resolve to abandon him, Dick’s already by your side, falling into step with you bumping his shoulder against yours in a placating gesture. Yasiri slithers from the skin on the base of your neck to hiss at him. Dick smiles at her unfazed despite the clear and present danger. He pets her without much fuss from your usually ferocious snake. You make an amused noise at her compliance.

The walk is spent in easy companionable silence. The kind you two settle into when Dick knows you need to settle down. You were a sore loser when it comes to arguments but so was he, so you tend to let the other work through it. You grimace at your lightly scuffed shoes. They weren’t expensive or flashy or even one of a kind but they were comfortable, reliable, and most importantly they were from Mr. Wintergreen- Uncle Wintergreen, he insisted. The fact that he’d taken the time at all made your stomach flip-

Your stomach dropped. Your throat and mouth felt dry. The scent of copper permeating the air as you stared at the red puddle beneath your white shoes, a severed finger poking at you.

"Y/n?"

You must have stopped abruptly. You turn to Dick mechanically and see his face crumple into worry. Before you can rush out words of dismissal, your ears tune in to the sounds of a haunting melody. Yasiri rattles around your neck once again leaving the safety of your collar bone. Your head swivels mechanically towards the old theatre. Dick looks at you curiously, concern flashing in his eyes when another scream erupts from the theater. You both stiffen, spines straightening. Eyes blown wide, your feet take you toward the theater.

Dick falls into step with you.”You’re not seriously going, are you? You’ve- Didn’t we just watch a horror movie?”

“You seem to be going the same way.” You point out, side-eyeing him sharply, the sour look on your face not betraying the anxiety cloying at your spine. In the corner of your eye, you can see Dick huffing and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m Robin.”

“And I kicked your ass just 2 days ago and served it on a silver platter while quoting the one and only Arnold Schwarzenegger,” You grin absolutely, unequivocally unapologetic.

“I was protecting civilians!” He protests, throwing up his hands theatrically.

“Iieerrelevant~”

Dick opens his mouth to contest your point but there really was convincing you on that. His face screws up and being the gracious loser that he is, he sticks his still neon blue tongue out at you. You, being the graceful winner that you were, stick your radioactively neon green tongue at him in answer.

You continue to bicker about the merits of his heroism on the battlefield 'til you reach the front of the theater. You tuck your grocery bags behind debris by the entrance making sure to keep them well hidden. Dick wants to point out that they’ll probably be gone by the time you two are done but Yasiri was staring at him like she was about to strike at him for real this time.

It- It wasn’t hard to get into the building. Dick held out his hand to you as you climbed over another set of debris. You take it. You thank him clumsily. He bows to you a gremlin smile spreading across his face. You sneer but give him a sharp smile in return.

It’s dark. The absence of light is thick. It makes the sounds of your heartbeats uncomfortably loud. You swallow. You trace your finger along your skin, the hilt of your knife falls easily into your hand. You trace your finger on your other arm and hand the knife to Dick who shakes his head. You shrug and let it melt back into your skin.

“You have a tracker on you, right?”

“No-” You eye him, cutting him a look of disbelief. “I-”

“Relax, I have one too.” You deadpan.

Dick sighs. “You’re dad’s paranoid too?”

“So is yours” You snip, hackles drawn.

“Bruce isn’t my dad.”

“Slade isn’t mine either.”

“Mentors?” Dick offers placatingly.

“Polite way of saying bossy prick, I guess.” You roll your eyes but concede.

“I mean I don’t know about Wintergreen but Alfred taught me some manners.” Dick shrugs, folding his arms behind his head somehow relaxed despite the thick scent of blood in the air or maybe this was how Dick was when he was nervous.

The truth was Wintergreen had attempted to teach you manners but he’d run into quite a few problems. The first being that you were a terrible student. Sure, you caught on quickly when you could but anything you didn’t gravitate towards didn’t hold your limited attention long enough to make an actual impact on you. Now that in of itself was fixable with the right kind of bribery. The other problem was less so. Your mentor, if you could really call him that, was a rude bastard. Long story short, you’ve never seen the point, much to Wintergreen’s chagrin and Slade’s amusement. You were, however, a master of mouthing off.

“Shouldn’t we call back up?”

You flick your eyes to him, uselessly, but based on the shifting of the body beside you he somehow got the message. “Go ahead, if you wanna explain to big daddy bats why you’re hanging out with me, sure.”

Yeah. That wasn’t an option. There was, of course, a silent understanding that bats probably knew about your little hangouts but still.

You pad the walls with your left hand while your right was gripping Dick’s sleeve, white-knuckled. You cringe every now and again feeling the walls slick with what you weren’t eager to investigate. You strain your ear to listen for odd sounds but mostly to see if Dick, as you suspect, is echolocating.

“How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Silently echolocating?”

Dick snickers. “I am not. You do know B isn’t an actual bat, right?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot he was just a furry.” You sneer. Dick snorts a sound caught between amusement and offense. He clearly respected Bruce. Not the same way you respected Slade, maybe, but you understood how larger than life the Batman was even if he was the biggest pain in your ass by far.

“Do you really have any room to make fun of my mentor when yours has ‘Stroke’ in his name?”

“I have plenty of room, probably. Why not echolocate to check just how much room I have?”

“Listen here-”

The opera music floods the silent hall, sharp and clear. You feel the air around you catch fire and your fraying nerves. You turn your head to Dick. Despite not being able to see him, you know his mouth flattens and his brow wrinkles the way they do when you two agree to do something incomprehensibly stupid. This time you do not argue or question or even complain. You simply go forward.

A scream, messy and jagged, tangles with the smooth crispness of the opera music. It makes your stomach turn almost as much as the idea of who or, more appropriately, whatever was behind it. You were familiar with the cruelties Gotham’s monsters were capable of. You have, after all, worked for quite a few.

But this?

This pure, uncut agony in that scream? That was just something you could not stomach. You feel Dick flinch at the sound, almost jumping out of his skin. You squeeze his arm once, then twice, then twice once more. You feel his hand on your wrist, reciprocating the gesture. You smile at him reassuringly not knowing whether it would make things better or whether he can actually see it.

Neither of you is particularly good at dealing with people’s pain. That might not be the right word for it. Neither of you coped well. You absorbed too much of it. You were, however, much better at hiding it. Not that you could fault Dick on that. You didn’t even attempt. For Dick, humanity was a part of the job. Compassion? Kindness? That was to be expected of a hero not derided. To uphold that in the face of Gotham’s worst, that took strength.

Strength, in your case, was directed elsewhere. Something bone-breaking, more visceral. You suppose that was the problem with keeping company with survivors. Perpetually dancing on the brink of death robbed you of something but you haven’t exactly known any other life besides this.

The end of the hall is light by bright lights, sterile white, the kind you only saw in clinics. Your head runs through the catalog of Gotham’s rogues, possibilities of which utter psychopath could possibly be doing this.

“We should call the cops.”

Not really really paying attention, you nod. You should probably. You grip the handle of your knife, flexing your fingers nervously, as another scream cuts through the air. Dick’s body curls, recoiling at the sound. The sound, this close, was enough to make you twitch.

“Can’t we just text them?”

“What do you think this is? Canada?”

“Ok, fair but make sure to tell them you’re Dickle Grayson.” You tease, smiling way too easily considering the creepy atmosphere.

Dick crosses his arms over his chest.“And summon a media storm?”

“It would get the police here faster.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Dick wishes he could wipe the absolutely smug grin off your face. “We need to back up. You know, in case, he can hear us.”

“I mean you are the one unarmed here.” You say, waving your arms at him.

“No, I’m not. I have my bird-a-rangs.” Dick preens, taking them out from some pocket hidden in his jacket.

“Bird-a-rangs.” You echo, raising a brow.

“Yup. Bird-a-rangs.”

“You are officially- no, you are legally not allowed to name things.”

Dick makes an offended squawking noise.“Oh, come on! Still not as bad as Sharknado.”

“Take. That. Back. Heathen.”

“Make me.”

Both of you still. Yasiri unfurls from your collarbone, her tail rattling. You spin on your heel. Your knife swings out in a wide crescent of light. Thick crimson splashes across your face. At the end of your knife was a person- no, it was a person in the past tense. It makes a small cry when you wiggle the blade planted in its throat a fraction. Otherwise, it ignores the fact that it is, in fact, bleeding out from its jugular. It’s thick, clumsy limbs reach for you. Your stomach rolls. The thing in front of you, the mangled approximation of what was once a person, is lurching towards you. You think you sneer in disgust but your face is far too numb to tell.

“Dick! Just call the cops!” You snarl, panic rising audibly as more bodies emerge from God knows where. You kick the one to your front off to the side, shredding its neck. It takes everything in you not to vomit. In the corner of your eye, you see Dick type as he kicks another one away. You two back into each other as the bodies close around you, cutting off all the exits. You roll up your sleeve tracing a blood-soaked finger over the lines of your tattoo and producing another knife. Dick pulls out his bird-a-rangs.

Dick landed blows but they weren’t hard enough to maim or be fatal. Even if he was to hit them with the sharp bird-a-rangs, he would still aim non fatally. Slade would kill you if you fought so inefficiently or maybe he would just taunt you. Either way, you didn’t care much for Dick’s squeamishness right now as the bodies kept getting back up. As far as you can tell, you’re doing them a favor.

The first wave of bodies rushes towards you. Their limbs jutting towards you clumsily. You swing your blade, vicious and precise. You feel metal clash against flesh, against bone. Blood coats every available surface on you. You hear Dick squawk and you don’t really need to turn around to check that he’s also covered in it too. The spray of blood makes the air thick with the scent of copper. The blood on your skin burns.

“Duck!”

“Goose!” You shout, ducking and slashing down at a row of bodies and legs. You hear his bird-a-rangs slice through the air cleanly and land on one of the creature's shoulders. You let out a huff of air thinking of all the more permanent places it could have landed. He throws a few more hitting them in the face.

Dick launches over you, using you as a springboard. You grunt and he winks at you like a showman. His foot predictably lands an impressive blow on one of the creature's faces. You two regroup back to back immediately after he lands.

Your eyes widen a fraction when a hand from out of nowhere grabs at your face catching you off guard. Your breath catches when you feel a hand at your shoulder pushing you down. A fist makes contact with the creature’s swollen face and it takes a moment for your mind to realize that it’s Dick’s hand on your shoulder and Dick’s fist making contact with the creature.

“Thanks,” You mumble, straightening yourself out. “I had it.”

“You’re welcome, Pookie.” You flush as Dick winks at you. “You know I literally have your back.” He teases. You groan bending back into a fighting stance.

“When we get out of here alive, we are working on your sense of humor.” Dick chuckles at that, making your muscles ease. “Says the person who shouted ‘Goose!’.”

You land every blow with every intent to make it fatal. Dick is still sticking to his nonfatal method. Normally, it was pure joy to watch Dick as he fights. The sheer control he commands over his muscles was awe-inspiring. Despite his size, he’s able to land blows just as powerful as yours. He would truly be terrifying if he were to be anything but himself.

These bodies. They’re too alive, too much. The next wave comes at you more fervently with more bodies. Another wave of nausea hits you when hands grasp at your arms. Your stomach tries to twist out of your abdomen. You try to wrench yourself free. You pull and twist and thrash, only succeeding in getting yourself pulled in deeper.

“Dick!” You cry reflexively. The coarseness in your voice lets the fear spill all over your vowels.

Dick’s corscian eyes widen with a flash of panic. To Dick, you and death were two separate lines running on parallel tracks next to each other, never quite crossing and never belonging to the same headspace. Completely mutually exclusive as far as he knew. But right at this moment, right as you’re about to be swallowed whole by the crowd of misshapen bodies, he watches those lines slowly intersect. Dick doesn’t know where his heart has leaped to.

“Y/n!”

The world resurfaces in a surge of bright white light. Some small part of you is really hoping that Dick is, for once, right about the alien thing. Quietly you draw in a calming breath. It’s shallow not wanting your chest to rise too much to give away your consciousness.

The opera music is blaring in your still ringing head which isn’t helped by the wannabe opera singer belting his lungs out. Thankfully, that means he’s distracted. You move your limbs checking. Everything seems to be intact AND you seem to be tied up to someone instead of something which was either good or bad depending on who it is.

“Mornin’ sleepy head” Dick mumbles quietly, sounding relieved. You click your teeth in irritation.

“Morning, Disco Stick. Any chance you magically woke up with a plan or were you just taking a beauty nap?”

“I don’t need one and sort of.”

“Well shit, we’re screwed then.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m sorry which of us is running around doing somersaults when they’re assaulting criminals?”

“In my defense, flipping makes my kicks land harder.” Which was true but you were feeling snippy. “It also gives them much more time to dodge or counter.”

“Killjoy.” You roll your eyes, smiling. You know he’s being cute and pouting. Given this is really not the time considering there is a man butchering another man a few feet away from you while singing bad opera. You really did stumble into a horror movie. “Please tell me you called Batman or the police.”

“Both.”

“How?”

“Some of us are good at multitasking.” Dick chirps proudly leaning against you. You scoff judging just how tightly the ropes are bound around you.

“Well, you are good at being insufferable while still breathing.”

“Isn’t that part of my charm?”

You snicker accidentally tugging at the binds around you. You hear Dick wince likely from what is a bruised rib or, heaven help you, a broken one. “Sorry.” You whisper low and small.

Shit. What if he had a broken rib. Shit. Shit.

“I’m ok, Hon.” Dick laughs making sure to lay the Delaware accent thick. It makes your chest feel warm even though everything else in you was freezing from dread. You snort. “Fine, bleed out for all I care.”

“Awwww don’t be like that.” You sigh. You hate how weak you are to his puppy dog eyes. You can’t even see it. You decide to change the subject instead. “So what are the odds that we’re escaping if we break out of their bonds now?”

“Not high.”

“Even if I get Yasiri to gently inject him with poison?”

“Please tell me you didn’t bring poison to our hangout.”

“I mean. Do twinkies count?”

“No.”

“Ok, fine. So we’re stalling then.”

“Pretty much.”

“I hate this.”

“You were the one who started heading in.”

“Why didn’t you stop me then?”

The man at the surgical table turns to you with a whimsical flourish as the body on the table goes limp. No, not limp. Docile. You have just witnessed a person become a body, you think numbly. The way the fight so easily left its limbs made you shudder, feeling the fight in your own limbs fleeting out. This isn’t how you want to die, not by the hand of a madman. At least, not until you’ve put your own demons to rest.

“Look who’s awake,” He drawls, his voice slimy and all the vowels coming out at the wrong pitches. Dick shifts the two of you so that he’s angled slightly in front of you. He squares his shoulder trying to make his lean form look far bigger than it actually is. You smile at his attempt to be protective because deep down you both know you’re the more intimidating one and you’re the one who can take more punishment. Your power and training have those pleasant side effects.

You see him draw closer making you snarl. “Come any closer and I swear I will rip your throat out.” You are surprised at how even the threat came out but the distilled ferocity you had put into it didn’t quite show, likely blunted by the fear pooling in your stomach.

“Don’t worry I’ll make you perfect too. I promise.” He reaches past Dick, grabbing you by the back of your neck. The grip on you is bruising and callous. He forces you to bow your head and look down at the bloodstains on your clothes. The browning blots of red stain your white Wonder Woman shirt. You swallow. You felt like a lamb being dragged to slaughter. Dick, likely without thinking, bites down on the man’s wrist.

The man pulls away with a cry, cradling his bleeding wrist. “Are you ok?” Dick asks, spitting blood out, eyes shiny with concern. You gulp down air before nodding. Dick presses closer to you reassuring you. Shaken, you press back, careful not to press hard enough to hurt him.

Your floundering mind comes to one conclusion. You can’t let him touch Dick. You use your strength to shift your positions so that Dick is completely behind you. Dick tries to move you back but you plant your heels preventing him from even inching.

The man grabs you by the collar of your shirt, pulling you off the ground. You hear Dick’s breath hitch. His heart rate kicks up and so does yours. Fury burning in the man’s eyes. “WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?” He screams, shaking you. “NO. NO. NO. MY- I’M- NO! PERFECT. I NEED- I NEED TO BE PERFECT.” Somehow the spit flying in your face grosses you out more than the blood probably drying on your face. It’s only winning by a small margin though.

Bile is rising in your throat. Still, you grin, sneering and taunting. “Trust me you didn’t need help in the department,” You jeer. Dick squirms behind you. Urging you to stop. You don’t. “You think those pisspoor excuses for creatures you sicced on us were perfect. HA!” You can feel Dick shaking his head behind you. You nudge him assuring him you’ve got a plan. You did. Sort of. It’s more of a goal really. Take his attention off of Dick.

“[Y/n, please no. Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing. But I can take it. Moon, please.]” Dick pleads, voice hoarse and desperate. ‘Shion’. Moon. The endearment glances of your ribs like a well placed kick to the chest. You don’t let your eyes flick to him. “[Which us is meta here?]” You whisper back in broken Romani. You cringe a little knowing just how badly you butchered the sentence. Dick makes an affronted noise. “Cham.” You whisper quietly, trying to shape your vowels and consonants correctly. Dick’s breath catches. Sun. Sure, the endearment seemed inadequate, too succinct, when compared to how much you care for him but as of right now it will have to do.

The man shakes you again dragging your attention away from Dick. Your smarmy grin cuts across your face as if you’re not pissing yourself from fear. A large hand grabs your face. Your entire body braces itself for your neck to be twisted but it does not come. He tilts your head back side to side. “You’re going to need a lot of work.”

Your heart stops. Dick thrashes behind you. You want to elbow him. You want to scream at him to stop fucking moving but you’re entire body is numb. Your eyes flick to the man, no, the body on the table. It is breathing and writhing in agony. Your breaths pick up. You- you don’t- you can’t-

You hear a crash and the fall of debris on a dozen bodies.

“B!” Dick shouts distantly. The grip on your collar disappears. A black clad fist hangs in front of you. Your eyes trace up the arm in front of you only to be met with the scowling face of the Batman. You swallow nervously while Dick lets out another enthusiastic ‘B’. Batman makes quick work of your ropes, all the while glaring at you for what you don’t know. Maybe somehow he knows this whole situation was your fault.

Once released, the first order of business, at least for Dick, is to throw his arms around Batman’s shoulders. Awkwardly, he reciprocates your friend’s affection. The hold he has on Dick cannot be mistaken as anything but protective. You find humor in the fact at how obvious their familial connection is yet they deny it. A teasing remark rises up your throat but is abruptly shoved back down by Batman’s unrelenting glare. Was he born glaring?

“What are you doing here?” Less of a question and more of a growled accusation.

“Careful, his rib might be broken.” You stumble out dumbly. Dick glares at you but compared to Batman’s it looks more like a pout which is, again, hilarious. Batman loosens his grip on Dick and apparently, this is now the time Dick chooses to realize that his mentor (read: dad) is trying to turn you into ash with a scowl.

Dick peels away from him stepping in front of you. He widens his stance to shield you from the larger man. Dick feels an odd surge of protectiveness and he’s not about to let B attack you, especially not after what just happened.

They stare each other down. They seem to be having a silent argument. You want to cut in but you’re afraid you might actually turn into ash with the intensity of Batman’s gaze.

The loud blaring of sirens mingle with the still playing opera music in the background as a tidal wave of police officers and paramedics rush in.

-----

You pestered the medic to let you stay with Dick.

“So, what do you plan on doing?” Dick asks, leaning against you pointedly ignoring the paramedic's instruction to be careful. You let him lean into you. You know he needs all the comfort he can get. You rest your head against his hair, placing a kiss on his scalp. Dick doesn’t comment afraid that you might withdraw if he teases you too much.

“Maybe grow out my hair,” You joke, pinching a lock of hair between your fingers. “Might as well considering how grounded I’ll be. Well, if uncle Wintergreen has anything to say about it.”

Dick extricates himself from your shoulder and turns to you with a pensive look. Tilting his head, he looks at you appraisingly, wrinkling his brow. You can’t blame him. He’s never seen you with long hair mainly because you’ve never let it get too long. Too much of a hassle, too much of a health hazard.

Dick places his jacket over your head, draping it over you like a wedding veil. You chuckle at him, barely able to keep the smile off of your face.

“How do I look?” You joke twining your fingers around the cloth. You think you see Dick blush but it was probably just the cold. Dick coughs poorly disguising his laughter. He covers his mouth, depriving you of his dimples. “ Like you’re going to get married in a jean pants suit. I have dibs on walking you down the aisle.”

You tilt your head. Your smile tilts along with it. “Nah uncle Wintergreen has dibs on that.”

Dick huffs, his shoulders sag in disappointment. It’s the closest he was gonna get to being your groom, he thinks.

I want you waiting for me at the end of the aisle. The thought makes your heart twist. You swallow it along with the huge lump in your throat. “You can be my last dance though.”

You concede. Dick brightens a little at this but not by much.

“You sure Deathstroke wouldn’t mind?”

“This implies he’ll show up. He’s a busy man.” Dick laughs at that. Genuine and very Dick. This time you don’t fight the smile off of your face.

You smile at each other and laugh. A million unspoken sentences hang between the two of you.

This love of yours is reckless.

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

a/n: Thanks for reading. Also yes I did have to include good dad Bruce and bastard mentor Slade. I only have one braincell and it is dumber than shit.

tag list: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical, @ereawrites

#dick grayson #robins #batboys x reader #batboys #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dc x reader #dc fanfic

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

Spark - 4

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shouboutai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Humiliation, slight worry, admissions. A/N: Just waaaaiting for the next episode o.O Feel free to ASK or reblog for tag – in fact: always reblog <3 Thanks to those who have already <3

4. Smoulder

Regret. Not full blown, but like a buzzing gnat near your ear as you’re standing in the sand occupying the space between the buildings of Fire Force Company Seven’s station. A handful feet across the enclosed space is the man causing the uncomfortable sensation. I should never have let Konro talking me into staying...let alone give that jerk a chance. Yet here you are, facing off with Benimaru, and you’ll be damned if you back down now.

“Don’t bother about holding back,” he shrugs cockily.

It might be less humiliating if I run now. Running won’t get you far, though, as long as the captain is intent on finding out more about you.

He hasn’t uncrossed his arms by the time the first hit lands. The impact of your palm across his cheek announces a shocked silence which you take part in even if your body is continuing on its own by strangling the sting from skin on skin in a fist.

The second strike never connects. Instead Benimaru hijacks your body by grabbing you arm, spinning you around, and next moment you’re on one knee in the sand while he holds you down by pushing between your shoulder blades and twisting the arm behind you. Now the sting in your palm feels like an insignificant itch compared to the ache of your joints.

“I’ll admit...I didn’t expect that.” At least he can’t see your smirk at knowing you pissed him off. “But you’re wrong if you think I’ll accept this and let you go. I don’t care if you’re second or third...I do mind a stranger interf-” the rest is cut off by bells ringing and a distant boom.

“Infernal!” someone yells from the other side of the wall.

The hand is warm under your hands, bracing you from landing face first as Benimaru releases you. Jerk.

“Stay.”

Woof woof.

“I’ll stay with her, Beni,” Konro offer from the door where he has appeared, “I’m not use out there anyways.”

If you hadn’t been so annoyed at everything then you might have been able to decipher the silent looks between the men, but as it is, your brain is identifying the new options that are becoming available – all of them looking promising as long as the jerk is out of the picture.

Trying to appear calm, you make your way back inside and follow the sound of people rushing to get their equipment. A few times, you have to flatten yourself against the wall to allow them to rush out to the waiting vehicle, but once the siren fades there’s no one to stop you from grabbing a worn pair of boots from underneath a random locker. The size of boats, they will look a bit odd on you (even under the baggy pants) but it doesn’t matter because everyone will be preoccupied and not pay attention to a single person.

“You won’t be able to run with those on,” Konro points out.

“The best way to run is by walking.”

The man moves out of your way, merely trailing you towards the exit. “[Y/N]...about your skill...”

Biting back a groan and a lot of cussing, you manage to keep the nerves pent up inside. “What about it?”

“You don’t have any, do you?”

Shit. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

A big hand lands on your shoulder, not heavily as if to assert force or dominance and just lightly enough to feel the trembling of your body. “If Haijima were to find out they’ll take you in and try to activate it.”

“They don’t know about me and if someone were to tip them off...” All the pent up frustration and fear morphs into anger as you whirl around and try to stare him down.

“No one threatens my people.”

Another string of curses bounce through your skull at the sound of the flat voice coming from the entry behind you. Why’s he already back? Konro might be big and strong but he also seems gentle enough that you had counted on walking out of here. Benimaru, however? Not so much. Despite apparently being bored with everything in the world, every action so far has let you to believe he’s unwilling to let go once he’s gotten hold of something. Or someone.

How much did he hear? “Why I’d never want to cause any trouble sooo I better go.” Somehow you need to get past Benimaru who’s leaning against the doorpost. “Thank you for the hospitality, Konro,” you add over your shoulder.

“[Y/N] -”

“They will find you,” the captain warns, “rumours are already circulating about the girl who tamed the Infernal.”

“I didn’t.”

“They won’t care...and neither will the Holy Sol.” His arms are crossed, somehow making his athletic shape look more like a wall than the actual wall does. “I don’t like either of them.”

Wait what? “You’re Special Fire Force.”

“Yeah, well, we do things the old way here as you might have noticed. Where should I tell them you’ve gone if they come asking.”

He’s helping me? What world is this? “Tell them I went to the Nether...plenty of places to hide there.” It’s the first time you see him arch a brow but there’s no time to admire the effect you have on him. Instead, you step into the boots. “They won’t find me.”

“You better hope not.”

One last glare at the odd eyes and then he lets you pass.

... Benimaru ...

Watching the girl hurry down the street in the oversized outfit, everything tells him she’s got a big target painted onto her and not even the most street savvy person can outrun Haijima or the Temple.

“Are you -” his old friend begins.

“No.” What a drag. “She’s a pain in the ass but I hate them more.”

Already, she’s rounding the corner and getting swallowed into the ruckus of Asakusa – celebratory noises that ought to drown the satisfied sigh coming from behind him. There’s no reason to give any orders or promises before Benimaru slips out to trail the girl because the older man knows exactly how to run Company Seven. It was his once.

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grimoireofwritings · 3 years

Note

Hiii again!! I cant get enough with ur writing. Please if u dont mind making one., again? UMM where Langris is very jealous to the black bull bcoz his s/o (fem) (a member of black bull) and shes very close with them. Or just along the lines? Thank you agaaain!!

Hello again my dear!! No need to apologize, you can send in as much as your heart desires. I am deeply sorry this is sooooo shamefully late. Chronic health difficulties have gotten a bit complicated lately and I'm trying to be more consistent with this blog. Hopefully the scenario was worth the wait!

Also I headcanon William is the squad's therapist on many occasions, you can't change my mind 💀

Scenario: Langris Vaude's fem s/o is in the black bulls.. and he's jealous!!

No matter how much he pushed the aching itch at the front of his mind away, or brushed aside the little intrusive thoughts he experienced day by day, sometimes even going so far as to manifest them in little growls of frustration and the tightening of his jaw... Langris Vaude was failing horribly... Miserably, even, to set aside his personal emotions regarding the whereabouts of his partner.

She... With those gorgeous (e/c) sparkling hues that always lit up at the sight of something she loved.. and the way the sunlight often glimmered so flawlessly against the soft sheen of her hair - was far too beyond his reach for his comfort. Not only that, it completely wracked at his nerves on a daily basis.. that he... That person.. got to see her and her beauty far more than Langris ever did.

His brother. And the black bulls in general. So unworthy of her presence, her stunning grace. Not only that, he knew about his damn brother. And even he had to admit that he'd be a blind fool not to recognize such a gorgeous woman in his proximity. Considering that shameless flirting habit, it made him grit his teeth knowing that Finral was inevitably wooing her on a daily basis. Beyond his control.

"Does he even realize how lucky he is to be graced with her mere presence?? So undeserving.."

This had been Langris' current obsession for about a month now, and it haunted him, even going as far as losing sleep against his own will. It was getting to the point that he was grinding his teeth and mumbling to himself, much to the dismay and terror of his subordinates as he passed them by in the HQ's long hallways... Probably fearing for their lives being so close to his dangerous aura, permeating off of him like a toxin.

But after one last all-nighter of complete mental torture, he was done in, he had finally caved. It took a lot, and I mean a shit load of stress to force Langris into swallowing his pride. Something he was about to do that morning.

He knew Captain Vangeance was up, even at this ungodly hour. The man seemed to enjoy getting up at the crack of dawn to get a head start on his work load, for the sake of having spare time in the evenings to tend to his private garden. Yet here was he, concerningly deep and dark bags under his eyes, as he paced and debated with himself outside the Captain's door to his office, feeling held back by his own dignity on the line to actually knock.

Eventually though, his choice was made for him, as his mumbling was interrupted by the door opening up. There was his Captain, the same trademark amiable smile on his face as he appeared before him, seemingly in a bit of a preoccupied hurry. He halted completely though upon spotting his Vice Captain, raising a brow, before his expression immediately faltered into a look of concern at the sight of Langris appearing so unhinged. Was something going on that he had failed to notice?

"Langris, good morning. You look troubled. Is there something I can help you with?" He tilted his head expectantly, a friendly and welcoming look in his eyes behind that mask of his. Langris bit his lip.. somehow the open offer made him feel even more on edge than he'd expected. Geez.. why did his Captain have to be such an insufferable softie??

Giving a few reluctant grumbles, the shorter spacial mage gave a slow nod. "Yeah... I came for some.. advice" he said, begrudgingly managing to spit out the last word distastefully. And to his slight surprise, Vangeance didn't hesitate to give a nod and he opened up the door to his office, offering the space for the two of them. "Of course. Step inside."

There was a bit of an awkward quietness as they did just that, Langris being sure to avoid eye contact - as he instead focused on the sensation of a crisp breeze passing by through the opened windows and the faint scent of the flowers William cared for in his office. It brought "life" to the space, the Captain had said.. it had made Langris scoff.

He watched Vangeance approach his desk, but instead of circling around to take a seat, he settled for leaning back against the wooden mahogany top, letting it support his weight. "Alright. What's on your mind?" He asked. It honestly sometimes amazed Langris how the Captain managed to speak in a way that was both gentle and calming, yet straightforward and confident.

"I... Have.... A girlfriend..." He started after an agonizingly long pause. Each word seemed so painfully difficult to force out through gritted teeth. But after another few passing moments, the image popped into his tormented mind again. Finral... That ridiculous, stupid, idiotic grin on his face as he flirted in the most unbecoming, disrespectful way to his precious y/n. And that was it - his resolve broke. And his insecurities became less important than his need to vent.

"She's with the black bulls. She's a magic knight under Yami and... Sometimes I just get so pissed off that my damn good for nothing brother gets to spend far more time with her than I ever can. I'm so busy and swamped with work here that I hardly even have time to make plans.. and take her on dates. I want to treat her with the respect and care she deserves, but.. I can't. And that makes me afraid."

He was gritting his teeth, utterly humiliated as tears began to prick his eyes. Why? He figured it was probably because he hadn't actually talked about his feelings with someone in ages. Perhaps he'd repressed more than he realized.

"Afraid she'll abandon you for something or someone else..?" William prompted gently. And Langris nodded. "Yeah.. I mean, my brother. We all know he was the one out of my family that our peers preferred. I was better, I was praised, I was rewarded on a materialistic level for talent. But I was never.. liked. In the way he was. With that whole soft hearted sensitive guy display. She's around him, all day, every day.. and I just... I..."

He finally cracked a bit more and planted his face in his hands, unable to finish. Completely destraught. And he was forced in that moment to face his own inner ugliness - the insecurities and jealousy he felt so much shame for harboring at all.

William gave him a brief moment, both to ensure he had finished saying all he needed to express, and to truly consider those words. He hummed. "I see. It seems this is something that's been deeply disturbing you and impacting your health, even. A very painful and helpless situation, by the sound of it. It pains me to see you so destraught, Langris."

For a moment, as Vangeance removed his mask and placed it neatly beside him, Langris mistook a look of sympathy and empathy in those eyes for something as disgusting as pity. And he snapped, making an impulsive remark in his state of frightened vulnerability.

"Whatever. As if you have any experience with women to begin with, what with that face-"

He halted abruptly before he could finish. No, that was unacceptably harsh. "I apologize." He mumbled, a moment later. William Vangeance sighed deeply, brushing off the remark. It clearly stung but he was far more concerned about his underling than himself at that moment. "You're forgiven, Langris."

The Vice Captain began to shuffle and twitch nervously, this was going so much worse than he even thought possible. But that changed with William's next words.

"Langris. I think you ought to have a little more faith in your partner's judgement, and her decision making. Despite all the time she spends with the black bulls, and your brother, she still chose you, above them. She developed those special feelings for you, and at the end of the day, you are her person.. the person she loves. Trust that judgement of hers, and that she hand selected you for a reason. Women are smart like that, they hardly waste their time with someone they aren't interested in. I am positive she cherishes you, and thinks of you, every day."

He smiled, and even approached his subordinate with a warmth in his expression. "I think.. perhaps it would reassure you to reach out to her, a bit more. She understands you have a lot of responsibility, but with women, I've definitely perceived that they appreciate even the smallest gestures immensely. Send her hand written notes, flowers, or even sweets. Whatever you know she likes the most, and would appreciate as a gesture of affection. It will remind her that you're thinking of her, and likewise, I'm positive she will respond to you in a way that provides you some peace of mind. Rekindle that romance, and maybe even.. consider opening up to her about your feelings, like you have right now."

Langris interrupted, shaking his head stubbornly. "No. Then she'll know how weak I am" he stated. Vangeance chuckled, his smile softening. "Hmm.. I disagree. I can garuntee you that she will perceive such vulnerability as trust. She'll see that you trust her integrity to confide in her. That will strengthen your relationship with her more than anything else. I promise.. just try it once, and tell me how it works out."

Langris puffed a sigh through his cheeks. "Fine... Fine. Fine." He repeated the word, each time a bit more in defeat. "Listen.. I'll try it, but only because I'm desperate. And because I want to, not because you told me to."

With that, William held back a grin of amusement, and he nodded in satisfaction. "Of course. Hopefully, that will help you out. But besides that.. I think I'm going to give you some time off. Go see her, and spend some quality time by her side. I think it would do you some good."

Langris raised a brow, seemingly a bit confused. "But Captain, all my work-" he was interrupted by a hand, that was held upwards with a sense of finality. "No buts. Besides... Your quality of work is suffering anyway due to your current state of health. I'd rather you go take care of yourself first, then return to finish up your tasks properly. Until then, I'll take care of things. You have my word that everything will be fine."

Langris took a few long moments to ponder this, and his Captain's gesture. He started to realize more and more, working alongside Vangeance, why his squad was so fiercely loyal to him, and that their team was so successful to begin with.

"Alright. I'll accept your offer. Vangeance..."

He glanced up at his Captain sheepishly as he followed the scarred man towards the exit of his office.

"Thank you. Very much."

#langris vaude #black clover imagine #black clover scenario #black clover #scenario #william vangeance #the golden dawn #golden dawn

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roseworth · 3 years

Text

Who You Care For (Chapter 1)

word count: 3.2k

description: Flynn Rider had a lot of enemies. The thing about enemies, though, is they'll always want their revenge, and they'll take drastic steps to get it.

warnings: violence, some swearing

AO3

chapter 2

If Flynn had to choose a least favorite way to wake up, it would probably be on the ground tied to a pole in a place he didn’t recognize.

He blinked his eyes a few times, hoping that somehow he was still dreaming and he would wake up any second now. His ears were ringing and the light of a lantern next to him was making his head pound. From what he could tell, he was on the floor of a tent, empty except for him and the lantern on a table next to him. There were footsteps outside as a few people passed by, but he couldn’t tell who they were.

He had no idea where he was or how he got there. Clearly, someone wanted revenge for something he did, but he had no guess as to which person he wronged it could be. Given the fact that he didn’t have a sword through his head already, he assumed it wasn’t the Baron. Could be one of the Baron’s associates, though, and they just wanted to give him or Stalyan the opportunity to kill Flynn themselves. He chose to ignore that possibility and hang on to the hope that he would make it out of here alive.

His hands were tied behind his back and attached to a pole in the center of the tent. He tugged on the ropes to see if they would give, but they were secured too tightly to let him move at all. He was pretty sure he had his knife in his pocket (if his kidnapper hadn’t taken it, that is), and if he could just find a way to reach it, he could cut through his restraints.

Before he could even try, the front of the tent opened and someone stepped in. It was a tall man that Flynn didn’t recognize. He racked his brain for who this person might be but was coming up empty. That was probably not good. “Sorry, this room is occupied,” he said sweetly. The man shot him a glare, crossing his arms and looking down at him.

“Flynn Rider, right?”

“That’s me,” he answered. “And you are?”

“They call me Morrighan.”

“What a lovely name! Did your mother give it to you?”

“You don’t make yourself easy to find, Rider,” he said, ignoring Flynn’s remarks. “‘pparently a lot of people have scores to settle with you.”

Flynn snorted. “Well, you don’t become a thief to make friends. Criminal networks aren’t exactly sororities.”

Morrighan grunted and slowly walked forward. Without warning, he kicked Flynn in the stomach, causing all the air to leave his lungs. He coughed and tried to catch his breath. He wasn’t given the chance to prepare for the impact, so the kick threw him off more than it should have.

“The hell was that for?” he said roughly after regaining his breath. He had known that he was probably in for an ass-kicking as soon as he woke up, but usually people had the decency to at least gave him an explanation before beating the shit out of him.

“You took something from me, Rider. Something I can’t get back from you.”

“Well, we just established that I’m a thief, so if you could be a little more clear-”

He was cut off with a punch straight to his jaw. “Shut up.”

He was mostly annoyed that he didn’t even get to know what this guy wanted revenge for, and apparently he couldn’t even ask. Not that he would want to ask now, though. His jaw was stinging from where he got hit, and he wasn’t in the mood to move it. He spat out the blood that was starting to collect in his mouth onto the ground beside him.

“You slept with my wife, you little bastard,” Morrighan said angrily.

“Can I talk now, or are you gonna hit me again?” Flynn asked raspily, trying to ignore the shooting pains in his face as he moved his mouth. He took the fact that he wasn’t immediately punched to mean that he was allowed to talk. “Who’s your wife?”

“My Sarah. We’ve been married for years and now she wants to leave me.”

“Hm… Sarah?” He pretended to think hard to remember her. Of course he knew who the man was talking about, he just wanted to piss him off. After a few seconds of mocking being deep in thought, Flynn smiled cheekily. “Ohhh, her. Yeah, I definitely fucked your wife.”

Morrighan let out an anguished yell, then punched him full force in the nose. I probably should have seen that one coming, Flynn thought as his head was thrown back by the punch, causing the back of his head to slam into the pole behind him. His nose started to drip with blood, and he tried to lift his hand to his nose to subdue the bleeding but was held back by the restraints around his hands. He settled for just tilting his head up to hopefully slow the blood down.

“Hey, it’s not my fault she doesn’t want you. She approached me first, said that you had some anger issues and she wasn’t happy,” he said, really just trying to press Morrighan’s buttons at this point. He was already going to get beat to a pulp, might as well irritate this guy as much as he could, right?

“Shut up!” Morrighan shouted, punching him in the jaw again. That one hurt a little less than the first time, given that it was already starting to go numb. It did cause more blood to fill his mouth, though, along with more blood to come flowing from his nose.

Morrighan unsheathed a sword and brought it right up to Flynn’s throat, pressing just hard enough to break skin. He tried to move away from the blade, but he was stuck in place as it left a stinging cut on his neck. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

“I don’t think your wife would be too happy about that,” Flynn answered with a smug smirk. He sucked in his breath as the sword was pressed harder against his neck. He knew he would need to start backtracking if he was going to make it out of here alive. “Listen, man, a lot of people want me dead. You’re gonna have a ton of people on your back if you kill me now.”

“I’d be doing everyone a favor by getting rid of you.”

“Well, you could say that, but also they’re all pretty determined to be the one to get to kill me. If you kill me now, the Baron and his daughter are gonna be especially mad,” he reasoned, hoping the desperation wasn’t clear in his voice. It wasn’t really a lie, though. He guessed that the Baron had told his men not to kill Flynn if they found him, which was the only reason he had managed to stay alive this long. If someone did bring him to the Baron someday, though, he was definitely dead.

This argument seemed to work on Morrighan, at least enough to get him to pull his sword away. Flynn coughed up a bit of blood as soon as he could breathe without getting sliced. He looked up to see the man staring down at him, hatred evident in his eyes, but there was a smile growing on his face. That was never a good sign.

“I won’t kill you. At least not yet. I want to make sure you’re alive to witness me killing everyone you love before I kill you.”

Flynn laughed at the threat. “Nice try, but I don’t have anyone I love.”

“Everyone has something, Rider. You have a family, right?”

He shook his head. “Never had, never will.”

“What about your boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” If this guy was about to call one of his random hookups his boyfriend, then he was setting himself up to be disappointed.

“Oh really? What about that big guy you’re always with?”

He felt his throat close up as he realized who Morrighan was threatening.

Lance.

“Pfft, that guy? We’ve just pulled a couple of jobs together, I don’t care about him,” he said nonchalantly. He tried to keep his face steady despite the fact his heart was racing at the thought of someone wanting to hurt his closest friend.

“So you don’t care about anyone, and the only people that care about you are the ones that want you dead,” Morrighan summarized.

“Well, when you say it like that, it just sounds sad,” Flynn joked. The other man rolled his eyes.

“I’ll keep you alive for now, but I’ll get my revenge. Mark my words.”

Flynn stayed quiet as Morrighan stormed out of the tent. As soon as he was gone, Flynn groaned quietly and let his head fall in front of him. His entire face was going numb so the pain wasn’t as bad, but his stomach still burned whenever he tried to take a deep breath.

He had to get out and warn Lance. But if anyone saw him with Lance, they both be in danger. Shit. He and Lance had enough enemies together, but knowing that Flynn’s enemies would try to hurt Lance to get to him didn’t sit right with him.

First things first, though, he needed a way to get out of this tent. Eventually, Morrighan was going to realize that his excuses were bullshit and come back to kill him, so he had to get away before that happened. There was no way anyone was simply going to let him go, so he had to find his own way out.

He shifted where he was sitting to see if he could feel the knife in his pocket. He let out a short sigh of relief when he felt it, still in his pocket where he left it. Apparently, Morrighan hadn’t bothered to take his weapons when he kidnapped him. It’s my lucky day, he thought dryly.

He shifted his body towards his tied-up hands so he could reach into his pocket. Once he got close enough, he stretched his fingers as much as he could until he felt the handle of his knife. He celebrated quietly as he managed to pull the knife out of his pocket and tighten his grip around it

He lifted the blade up to the rope and sliced through it, taking a bit of skin off of his finger in the process since he couldn’t angle it well. He cursed under his breath, pressing his hand to his shirt to try to soak up the blood as he stood up.

Standing up wasn’t a very pleasant endeavor. He could feel his entire body protesting while he stretched up, his abdomen especially aching from where Morrighan’s boot had smashed it. He leaned against the table next to him as he tried to breathe normally again. He needed a way out, preferably an easy one so he didn’t have to run. He wasn’t sure he would even be able to run in his current condition.

He couldn’t exit through the front of the tent or he would be caught within seconds. Instead, he took his knife and cut a slit through the back of the tent, and poked his head out to check for anyone walking by. Luckily, the sun had gone down so the darkness would aid in his escape. He kept his head low, making his way away as quickly as he could without drawing attention. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he would figure it out after he got away.

There were tents set up all around him. He assumed it was so Morrighan and his crew could leave in a hurry if need be. They didn’t seem like the type to stay in one place for long, so they took their base with them wherever they went. Not a bad strategy, given that criminal groups like that were on the run constantly.

As soon as Flynn got far enough away from their campsite that he was confident they wouldn’t be able to see him anymore, he dropped to his knees and took a struggled breath. The numbness in his face was starting to fade away, meaning he could feel the stinging all over it. He spat out more blood onto the ground, then stomped it away with his foot to mix it into the mud so no one could track it. He ripped part of the sleeve off his shirt to soak up some of the blood that was still dripping out of his nose.

He considered just falling asleep right there on the ground. He knew it was too close to the people he had just run away from, but he didn’t have the energy to go any farther. He found a nice bush that would probably be enough to hide him, and he curled up and shut his eyes, trying to let his body relax.

He hoped they wouldn’t look for Lance after they realized he had gotten away. Lance really was the only person in the world he cared about, and he would never forgive himself if anything happened.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He cared about Lance, and that care was putting him in danger. That’s what happens when you care about people: they get hurt because of you. Maybe it’s better to just not care about people in the first place. Being close to people would drag them into all his messes. Lance did nothing wrong (well, not to Morrighan, at least), but would still be targeted just because Flynn cared about him.

Was it worth it?

The next morning, Flynn woke up feeling at least slightly better. The pain all over his body had turned into a consistent buzz instead of a throbbing pain, which was an improvement. He continued his trek away, though he still didn’t know where he was. Currently, his brilliant plan was to wander around until he found something familiar then go from there.

After about 10 minutes of walking, he started to recognize his surroundings. On the bright side, he knew where he was now. Unfortunately, “where he was” was hours from where he had been. He had to hand it to his kidnappers, though. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten knocked out, but it did the trick if they were able to take him all the way to the other side of the forest without him waking up.

He sighed and continued his sad and stumbly journey back. Everything in his body ached when he moved, but the alternative option was to sit out in the open and get re-kidnapped (and probably killed).

Hours of tired trudging later, he finally arrived at where he and Lance had set up their own temporary shelter. He looked at it sadly. It was good for what it was, but it still wasn’t much. Just a couple of makeshift beds by a campfire, with trees to cover them in case the weather wasn’t on their side. He didn’t have a lot to compare it to, he hadn’t had an actual bed in years. A place to stay where he wasn’t constantly in danger of being kidnapped and beaten would be nice, but clearly that was too much to ask for.

He sighed and sat down, leaning against a tree. He planned on just resting his eyes for a few seconds, but he was awoken hours later to a familiar figure standing over him.

“Damn, what happened to you?” Lance asked teasingly, though there was worry plaguing his face. Flynn gave an attempt at a smile.

“You should see the other guy.”

Lance didn’t seem satisfied with this answer, but he shook his head and moved on nonetheless. “You’re never gonna believe this job I found, there’s a vault filled with treasure that we could get into after you’re all healed up,” he said proudly.

Flynn felt his stomach shift. “Ya know, maybe you would be able to do that job better if you did it by yourself,” he said as casually as he could. “Plus, you wouldn’t have to split the bounty, right?”

His eyes shifted to the ground so he didn’t have to see the look his oldest (and only) friend was giving him. He mostly seemed confused with a hint of upset, so Flynn continued. “I mean, we’ve been in the ‘partners in crime’ business for years now, but maybe it’s time to split up? I think we both work better as separate ‘Lone Wolves,’ right?”

Lance didn’t answer for a moment. “Hey man, you don’t need to start trying to spare my feelings. Just tell me that you don’t want to be partners anymore, I understand,” he said with a slight laugh, trying to hide his crestfallen expression.

Flynn cleared his throat. “Yeah, I just think it’d be better for both of us if we went our separate ways, you know?”

Flynn was being as insistent as he could without drawing suspicion. As much as he didn’t want to leave Lance, he also didn’t want to watch his broth-- his friend get killed.

“Well, uh, it’s been a wild run, buddy. See you in another life,” Lance said, patting Flynn on the shoulder.

It was a very underwhelming goodbye. They were both trying to act like it didn’t bother them at all; they never really did the whole “emotional” thing, and they weren’t going to start now. But the two of them had been best friends and partners in crime for as long as they could remember. Flynn couldn’t help but feel like he was losing a part of himself now that they were going their separate ways.

He was still trying to think of a last-minute plan that would let him keep Lance out of his problems while still being his friend, but was still coming up empty. This was the only way to make sure he would be safe, even if it hurt.

He left his last friend behind. It was probably better this way. If he didn’t have anyone near him, then no one could get hurt. It’s a foolproof plan! He would handle himself now, and only himself. If he was in a mess, it was his mess. He wasn’t accountable for anyone else.

But as soon as he was sure he was alone, he broke down. He closed his eyes to stop the tears that were threatening to spring out. He wouldn’t cry. He was stronger than that. He hadn’t cried in years, and there was no reason he should now.

It felt like all the wounds he had been ignoring decided to start hurting ten times worse, andh he felt more defeated than he ever had before. All he knew was that he was going to have to get used to this loneliness. He had dug his own grave and now he had to lie in it; he was going to be alone forever.

(chapter 2)

#fanfic #tangled #tangled the series #eugene fitzherbert #lance strongbow #eugene #lance #my writing

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willowistic22 · 3 years

Note

Hey :)

For your post concerning Ikeshot - would you maybe consider writing an Ikeshot Soulmate AU during the canon era?

Thanks in advance

left this in my drafts for the whole month bcs i was doing no content november which was definitely not used as an excuse of me not wanting to fight off my writers block heheheheheheheh spoiler alert : it was. but i got around to write this one so i hope it suffice! i mean i hope so bcs it ended up being 2.5k words long lol!

So pls enjoy my canon era ikeshot soulmate au! the concept is where soulmate marks are in the form of the first things your soulmate says to you when you guys meet. also ik this will kinda flop since it’s a rarepair but pls do your best to not let it flop :)

Ike doesn’t like the thought of soulmates. Not one bit. Well, at first he liked the idea of having someone out there waiting for him. He doesn’t need a mark of any kind to tell him that. He knows it on his own terms. But there was a little bit of excitement that exploded in his stomach when his soulmate mark appeared on his forearm. And it was… weird to say the least.

He got his mark a year earlier than his twin brother, right on their 13th birthday. A delicate black writing engraved in the skin of his forearm. The soulmate mark stories he has ever heard were about people with sweet sayings engraved in their skin. It was all romantic, innocent, and soft spoken words tread lightly by the lips of their lover to be. But Ike’s? It was downright strange. None of those sappy and sweet stuff people say when the subject is about soulmates. Which is why Ike never bothered showing it off. He has heard enough jokes from Mike about that text.

And here’s the kicker for his situation: despite getting his soulmate mark a year earlier, Mike was somehow granted the gift of getting a sweet soulmate line and meeting his soulmate first! That really pissed Ike off.

He’s left with his thoughts on that subject this evening, carefully holding up his forearm while he lies on the top bunk he and his brother call their own. The words on his forearm echoes inside of his brain as he strokes the ink on his skin, blocking out the loud Lower Manhattan lodging house. He’s bound to meet his soulmate eventually. He’s sixteen for crying out loud! Mike met his when they were fifteen. So this mysterious soulmate of his has to turn up any time now. They have to. Ike doesn’t know how much longer he can keep himself entertained with stringless flings and flirtings with random guys in secret.

Ike sighs desperately, dropping both his arms above his head and onto his thin pillow. He wished he was tired enough to go to sleep already since he doesn’t have anything to do before the lights go out in the lodge. He peaks down towards the lower bunk. Ike sees his brother fast asleep, cuddled into his lover’s embrace. Two chests, rising and falling at their own different slow pace.

It’s not that Ike ever had a problem with Mike’s soulmate, the only problem is that Ike hasn’t met his and constantly feels lonely with the presence of the couple. Ike didn’t believe his brother when he said his soulmate turned out to be Jo Jo. Not only is Jo Jo practically a total opposite of Mike, Jo Jo is also out of his league. There’s no way a kind hearted, properly brought up, bright smiled boy would end up with a scruffy idiot like his brother. But the more time he spends with the two, the more he sees how compatible they are with each other.

Ike is happy that they found someone to make each other happy, even in their sleep. He’s just sad for himself that he hasn’t found the one for him yet. Third wheeling is the worst thing Ike has ever discovered in his life.

He sits back up properly, letting both legs dangle freely down the bunk. Ike puts on his newsie cap and his vest that was left hanging on the bedpost before jumping down the bunk.

Unfortunately he wasn’t being careful and accidentally woke someone below him from the loud thud his feet made when it came in contact with the old wooden floor of the lodge.

“Where are you… going?” a voice groaned.

Ike turns his head towards the lower bunk to see Mike lifting his head up slightly from where it was resting, rubbing his eyes a little bit to enhance his vision. He’d sit up straight, but one of his hands is strapped down to the mattress by a certain head full of brown curls.

“Not tired yet. Think I’ll get myself busy” Ike replied. Before turning back to his original direction, he catches his brother’s eyes before he lets himself fall back asleep again, “Got a pack?”

Mike snorts to himself with an eye roll, but it ends with a low chuckle. He gestures his head towards his vest left hanging up high on the bedpost, “Check my vest. I’se think there’s still half in there”

Untangling the vest from itself, Ike sees one of its pockets forming a rectangular shape through the fabric. He slips his hand in it and fishes out a pack of cigarettes. His hand doesn’t feel the usual light weight of the tiny box he usually feels after getting himself a fresh pack. This one feels so much lighter, like there’s a lot of room in it. But Ike could still feel a few stems moving inside.

“Don’t finish the whole thing” Mike added.

Ike simply smirks down at him, turning around with the pack in hand. He calls out, “No promises!”

“Pay me back if you do finish it!”

“Also no promises!”

“Little shitter”

Ike turns his head around, and an offended look on his face as the twins’ old inside joke has resurfaced from the past. In the calmest way possible, yet still obviously annoyed, Ike voices out, “Fuck off, alright?”

“No promises!”

Mike laughs at his brother’s obvious annoyance. At the same time, Jo Jo starts to stir in his sleep. He stops laughing, directing his full focus on the boy shifting in his arms. Jo Jo groans as he flips to face away from Mike, letting out a long and peaceful sigh once he gets comfortable.

Ike watches as his brother lays back down, holding Jo Jo a little tighter than before. The couple is enveloped back by their slumber just like before.

There’s that jealousy resurfacing in Ike’s heart as his eyes linger at the sight of the lower bunk. But despite it, he is actually happy to see Mike like this. Being happy with his soulmate doing whatever. It’s a different kind of happy. It’s the kind that Ike longs for.

He pushes that thought away for a while, walking through the loud lodging house. Some newsies went to sleep earlier, somehow being able to ignore all the commotion caused by their friends. Some are also just hanging out with others while they wait for the lights to go out.

Ike chooses to be alone this evening. Accompanied by a cigarette or two, and maybe his own thoughts he’d like to sort out. He’d walk out the front door downstairs to smoke in an alleyway, but he knows the downstairs are currently occupied. Jack had warned everyone to avoid going downstairs because the borough leaders are having a little meeting.

So Ike decides on the fire escape, since it already leads directly to the alleyway. Ike slips out the window, instantly noticing the lovely evening air. His only view is a dull brick wall with trash scattered around the ground, but he doesn’t really mind as the street ambience makes him feel less lonely.

He notes the fire escape being a little wet, since it previously did rain a bit. He nearly slipped when he first stepped on the metal bars, but was able to balance himself pretty quickly.

But to no avail, his feet clumsily slips away from their grip on the fire escape. It sends him falling down with a loud yelp, passing through the little gap in the fencing reserved for the ladder and onto the concrete floor in the dirty alleyway.

Ike was disoriented when he rose back up from his fall. One hand on the ground to help support his back as he recovers from the impact, and the other rubbing the pain on his head away. He realized the pack of cigarettes is long gone. What he doesn’t realize is why the fall isn’t as painful as he thought it would be.

He glances over to his legs, which he realized just now that it was tangled with something else. Someone else. They were groaning in pain as they rose back up. He catches a glimpse of the face once it was finally lifted off the ground, smudge by a little bit of mud.

Oh shit.

Ike fell on another boy who obviously looks like he’s twice his own size. Not that he thinks he can’t take him on in a fight if he asks for one, but right now he’s too disoriented to even figure out how to punch straight. He quickly gets up on his feet, giving the stranger some space so he can recollect himself.

“Oh look, the universe has thrown me a little shitter from the sky to ruin the rest of my already shitty day! Is there anything you can possibly do to magically make it better?!”

The words were uttered as the stranger got back up on his feet, revealing himself to be a tall and muscled figure. The mud also got on a little strand of his dark brown hair and his eyes were squinted with fury. But Ike wasn’t focused on any physical features this stranger has. He’s more focused with the words that he uttered. Words that Ike knows by heart by now.

“What?” The stranger growled, deep and raspy. He realized the boy was astonished by something, but was certain it isn’t in any form of fear.

“Do you have any idea how much shit I get with that written on my hand?! It made me look like I’m a fuckin’ dumbass my whole life!” Ike started his little rant, a little bit of rage building up from the pits of his stomach, “Oh, but of course I’se stuck with a huge asshole that doesn’t know how to be a decent human being and give a guy a break!”

The stranger stays completely still, lips slightly parted.

“How do you think I feel with that?”

He shows his soulmate mark on his right forearm to Ike. A smaller font size and a longer paragraph written on his skin. Ike almost wanted to laugh.

“Hey!”

The two boys turn their attention towards the sound. Just outside the alleyway, right on the sidewalk where the rest of the world is, three tall men stood. There isn’t enough light for either boys to identify who they are, but given from the vague shadow they can sense trouble.

As the three men take a few steps closer, letting a little lamp stuck to the wall illuminate their figures, they reveal themselves as the bulls.

The boys activated their flight instinct, running towards the other end of the alleyway. The bulls chased after them while telling them to stop. Ike, being the smaller one, runs ahead and leads the chase. Hopping from one sidewalk to the other, crossing the roads without looking.

Jacobi’s deli came into view in the corner of the block, despite being unlit. Ike kept running towards that corner and took a sharp turn. He makes another sharp turn towards an alley, just next to the deli. He hides in a little corner the deli has created. He has gotten away from so many troubles by hiding in this ‘wall bump’ because people miss it easily.

He was surprised to see a large figure stopping right next to where Ike was hiding, huffing out heavy breaths of exhaustion. Ike said nothing at first, thinking it’s one of the bulls. He simply watches the figure hunching over their knees, trying to recollect themselves from the chase.

But after a few seconds, he realizes it was the same boy he just met at the alleyway. His soulmate. To that, he widens his eyes and gasps under his breath.

Oh crap, if he keeps on standin’ there we’ll get caught!

“Hey!” Ike whisper shouted.

The boy was still disoriented from all that running, but he was still able to pick up the voice.

He saw Ike hiding in the corner, but didn’t think much of it. To that, the smaller boy just rolled his eyes and grabbed him by his suspenders to pull him to the little corner to hide together.

Ike peaked behind the little wall hiding them to see if the bulls that were chasing them had passed. Just as he suspected, they were clueless as to where they could be. The bulls went past the alleyway. Until Ike was sure that they’re gone, he lets out a relieved sigh and turns back to where he is.

He was surprised to be met by a chest, but soon remembered that he had another boy hiding with him. A very tall one.

Ike looks up to his face. The details are much clearer now. Brown locks, strong jawline, brown eyes, ivory tinted face with a few smudges of ash and dirt. The face sculptured... so perfectly.

Ike only realized this now. Staring up at it, taking in every detail before him. Cheeks a little heated up when his head realizes how close they’re being. Chest to chest and Ike is up against a wall.

And the other boy… he stared back. Just as frozen and shocked as he is.

“I-I didn’t catch your name earlier” Ike mustered up the last bit of concentration to get that out.

“My friends call me Hotshot”

“Hotshot…” Ike repeated, nodding along without getting his eyes off of him.

“But… you can call me Tyler. Y-y’know if you… wanna use my real name” Hotshot said with a little awkward cough at the end.

“Oh…”

Ike has no idea what’s happening right now. All he knows is there’s a cute guy right in front of his nose, who is his so called soulmate. They’re hiding in an alleyway, and neither seems to want to move away. They were both caught off guard by the beauty their eyes are being presented with in front of them.

“I-I’m Ike, by the way…” Ike added on, realizing he hasn’t said his name yet, “It’s short for Isaac. Y’know, ‘cause my twin brother calls himself Mike and we wanted to-- y’know what? That’s too long to get into…”

The two share a heartfelt laughter. Their hearts pumping faster than before, the other being able to feel it right through their chest.

“So uhh… Ike…” Hotshot started, still staring down at the smaller boy, “About what I said earlier…”

Ike started to laugh, remembering what he meant.

“I’s want to apologize… is all”

“Y-yeah, the same goes for me!” Ike added, “Well, I don’t know if we should even apologize. We were supposed to say that to each other anyways!”

Another heartfelt laughter, sounding softer than the first one. It somehow made the moment even more serious as it slowly died down. Their gaze hasn’t left the other’s. Nor, does it seem like they want to in the first place.

“Ike, can I… try somethin’?” Hotshot suddenly asked.

Ike simply nods, not having any clue as to what he meant. The message behind that was soon cleared the moment Hotshot softly crashed his lips against his, pushing his head backwards and gently pinning it to the wall behind him. Ike moves his hands up to pull him by his suspenders. Hotshot brushes his finger on his jaw, angling him up for a better kiss. Their lips moved in sync perfectly and it felt good. Just like how they would picture a first kiss shared by a soulmate.

#newsies #drabble requests #ikeshot #ikeshot newsies #ike newsies #hotshot newsies #tw cursing #tw smoking #tw implied violence #tw light injury

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kenzichi · 3 years

Text

Summary: Riku gets an unexpected visit from Roxas. Post KH3.

Note: Totally self indulgent. Don’t mind it too much lol.

Riku pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes were burning from lack of sleep. His appearance probably didn’t look like much either. He needed to get off the database. He took one more look at the Sora in the computer screen before he stood up and hastily removed his jacket. He threw it onto the stool and walked outside Merlin’s house.

But once he did he had no idea what he wanted to do. His eyes stung at the morning- morning? -Midday sun. There was no one walking along the streets which was usual for this time of day. Maybe Leon and the others were visiting Kairi? He needed to do that soon.

"Hey." Came an unexpected greeting followed by footsteps. He turned to see Roxas walking towards him. Wait-

"R-Roxas!" It had been months since Riku had last seen him. Since the final battle over half a year ago in fact. "What are you doing here?" Roxas had never been to Radiant Garden as far as he knew. And he had no connection with anyone here so for him to be here...

"I came to check up on you." Roxas smiled, hands in his pockets.

"Me?" Riku was taken aback. Roxas certainly didn't seem like he was the type to pay friendly visits and they weren’t friends even if they didn't hold a grudge against each other.

"Yup." Roxas replied with a smile that worried Riku for some reason. "Let's fight!"

"What?"

"You heard me." Roxas stepped closer until he was a few feet away from him.

"Why would I-?"

"You owe me a fair, finished fight. Last time you turned into that man. A cheap trick to win." Roxas glared up at him.

Riku subconsciously gripped his wrist that Roxas had injured in that very fight. Riku had thought this was all in the past. But looking at Roxas it seemed he still wasn't quite over it.

"I want to fight you for real this time." Roxas summoned his Kingdom Key without breaking eye contact. "Real ‘till the end!" He announced. Riku had no time to protest before he had to summon his own keyblade to block Roxas swinging down from straight above. The impact sent Riku sliding backwards on the stone pavement.

"Roxas!" Riku yelled angrily. What the hell? That hit would have been really bad! Is he being serious?

The impact of the hit sent a stinging aftershock through Riku’s legs straight to his ankles. He winced and fell onto one knee.

I... I know I haven't been training much, but...

Roxas scoffed, "Are you serious? Have you just been fooling around since Sora disappeared?"

"Of course not!"

"Prove it then." Roxas replied sourly. He broke into a run. "Come at me!"

Just as Roxas had reached him, Riku sprinted under Roxas’ swing as if to run, but as soon as he was right behind him he halted suddenly, spun around and swung his keyblade towards his opponent. But Roxas turned around just as fast and blocked his attack.

Roxas smiled, "Ahh, there's the Riku I remember! Give me a good fight, alright!" They pushed each other back with their blades and put some distance between themselves.

"I don't have time for this." Riku practically hissed. Not while Sora is still out there. We’re wasting time!

"You have time." Roxas retorted. "By the looks of you, this will be over real quick."

Riku narrowed his eyes, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Roxas leaped towards Riku to close the gap between them. With both hands he swung towards Riku’s left side, but Riku blocked. Roxas swung again in the same spot, harder this time. "Exactly how it sounds!" Roxas lunged forward and slammed his shoulder into Riku’s chest, knocking him backwards. Riku stumbled wide eyed.

"What happened to the strongest kid on the islands? Keyblade Master Riku?" Before Riku could regain his balance, Roxas started an excessive chain of swings that Riku couldn’t help, but block helplessly against.

Riku felt cornered. Roxas wasn't giving him any chance to counter. All he could do was make sure Roxas didn’t run him into a dead end.

Roxas’ blows started to slow down just slightly, but enough for a seasoned fighter like Riku to notice. He’s getting tired... "Brings you back to the islands, huh? Just like old times, right?" Roxas said in between breaths.

Huh? Why would he bring up the islands?

Just as Riku thought that, Roxas took a big gasp before going in for another swing. Now! Riku quickly cast a single thunder bolt to strike between them.

Roxas jumped backwards before the attack could hit. Riku let out a heavy breath, relieved they were no longer so close.

Roxas chuckled at the exchange they just had. What’s with him? Was he making fun of him?

Riku clinched his teeth. That magic attack seemed like nothing, but it was more to get him off his back than to cause injury. And he felt like Roxas knew that too. That’s why he had that irritating smirk on his face.

Roxas lifted his keyblade into the air and cast firaga. A plethora of fireballs came flying towards them.

Riku gasped. He couldn't dodge. They were surrounded by buildings. Not to mention Merlin’s house with their only clue to finding Sora in a long time. Quickly, Riku ran in front of Merlin’s house and managed to produce a larger dark barrier than usual and deflected as many fireballs as he could back at Roxas. Without missing a beat, Riku released dark barrier and cast waterza on the fires that were quickly building up around them.

Riku let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Through the smoke he saw Roxas standing on the other side of the walk area, waiting patiently for him.

Riku steadied his breath before clinching his fists. "Are you an idiot?! People live here! Don't throw reckless magic around!"

"This is a real fight remember?" Roxas replied. "If you don't like it, stop me."

Riku had had it. He charged at Roxas so fast he was only a flash of dark energy. Roxas had no idea he had this ability. He certainly didn’t have it in The World That Never Was. Before he could react, Riku appeared before him, grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him to the ground. He knelt down on Roxas’ weapon-wielding hand, causing his grip to loosen and his keyblade to disappear. Riku slammed the end of his Braveheart into the ground next to Roxas’ head. "That's enough. Playtime is over."

“But we were just getting warmed up!" Roxas chuckled.

"Stop screwing around!" Riku yelled, clinching the boy's shirt tighter. He was straddling him and with his arm pinned down Roxas couldn’t move.

"Would you treat Sora like this too?" Riku paused. "On the islands," Roxas continued. "is this how you were when you fought with Sora?" There was no underlying playfulness to his words this time.

Why is he bringing up Sora? And the islands? No. This was nothing like that. Even when Riku was mad he still enjoyed his sword fights with Sora. Even when he was clouded by jealousy; he just wanted to be close to him. But right now Roxas was just pissing him off. "Why do you keep bringing weird things up?" Riku demanded.

With his free hand, Roxas gripped the fists that were holding him by the collar. "Kiss me."

Riku froze.

"You miss Sora don't you? It’s obvious to everyone. And sad, really. Even I’m starting to pity you."

"What are you saying?" What does he mean ‘everyone’? "You don't know anything." I'm fine. I'm the same as usual. Did someone put him up to this?

"So much so that you shut yourself away from everyone for 2 months."

But... I haven’t. Right? I’ve done plenty these past few months... Riku quickly thought back to his current day to day life. He would wake up, check the database, eat (maybe), run scans on the database, check on Kairi at the castle, train for an hour... maybe less, go back to check the database...

"We know about the computer in there. You unlocked everything you could on that thing and there are still no answers. So why are you still always on it?"

Riku looked away. "There could still be a clue." He answered quietly. He did truly believe that, but he also couldn’t deny just seeing Sora’s image on the screen comforted him. "Anyway, it doesn’t concern you. You do things your way on your end and I’ll do the same-"

Roxas sat up on his elbow, "It does concern me! Sora wouldn't want you to spend your days staring at a computer!"

"I'm fine. I don't need your twisted help." Riku let go of Roxas' collar and started to stand, but Roxas kept his grip on Riku’s wrists, keeping him close.

"But I look like him don't I? Remind you of him?" He pulled Riku so close their bodies were touching. Riku could feel Roxas’ body heat through their sweaty clothes. He felt a knot form in his throat. "I don't think Sora would mind. Not if it was to help you."

"Stop." Riku lowered his head. Despite them being so different, Roxas was still Sora’s nobody and they almost looked exactly the same. Their builds were strikingly similar. Not to mention their eyes. Riku squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed they were even having this conversation. Ashamed he was actually feeling something. Did everyone feel this much pity towards him? Was he really that miserable looking?

Roxas grabbed Riku’s shirt, and pulled him closer. "Look at me." He said as softly as he could. Eventually, Riku did. He saw Riku’s eyes for the first time that day. Tired and sad. Eyes that hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. "I know you want to. So kiss me."

Of course he wanted to! Or rather, of course he wanted to, with Sora! To touch him and kiss him. Somehow, now that he knew his true feelings for Sora, it only made it harder for Riku to be away from him.

"Kiss me like you would Sora." Roxas ran a hand through Riku’s hair, "Touch me like you would Sora." He wrapped his arms around Riku’s neck, "He wouldn’t want you to suffer like this anymore."

He wouldn’t, huh?

Every night he’d dream of a city with towering buildings. Shining signs and bustling roads. And every day he’d imagine Sora next to him, talking to him, like a curse.

Every day, since having those dreams of the city, Sora would lean into him when they talked. Lay a gentle hand on his shoulder whenever he laughed. He’d smile up at him and say his name. He’d pout when he lost at a game of Rock Paper Scissors to decide who got to take a bath first. But then Riku would be forgiven when he let Sora have the last piece of meat for dinner.

When Riku was settling in for the night it was only a matter of minutes before Sora came to his room. Sora would lay down onto his bed before he even had the chance to. Riku would caress Sora’s spiky brown hair he loved so much.

And Sora would laugh.

He’d wrap his arms around Riku’s waist and nuzzle close to him. They would talk about their day of training even though they had just spent the whole day training, together. Sora would fall asleep telling his stories and only then would Riku kiss him good night because that was the only time he was brave enough to do it. But Sora wouldn’t be asleep. And he’d demand Riku kiss him again. And again and again. And each kiss would be less nerve wrecking than the last. Riku would fall asleep feeling Sora’s warm skin and soft lips. And his slim frame that fit so perfectly against his muscular one. And he would wake up the next day and realize it was all a dream, or an illusion, or whatever the hell it was.

And it would start all over again.

So when Riku actually felt a warm (real), gentle hand run through his hair... Soft, slender fingers against his neck, he was so tempted. Oh so tempted. And for a flicker of a second he did see Sora’s face in Roxas. Riku gently let his fingertips brush away the strands of blond bangs on Roxas’ forehead. He wanted to imagine they were Sora’s messy brown ones. Imagine his flushed cheeks were Sora’s, bright and pink. His eyes were the exact same blue as Sora’s it almost scared him. Riku clinched his fist on the pavement.

But Roxas was not Sora no matter how much they looked alike.

"No." Riku finally replied. "You’re not a replacement for Sora. And you know that better than anyone. Sora... He told you that." Riku said, eyebrows furrowed.

Roxas stared at him for a bit before closing his eyes, sighing. "He did... didn’t he..." His grip around Riku’s neck loosened, but he didn’t completely let him go.

"You and Sora. Even if I tried... I could never mistake you. You, who’s so quick to anger." He smiled genuinely, the hand playing in Roxas’ hair now on his cheek. "You, Roxas, with the sharp tongue and the presence so strong an enemy would shutter as soon as you entered the area." Roxas’ eyes widened. "Whereas-"

"Whereas, Sora," Roxas continued, "is the one who would brighten up any room as soon as he entered it." He smiled small. "And Sora, who could never say a bad thing about anyone no matter how much they deserved it."

Riku nodded, “Yeah.”

Roxas felt so stupid, but relieved. Roxas stiffened under Riku, suddenly feeling self conscious at their positions. He let his hands fall from Riku’s shoulders to his chest. "Yeah..." He whispered.

......................

"If we had gone through with it, would you have hated it?" Roxas looked up from the half empty glass of water in his hands. He hadn't realized he had zoned out. The little lamp on Merlin's table stung his eyes. Had he dozed off? The tall, red chair at Merlin’s table was cozier than it looked.

Roxas looked across the room. Riku was on that damn computer again, staring intently at the screen. "Sorry... What did you say?" Roxas asked.

Riku let out a long sigh, "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

Roxas groggily looked back down at his hands. The hands he used to touch Riku. The hand he used to caress Riku’s hair.

Back when he had dreams about Sora, Roxas recalled Sora always looking at Riku. He always admired his height, his strength, and his long, silver hair. The silver hair Sora secretly longed to touch...

Roxas closed his eyes.

I’m sorry, Sora.

If they had gone further, would he have liked it? His feelings for Riku, Sora’s feelings for Riku, weld up in his stomach. Even though I’m not Sora... Sora’s memories, Sora’s feelings for Riku were still imbedded in his heart. So had Riku desired it, he would have kept going.

Roxas’ chest tightened.

He was a terrible person.

"I know you want to. So kiss me... Like you would Sora." Roxas ran a hand through Riku’s hair, "Touch me like you would Sora."

Riku clinched his teeth before leaning in and kissing the blond on the lips. And Roxas parted his lips instantly, welcoming Riku’s touch.

#kingdom hearts #fanfic #fanfiction #roxas #riku #kingdom hearts 3

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radramblog · 3 years

Text

Radiohead Retrospective Part 8: Slowly we unfurl

Last week I compared The King of Limbs to Kid A, a reference I find completely natural. Both albums use significant electronic and ambient instrumentation, especially compared to the albums preceding them, and both feature stark, surreal imagery and lyricism. Kid A is a response to the band’s discomfort at getting huge, while The King of Limbs is a response to them deliberately getting much smaller after cutting ties with EMI/Parlophone.

I’m also pretty sure that comparison really pisses off a bunch of people who really like Kid A and really don’t care for The King of Limbs. And they’re entitled to their opinion, but they’re wrong. Album’s great.

Aside from potentially the spookiest cover of any Radiohead album, TKOL as it’s so abbreviated happens to be the shortest Radiohead album, clocking in at 8 songs and under 38 minutes (for reference, the longest one is Hail to the Thief at 14 songs/~57 minutes). It does not, however, seek to be wasting any of those minutes, despite the often looping nature of its songs, each drizzled in enough Stuff Going On that it feels much deeper than that short timeframe makes it seem.

That, or I just get lost in the groove.

While the comparison to Kid A is probably getting a bit old at this point, I think I’d like to reiterate it by comparing the opening seconds of Everything in its Right Place to that of TKOL’s opener, Bloom. EIIRP opens with this ultimately simple electronic line that feels cold and robotic, and while Bloom’s opening moments are still obviously electronic, they’re clearly made of something more lifelike. And by that, I mean it sounds a lot like a heavily edited, chopped, and looped piano line, one that folds itself into the very genuine percussion loops that follow. It’s a difference of tone, this life against the coldness of silica, even though the two are obviously both computer-made.

I don’t think Bloom truly comes into its own until that bassline comes in. Fortunately, it only takes like a minute for that to happen, with the incredibly ethereal and reverb-y vocals soon to follow. The bass is ultimately incredibly simple, but it adds such a grounding to the other instrumentation, those rapid, looping, high-pitched tracks that go on and on et cetera. And then you get about a two-thirds of the way in and the brass and strings come in that I had entirely forgotten about, but are so pretty, during the bridge (?), it’s genuinely quite lovely.

I wouldn’t call Bloom a banger, because it’s not that type of song. But at the same time, Bloom is a banger, basically.

By comparison, Morning Mr Magpie feels much more organic, in that more of the instrumentation being looped is acoustic/”real”. There’s a very delicate and deliberate guitar strum that the song is built around, with a similar but looser bassline meandering around in the background as it goes. MMM is much more built around the vocals than Bloom was (apparently the bass and vocals were the last things to be added to that track), more concrete images developed, and an actual verse/chorus/verse/chorus structure which feels a little strange on an album like this.

The instrumentation on this track feels anxious, the guitar and percussion reminding me of drumming my fingers on the table in impatience or nerves, but it’s so uncomfortable that it can’t get it perfectly rhythmic.

And frankly, this song does make me uncomfortable. You see, magpies in the UK have an association with thievery, collecting, and having an eye for shiny things. In Australia, magpies are associated with pecking people’s eyeballs out. So there’s a bit of a disconnect between countries and species is what I’m saying.

At some point I had decided that Little by Little was my favourite song on TKOL, and while I can’t really justify that, but I will (for now) stand by it. It’s got some excellent instrumentation- jingly background loops sounding like a machine, or even a bicycle, giving the track a sense of motion. Meanwhile, the bass is just absolutely killer, somehow both intricate and simple-sounding, notes that sound almost the same but aren’t quite. The lyrics are nursery-esque, with rhyming pairs and idioms aplenty. “Little by little by hook or by crook/I’m such a tease and you’re such a flirt” is a really fun couple of lines, even if they really don’t have the same meaning outside of context as they do inside.

Every time I think I’ve heard everything there is to hear in this song, there’s more to surprise me. The different guitar lines, the background noises, rising instrumental and sinking vocals. Underrated, methinks.

Track 4 is the shortest song of the shortest album, Feral. Not so much lyrics in this, as snippets of heavily edited vocalisations- they might say something, but you’re sure as hell not going to figure that out listening to it. The song is heavily percussion-driven, to the point where there are long spans of it where the looping drums are the only instrumentation actually present. More electronic white noise comes in later, getting louder and harsher, as the vocal snippets increase in frequency and variability, but there’s always those drums, keeping on keeping on.

Feral is kind of in an odd spot, frankly, because it is one of hose tracks that’s fine, it’s good¸ but I genuinely cannot imagine being in the mood to listen to it. It’s tightly wound, almost stressful, but what little is added on doesn’t especially cater to that mood. I think there’s some comparison to be made to The Gloaming, of all things, though I think I like that track better than this one.

youtube

The one single from the album is Lotus Flower, and if you haven’t watched that music video…fucking, do it? Thom is just iconic in this one, channeling memetic levels of weirdo-dance. Lotus Flower makes the best choice for single on this record, being both the most past-Radiohead-y, and the most traditional song-y track on the record, somehow. Thom’s falsetto is at its peak here, utterly gorgeous in performance and presentation, with loops on some of the held notes that in some cases only just reveal themselves as artificial.

This is not to discredit the instrumental, with the best Radiohead use of handclaps since 15 Step (to my knowledge, the previous iteration of this), an electronic instrumental that would probably make a much sadder song were it not for the vocals and the groovy bassline. Seriously, the bass makes this piece genuinely danceable, it’s incredible.

…man, look at him go.

Every time I hear Codex I think it’s the last song on the album, and I always have to remind myself, no, it’s not that short, come on. This slow, sad, piano ballad (?) echoes previous album closers while still feeling incredibly TKOL, its piano being reminiscent of Videotape, brass coming in like Life in a Glasshouse, and utterly down vocals akin to any number of Radiohead’s finest. Some of the lyrics are actually very reminiscent of Pyramid Song, imagery of, well, jumping into bodies of water, but as that track’s river was full of tragedy and memory, Codex’s clear lake is, apparently, clear and innocent.

I was thinking about that album-closer comment before I heard the section of the track that comes in at 3:35, with wavering strings that feel incredibly like Kid A, like Motion Picture Soundtrack and How to Disappear Completely.

I should probably stop comparing Codex to other Radiohead songs, though. It does stand on its own without those, a beautiful, melancholic song. It is incredibly chill, muted even, the kind of song to float in the water to, staring up at the stars. It’s down, but it’s not in pain, if that makes sense? Like, the vibe I get from it is of acceptance, and of moving past what’s holding one down- something you repeat in your head while you’re deep in the shit.

Wait that’s just How to Disappear Completely again, fuck.

Moving on, Give up the Ghost opens with, of all things, birdsongs. It’s actually an acoustic guitar ballad to pair with Codex’s piano ballad, multiple iterations of the instrument layered over each other in a natural but artificial soundscape. The vocals do the same, with the lead harmonising with a backing refrain of “don’t haunt me” to give this relatively gentle track a sense of desperation, almost (I’ve seen it written as “don’t hurt me” in some places but…come on, listen to it, also it is Give up the Ghost after all).

Give up the Ghost is another very chill track that you can just lean into and relax by. Even as it gets more complex and layered as it goes, with another background vocal layer edited in the background steadily getting fuzzed and less comprehendible, the song doesn’t stop being what it is. That acoustic line doesn’t stop vibing, the tempo doesn’t pick up, it is more than content to stay right where it is. And it’s a comfortable stop.

The album’s final track is Separator, and it is frankly one that I always forget. Despite being the actual track closer (sorry again, Codex), it doesn’t have that impact that tracks like Street Spirit (Fade Out) or A Wolf at the Door do. Ironically, this might make it the most fitting closer for The King of Limbs, considering the largely relaxed, ambient nature of the album.

There isn’t honestly that much to divulge about Separator that you wouldn’t have guessed from the album that precedes it. It’s got looping tracks, layered vocals, and this one really satisfying electronic note that hits every couple seconds that I quite like. About halfway through, a patently lovely guitar line comes in, one of the few I can definitively think of that are relatively downtempo but that I could still describe as “bright”. With all the stuff going on at once, the song does end up a bit of a mess at times, as these different elements that have been present in different pieces of the song blend together for a bit of an echoey jumble, but it does resolve itself before long. After that, the song and album’s final minute or so is surprisingly simple, with the track effectively picking the handful of lines it wants to hang on to, one of the vocal tracks and one of the ambient effects and one of the percussion lines, and lets them run their course, the album ending on an echo of the track that once was.

That completes The King of Limbs, an album named after a tree in England, by the way. It always bugs me when I see this one near the bottom of people’s tier lists, because it really just doesn’t miss. It’s the product of a band that’s been working and experimenting for two decades, and it really shows the fruits of that labour. It’s quite the band that can put out something like Bloom immediately after an album with tracks like Bodysnatchers and Jigsaw Falling Into Place, and have both work.

The King of Limbs was the last album that came out before I got into Radiohead, so naturally, I basically didn’t listen to it for several years. I kinda went piece by piece into their discography, and I hadn’t had it as heavily recommended to me as others. But it easily stands just as tall as those other albums, even if it’s technically a little shorter.

For the record, I haven’t decided if I’m going to cover TKOL RMX 1234567 yet. It is listed next to all the rest of them on any collection of their albums, and it’s a perfectly respectable piece of Radiohead canon, and I did want to cover all the non-main-album stuff at some point. On the other hand, it is just a remix album, I’ve kinda been going through the main stuff chronologically, and also I’ve never listened to it.

So basically, we’ll see! And you’ll see, next week, whether we go straight to A Moon Shaped Pool or deviate a bit for some capitalised numerical action.

#ramble #music #radiohead #the king of limbs

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years

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Masterpost: answering a single anon in a single post

So. I wasn’t going to answer asks today but frankly, considering what I should be writing I’d rather answer asks, might actually get a laugh out of it. Most of all, because of what I intend to answer here.

To spare y’all from the pain and annoyance of having to read through any of my answers to we-know-who, I’m going to do it differently this time. All in one post. Because frankly, filling my blog with their TWENTY asks, no less (and it’s official this time, used to be sixteen but then I reblogged that post about conflict in stories and they went wild, as usual) isn’t worth anyone’s time. Hell, it’s not even worth mine, but procrastination is overpowering.

Here we go. If you’re not the anon in question and still want to read this, I hope you have fun.

This is a free world. That means multiple things some people can’t seem to accept. One such thing is that people have no obligation to even interact with each other, let alone to do what others demand of them, especially when they don’t want to. The fact is, being harassed (because, yes, there’s no other word for it) by someone has been a pretty irritating and stressful thing for me, to the point where it has impacted my ability to write...

And the harasser doesn’t give a single fuck about it and just keeps going :’)

With such introduction, I decide to engage my least favorite person in this site once again because clearly, ignoring them, blocking them, closing asks, deleting and rewriting reviews, is still not enough to get across the message that reiterating an opinion a million times doesn’t automatically make it more valid. So let’s see just what’s going on with this very much desperate person who apparently can’t stop seeking my attention:

First of all, I asked this person, point-blank, to address their asks, if they would continue sending them, to my main blog. Let’s see how that request turned out:

Oh my, astonishing! They sent it to Gladiator’s blog instead! And what a bigger shock: they’re, as usual, trying to control and direct what I write and how I write it. While sprinkling empty compliments that don’t mean a thing, such as claiming RESPECT for me and my work when every single ask they’ve sent is an outright disrespectful act against me, considering how many times I’ve requested, directly, that they stop this, and how many times they’ve ignored me. It even is extra poignant considering my request for them to send asks to my main blog instead, and yet they deliberately sent it to Gladiator’s blog. This is what RESPECT looks like, in this anon’s head. Fascinating stuff, isn’t it?

And then comes the mad onslaught that left me facedesking for days:

... I mean. Can someone please read this and tell me the person on the other side, with their vague condition, whatever it may be, has any idea what an apology even MEANS?

For someone who’s so obsessed with alleged consistency, you’re damn bad at it yourself, Anon. You can’t send four asks in a row, to the WRONG BLOG, demanding for explanations you don’t even care to read, because every single time I’ve taken your whining seriously you’ve disregarded all my responses and gone right back to the same BS as before, and THEN pretend you’re here TO APOLOGIZE.

You don’t feel any remorse. To this day, you don’t even KNOW what you did wrong. This is NOT expressing yourself: THIS IS HARASSMENT. Need me to define the word for you to understand what it means, seeing as it’s becoming abundantly clear your reading and interpretation skills are not the greatest?

Definitions of harassment:

1. (n) the act of tormenting by continued persistent attacks and criticism 2. (n) a feeling of intense annoyance caused by being tormented

I’ve said it before: PEOPLE HAVE HAD COMPLAINTS ABOUT THIS STORY, FAR MORE VALID THAN YOURS, AND I’VE NEVER REACTED THIS WAY. Care to guess why?

Because you NEVER stop. Because you keep going, constantly, never slowing down to think YOUR behavior is affecting a REAL LIFE HUMAN BEING. You’re obsessing over what happens in a fictional story that, by the way, is a fanfic, ergo, it obeys certain rules that general fiction does not. Among such rules is abiding by ORIGINAL characterization to a certain extent, and that means, hahaha, that Azula ISN’T an experienced character in any social or romantic situations because she ISN’T in canon, and there was no reason to change that, especially considering the worldbuilding I crafted, which makes it CRUCIAL for Azula to be careful with her virtue, despite she doesn’t want to be and realizes the whole notion of female virginal purity is absolute BULLSHIT.

But why am I explaining anything anyway? You won’t understand it, because you don’t want to. You claim, constantly, that you’re asking things OUT OF CURIOSITY, as if that makes ANYTHING better, when the truth is you’re just here to impose your cursed opinions on everyone else, especially me, and pretend you somehow own this fic and ship and your demands mean more than anyone else’s. Meanwhile, oh, I understand you PERFECTLY: you don’t want Sokka to ever have any experiences with any other women because you only believe in pure, untainted love of virgins who wait for each other and don’t ever make mistakes or are forced into unwanted situations. Because, again, you can’t understand that those sorts of things CAN happen. Because you don’t see there’s nuance to human beings, nuance I attempt to capture through my characters too.

I said it semi-jokingly, back in my past answers, now I say it directly: IF YOU CAN’T STOMACH THESE SITUATIONS AND CAN’T ACCEPT THEM, THIS STORY IS NOT FOR YOU.

An M-rated story doesn’t owe you any apologies for being what it is. An M-rated story, at the end of the day, is a STORY. You are a human being who should be capable of controlling not only your impulses but your reactions to things, at least to some degree, and yet you refuse to. You, in fact, continue to prove you CAN’T control yourself in the least because hey, just now, halfway through writing this post? I got THREE MORE ASKS by you. No less than three. And you finished them off, again, with a pretense that you’re going to stop pestering me...

... But hey. You said that at the end of the last ask I pasted up there. Hmm. And yet...

You came back, over and over and over again? :’)

RIGHT ON ALL ACCOUNTS! So... how do TWENTY ASKS, after claims that you’d finally stop, count as “regret”? You’re not changing at all, anon, because YOU DON’T WANT TO. You don’t, to this day, see what you did wrong. You don’t get it. And you won’t get it. So how about we just keep going with the next four?

Oh! But hey, you actually switched blogs this time. Super sweet of you to finally listen to ONE thing I said. Very nice.

I’ll just point out: I received the last NINE asks I’ve pasted here in a SINGLE DAY.

Nine. In one day.

I only ever got that many asks in a single go during review parties (admittedly, there were more than that, but still). The fact that you felt the need to send me NINE ASKS, to beg for forgiveness with a completely dishonest apology, is all the proof of harassment anyone could possibly ask for, right? If you weren’t an anon and at least had the GUTS to own up to your opinions, which you seem to consider absolutely sacred and completely correct, you’d have never gotten away with this. Ergo why you don’t have those guts, and why you keep sending anon reviews and asks too.

The fact that you’re so obsessed with this problem, to the point of believing Sokka’s best sex was with JUNE? We’ve literally finished an entire arc of Sokka and Azula banging across the Fire Nation with no restraint, with the two of them repeatedly remarking this is the best time they’ve ever had, and you’re so completely obsessed with this problem that you apparently think Sokka angrily fucking someone WHILE DECEIVING HIMSELF INTO THINKING IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE is... better? Are you FOR REAL? Are you seriously THAT BAD at reading?

Please, click here. I can’t even stand it anymore. It’s not even for my own sake but yours. You need it.

Also... you’re projecting so bad. Like, so bad. June’s teasing in that chapter is 100% intended to piss them off. The fact that she starts asking for Azula to lend her her “second boyfriend”, AKA Rui Shi, should tell you just how much stock June puts in what happened between her and Sokka: SHE DOESN’T GIVE A DAMN. She’s honestly more entertained by pissing off Azula as a consequence of it than over the sex she had with Sokka, especially considering she even lost her temper with him after he started apologizing in 28. You’re so completely beside yourself you can’t see ANYTHING clearly?

If you REALLY need it spelled out, no, Sokka wasn’t June’s best sex. June has probably done anyone and everyone she ever wanted to, and chances are she absolutely found someone, or several someones, who actually wanted HER, for HER, just as much as she may have wanted them. And that, you insecure mess of a human being, would absolutely make for a much better lay than what she got with Sokka. Why don’t I outright state this in the story, you’ll ask? Because despite what you may believe, this story ISN’T a love triangle between Azula, Sokka and June! Oh my, the horror! We’ve literally spent 198 chapters building up the story and developing Azula and Sokka’s relationship but the ONE TIME encounter with June apparently makes her that pivotal for your whole existence?

Dude, I literally don’t look at 28 AT ALL these days, because I don’t care to. Because even when I wrote it, it hurt me so bad having written it that I was crazy about getting to everything else so I could put it behind me. Whenever I reference it, I do the same way I reference ANYTHING ELSE. The only person who seems to think I’m doing it to further torture anyone IS YOU.

And yes, did I just say it hurt me too? Oh, my, what a SHOCKER! The fact is, that scene is only as intense as it is because I literally couldn’t bring myself to write it. It wasn’t until it came to mind that Sokka COULD imagine Azula in June’s place that I finally found the way to do it: it wasn’t just Sokka imagining Azula instead, it was ME. Because if it had been anything else? I wouldn’t have been able to write it at all. I basically wrote it as hatesex Sokkla because I NEEDED to in order to write it. “THEN WHY DID YOU EVEN WRITE IT?!?!?”, you’ll scream, I’m sure: BECAUSE I TREAT MY CHARACTERS AS HUMAN BEINGS WHO MAKE MISTAKES AND DO THINGS THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE. BECAUSE SOKKA WAS IN A DARK PLACE AND DIDN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT AZULA WAS FEELING OR THINKING. BECAUSE AZULA WAS IMPULSIVE AND CONTROLLING AND COULDN’T REALIZE THAT THE MORE SHE TRIED TO FORCE SOKKA TO BEND TO HER WILL, THE MORE HE WOULD TRY TO BREAK FREE.

But all this is clearly too complex for you. Can’t even fathom understanding anything remotely close to characterization and conflict within relationships, no. You’re something else entirely.

And so, we move on to the post-apology Anon: you DO realize that forgiveness is something earned? I mean, it’s kinda funny because Sokka actually earned his own. He spent ages working for it, and even AFTER Azula told him he was forgiven, he still feels so bad about having hurt her that, to this day, he regrets it. Being FORGIVEN was not a condition for him to feel remorse. He regretted his actions because HE KNEW THEY WERE WRONG. Because he’s an actual, decent human being who, when faced with a catastrophic mistake, actually wants to amend it and wishes he had acted differently despite he can’t take anything back anymore.

But you? You can’t even begin to understand what regret means. I guess another dictionary definition would help?

Definitions of regret

1. (v) feel remorse for; feel sorry for; be contrite about

2. (v) feel sad about the loss or absence of

3. (v) express with regret

4. (v) decline formally or politely

5. (n) sadness associated with some wrong done or some disappointment

So, your attempts to beg for forgiveness fall completely flat. And I say it in plural, ATTEMPTS, because in case you think I’m daft and forgot your old reviews and asks, I didn’t: THIS ISN’T YOUR FIRST ATTEMPT TO APOLOGIZE FOR THIS BULLSHIT. I thought I should clarify that, because heh, you have claimed you won’t come back, you have claimed you’re sorry, you have said many platitudes in the past that actually had no meaning... and I could tell they didn’t, which is why I never answered them. Because there was no way someone who had exhibited such obsessive behavior would actually control themselves and get over their issues after MONTHS of persistent harassment.

And so, you didn’t disappoint, because I had zero expectations that you’d actually abide by your apologies. Empty apologies, again, because to this moment you don’t even know what you did wrong. You don’t get it. To put it in the way I did for someone else who talked to me about this mess:

You could be complaining to me about something else entirely. You could be here, demanding that I explain why I’ve been writing Sokka killing people, for instance. You could be disregarding all sense, reason, historical precedents and what-have-you as to why a warmongering, canonically genocidal nation like the Fire Nation would ever have a system like the Gladiator League and enslave other cultures to do their bidding.

And if you came back with those complaints PERSISTENTLY, FOR A YEAR, I’D BE JUST AS ANGRY AS I AM NOW.

It’s NOT about the situation you’re throwing a fit over. It’s NOT about me having it out for you. It’s about YOU not knowing limits or boundaries, going as far as you constantly, consistently have, ever seeking to twist my story into whatever warped, fucked up perception you’ve developed over it, without ever slowing down to think that your actions and your behavior are affecting someone else. I’m not just a rambling robot who can’t seem to stop talking or writing or whatever you may think I am: I’m an actual person with a FUCKLOAD of problems, who literally just had the WORST year of her life, and you just decided to continue adding to the pile, never slowing down to consider that your feelings, and your opinions, and your pain, does NOT invalidate other people’s, let alone does it make you EXEMPT of hurting others. Which, heh, if you knew how to read, you could’ve even LEARNED this from Gladiator! :’D

Because Azula, so hurt as she was, took to hurting Sokka too, in many, many ways. And Sokka, once he understood how wrongly he had judged Azula, simply let her hurt him because he thought he deserved everything she threw at him. Later on? Azula realizes all the pain she caused Sokka COULD have led him to choose the White Lotus over her. She’s in a life-or-death situation, unable to fight back, and the ONLY reason she doesn’t get screwed over and captured by the enemy is because Sokka decides she matters more to him than joining forces with sketchy people who are out for revenge. But what if she’d hurt him more than she had? What if she’d done WORSE than she did? Maybe he would’ve been so hurt too that, at this point, he would’ve chosen the White Lotus and not only abandoned her but handed her over to her nation’s enemies! :’) oh, the horror. Is it really that unthinkable? Why, it’s not to me. And why not? Because if Azula had been as unforgiving and unyielding as you are, if she had been so obsessive over whatever caused her pain and refused to move on... this story would SUCK. BADLY.

Makes you wonder what that says about your mentality, doesn’t it?

Alas, after all this digression as to why your behavior is absolutely appalling to me, let’s see what you did indeed, right after your absolutely shallow apology that was obviously not sincere, because you don’t regret having bothered me at all, you just regret that I won’t abide by your whining...

Is THIS what an apologetic, remorseful person looks like? Really, now? Honestly, if Sokka were half as bad as you are, he would’ve slept with half the Fire Nation by now while constantly coming back to Azula like “Oh woops did it again, sorry!”

Yes, I can honestly make the link pretty easily. Must be why you keep assuming he’ll ever be with someone else, because if you were in his place, you would do exactly that :’) beautiful how things just come full circle, isn’t it?

That ask came as a response to another, potentially ill-intended one, potentially sent by you too. An ask I answered with a whole list of unique things Sokka has done for Azula. Not only did you NOT understand the list’s purpose despite you may have even been the one to ask for it... but you took a line directly referencing OBVIOUS events like chapters 64, 69 and 93, moments in which Azula either put a stop to opportunities where she and Sokka might have ended up going too far, and he accepted it without complaint... or Sokka himself put a stop to them, KNOWING that Azula would be taking a huge risk if she gave herself to him completely as she does from 97 onwards. That you literally took something that was SO VERY OBVIOUS, and twisted it into chapter 28 again speaks LENGTHS of how absolutely messed up your perception and interpretation of this whole story is. You have issues. Serious issues. And I’m not saying this just to be an ass, I’m saying it because it’s clear as day that if you CAN’T stop linking absolutely everything I say or do to chapter 28, whether it’s being referenced or not (and in this case, it was NOT), the problem isn’t me, IT’S YOU.

And here we go again. You are actually trying to POLICE the Sokkla fandom at this point? An ANON? And hey, you returned to the Gladiator blog! Which means you were so pissed that I didn’t answer your previous asks and your phony apology because I KNEW you’d come back that even your teeny, tiny behavioral correction was pulled back because you were MAD. And you HAD TO MAKE YOUR OPINIONS KNOWN, AGAIN.

Do tell, are you the same ass who harassed a pretty new friend I’ve made in this fandom? An honestly solid writer who happens to feature Sokka having other, prior relationships to Azula because, haha, if you work with CANON settings, that’s basically guaranteed since Sokka already has canon relationships before even knowing Azula exists? And then, even if in those experiences Sokka ends up going “... I bet it’d be better with Azula”, you STILL take this as a slight and you consider it a reason to go around harassing writers and potentially even THREATENING to report their content because you’re mad that Sokka isn’t exclusively Azula’s in every single story you pick up?

The worst part is, I actually wrote at least 2 stories in my Saturdays’ oneshots where Azula and Sokka are each other’s first everything, absolutely so. And I got nothing from you for it, not even a teeny tiny “HEY THANK YOU YOU FINALLY WROTE WHAT I WANTED TO SEE!”. No, you only come out of your hole to ATTACK writers. To tell us what to do when you think we’re not doing it right. As if you had the SLIGHTEST right to tell ANYONE what to do.

I literally have been here for EIGHT YEARS. I’ve been creating content for this ship for that long, when nobody else was anymore. I won’t take credit for the ship’s rise in popularity, despite yes, it’s far from a major ship no matter how far we’ve come... but my story didn’t reach the heights it has out of sheer dumb luck. I worked my ass off with Gladiator in every way I could to make it a story of the scope and depth it deserved to be, and the fact that people who didn’t even ship Sokkla were interested in reading the story all the same has always been something I take pride on. A ton of multishippers read this story, and support Sokkla too: neither you nor ANYONE has any right to demand or claim or pretend that someone else has no right to be part of this fandom or to set guidelines as to what their content should be. There’s LITERAL stories out there of Sokka having a goddamn HAREM, just so you know, with Azula included amongst the women involved in it... and you’re here, throwing a fit over people featuring Sokka having one-time encounters and brief relationships with other girls before committing completely to Azula.

I’ve been here, working my ass off for Sokkla, not only in writing but literally developing my art skills to the best of my ability so I could ONE DAY create the visuals and images these two evoked for me...

And yet I don’t feel I have any right to tell ANYONE how to make their content.

If there was a set number of words in fics or artworks someone needed to make for a ship to prove themselves worthy of obtaining the skill of GATEKEEPING, I am 100% positive I have more than outdone that limit.

And yet I DON’T play gatekeeper. I NEVER have, and I NEVER will. People can create whatever they want to create, whether I enjoy it or not is up to me, and if I DON’T enjoy it, I DON’T read it. If there’s Sokkla content out there I can’t even STOMACH? I would ignore it and move on with my life. You? You make it your whole life’s crusade to attack people over anything that tickles you wrong. That’s how it works, isn’t it?

Unless you’re planning on pulling a Scooby-Doo-esque twist where you remove your mask and reveal you were a known Sokkla fan and content creator all along, which I find ABSOLUTELY unlikely, then this means you haven’t done anything, ANYTHING, for this fandom beyond sending anonymous harassment to people who are actually taking time out of their lives to create content for this ship. The main reaction I’ve seen at you from ANY of us, whether anons like yourself or actual content creators like myself, is that you have too much time on your hands and need a better hobby. And I agree, completely.

So, where people like me and my fellow Sokkla creators are actually making content that convinces people, if not to ship it, to at least CONSIDER this ship a possibility... you’re out there, in hiding, pretending you have any right to tell us what to do and going ignored on most accounts. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: if I had any respect for someone, and they either stopped responding to me or started responding by telling me to leave them alone, I’d feel like such stain of garbage I’d never even try to interact with them again. While people absolutely can be different and react differently to things... I can’t see how, exactly, you have any respect for me when knowing you’re a problem for me has never stopped you and most likely never will.

I’ll admit, this one actually made me laugh. Like... you’re seriously trying to tell me that a sex scene was way too good and that’s why I have to change it. I actually disagree on every account, because the last time I revisited 28 I thought the scene was absolutely distant from my best work? I’ve written soooo much smut recently and literally any of those scenes kicks 28 out of any “best smut” contest by MILES. But... heh. This one, apparently, was too good.

I mean... thank you? For telling me that my smut skills are apparently that great they need to be toned down? Fascinating, really.

But again, “it sadly seems to be a too late to write chapter 28″. Sadly?

SADLY?

You can stick your sadness up where the sun doesn’t shine, dude:

SOMEONE WHO THREW SUCH A FIT OVER THEIR REVIEWS BEING REWRITTEN SHOULD

NEVER

TELL SOMEONE ELSE THAT IT’S TOO BAD THEY CAN’T REWRITE ANY OF THEIR CONTENT.

EVER

You can’t pretend, again, that you were EVER sorry for ANY of what you did... while still trying to tell someone they should rewrite their content. Honest to gods, you’re an asshole. You are. And if you think I’m one too, great, I own up to it gladly. But you’re the one willingly intoxicating their brain with my content, only to consistently go MAD over it, and then unleash this kind of illogical nonsense right back at me. I know art can generate a myriad of responses, but I am NOT responsible for your immaturity and inability to handle serious subjects and topics that SHOULD MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. If you don’t KNOW how to deal with the fact that there’s a lot of questionable, dislikeable things in this world, then my damn story is the least of your concerns because you’re well on your way to leading a VERY miserable life, Anon. Better get ready for it, will you?

And again, the Gladiator blog. Again, pretending to be well-mannered, and also, again, using the world “sadly”, same as the ask above. Like... man, what on earth is wrong with you. Are you seriously this masochistic? Do you also drink arsenic for sport? What on EARTH brings you the belief that asking how far or how much was done between Sokka and his previous one-night-stands would help you IN ANY WAY, WHATSOEVER?

I think I’ll answer that question, for once, with actual quotes, taken right from some of your favorite chapters, no less:

"When you and Ruon Jian got married, was he…?" she asked. Mai only raised a confused eyebrow, and Azula had the distinct feeling that Mai knew what she was talking about, but would force her to blurt it out anyways. She sighed: "A virgin."

Ty Lee's hands flew to her mouth as Mai raised her eyebrows. To Azula's astonishment, she merely shrugged.

"I don't know. I never asked," she said. Azula snorted.

"Then you're smarter than me. By far," she grunted. Mai smirked.

And as things digress there into Azula explaining what happened, let’s skip that and go straight to Mai’s direct answer:

"I've never asked Ruon Jian about whether or not he had anything serious with other girls before me because I seriously don't care," said Mai. "If I knew about it, I'd probably have a bout of jealousy like yours, I suppose… but it's in his past, and he left them behind to make me his present and his future. So, whatever he might have experienced before, with however many women there were, isn't something I'm overly concerned about."

"You're awfully mature compared to me if that's the case," said Azula, slipping her fingers through her hair again. Mai smirked.

"You've been complimenting me quite a lot today, Azula, that's not like you…"

"Shut up," Azula grunted. Mai chuckled.

:’)

This is the only answer this ask warrants. The fact that you’re so immature and so obsessed as to want to know more about what happened with something you HATE is completely cringeworthy and absurd. If you want to get angry imagining Sokka having wild sex with every woman who crosses his path, go ahead and do it, but do us both a favor and torture yourself, and yourself alone, with those thoughts rather than coming back TWENTY TIMES to my inbox looking for MORE reasons to get angry. You’re honestly unbelievable.

You know, that reading comprehension site I linked up there? Courses, 20% off! Seriously, perfect fit for you. You need it, direly.

Like... how can someone read a story built on the premise of Azula literally defeating Sokka painfully in battle to the point he’s left unable to move, taking Sokka away from home, turning him into a slave, being objectively responsible for the WORST TWO YEARS OF HIS LIFE... and then come to my inbox asking if Azula will ever hurt Sokka?

Dude, you’re off the deep end. You can’t even pretend you have a grasp on reality if you SERIOUSLY THINK Azula has NEVER hurt Sokka. Like, seriously, it feels like you’re reading this truncated version of Gladiator that’s only chapters 28, 111, 112 and perhaps 123? Is that what’s going on?

I’ve had Sokka and Azula arguing over ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING, whether for humorous or for serious purposes, since the very beginning of the story. Their first serious falling out is LITERALLY caused by the direct conflict of their worldviews clashing in chapter 12. Their second falling out was indeed caused by women: by Azula’s discovery that Sokka didn’t want to fight women, which of course, doesn’t bother you in the least because you and I both know that’s NOT what your problem was.

I could literally run through the whole story listing every single argument they’ve had, every single time they’ve hurt each other if that’s what you want: their first time? It literally comes from a very serious argument where Sokka believed he had reached the pinnacle of his potential as a fighter and feared Azula would need someone else to achieve her goals instead of him.

AND YOU’RE SERIOUSLY HERE ASKING IF THEY’LL EVER ARGUE OVER ANYTHING ELSE.

You don’t read this story. This ask absolutely proved it to me. You only read chapter 28 and everything potentially connected to Sokka having anything with other women. You don’t CARE about anything else, simply. Because if anything actually had ANY impact on you? You’d say something about it. But the only thing that touches your weird heart is Sokka sleeping with anyone else or having any potentially romantic interactions with someone else, whether he rejects them or not.

You don’t care about Gladiator. You only care about your ego, and the validation of your worldview and puritanic morals.

And to that I say, fuck that noise. I write whatever the hell I want to write, and you’re not going to rope me into playing it safe just to please insecure harassers who don’t know boundaries and are completely incapable of empathizing with anyone while demanding everyone should understand their feelings.

Final note on this matter: you, also, have no idea what love is. You plain and simple don’t understand it. You’re even more confused by what love should be than Azula was at the start of this story. You don’t get it, AT ALL.

All you want is for them to get even on things? You literally asked me, when I was in my angry spree of deleting your bullshit, to make Azula and her future husband have happy consensual quality sex with who knows how many orgasms... because it was only fair!

AGAIN: YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND LOVE IN THE LEAST.

If you think love is about getting even, you’re seriously an asshole. If you think love is about both people being 100% equal in social regards and experiences, you don’t even UNDERSTAND human relations. Do you live in a bubble, by any chance? Maybe you do! You must have zero contact with anyone other than people with your same puritanic beliefs, right? So that means you assume everyone who’s different from you is fundamentally a bad person? I take it?

Like... literally at this point I think you’d hear about someone who was abused in their childhood, molested, and your reaction would simply be “Oh wow I hope someone molests whoever they end up marrying too, so that way they may be even in the future and been molested by the exact same number of people, otherwise it’s not really love”.

This is fucking sick. I’m not holding back at this point, it’s SICK. It’s TWISTED. It’s VILE. Your mentality is absolutely repulsive to me. You don’t know what love is, and you have the most literal, obvious change to understand it better by reading this story properly, but instead you just read chapter 28 over and over and over again, isn’t that right?

And here’s the evidence of that. You really want me to answer that last question?

No, it doesn’t bug me to read that AT ALL. Because unlike you? I don’t obsessively reread 28 while disregarding everything else in the story. Unlike you, I don’t revisit the chapter every day to pick apart every line to look for reasons to get extra angry at those developments.

Most of us, when faced with things we DON’T like in fiction? We move past it. You, instead, dig yourself into a hole and continue digging, and then pretend to hold other people responsible for whatever impact this may be having on your psyche. Because yes, you’re holding me responsible for whatever trauma or insecurity this is awakening inside you when you continue to pester me as you have: if you’re an adult, you should have the tools and brains to determine what is and what isn’t acceptable behavior, as well as to curate your own experiences with media, with fandom, with EVERYTHING to do with these communities. If you choose to look for things to hate instead of things to love, THAT’S ON YOU.

And if you’re allegedly looking for things to love but can’t find ANY that suit your purposes (which... is bullshit. Clearly, your only priority is “Sokka must be a virgin who never had anything with anyone else”, and such stories DO exist, which I guarantee considering I’ve written at least THREE of them, where it’s absolutely stated that Sokka’s first and only one is Azula)...

Well, it’s funny. Because when I got here? I was looking for some very specific fics so I could explore whether or not Sokkla made any sense. And I didn’t find them.

Which resulted...

... In me writing the very stories I wanted to see.

Oh, my. Imagine taking your impulses and channeling them into something productive rather than looking for reasons to get angry 24/7! Must be such a NOVEL CONCEPT for you!

Seriously, you have no right to dictate what anyone does. Again, worth bringing up because you INSIST on the rewriting matter. Even if you’re claiming you’re done asking for it, you somehow KEEP bringing it up. And then you act like me mentioning 28′s events here or there in the story is absolutely outrageous... but you just go right on ahead and do the same thing yourself, don’t you? Funny how much of a hypocrite you really are, isn’t it?

The fact that you’re bringing up something I have NEVER written, and have NO INTENTIONS of ever writing, as some sort of stupid, ridiculous argument to be made AGAINST the post I literally reblogged TODAY... is just absurd beyond belief.

The fact that I ever even wrote Sokka cheating on Suki with Azula, which I DID, still bothers me. Because yes, it made for a good story, but the truth is, it doesn’t sit well with me. It worked in The Reason, worked in my collab story with a friend, but it doesn’t mean I feel 100% happy with that choice. Even if the cheating only amounted to a kiss in The Reason, and then a lot worse than just that in the other story, it’s still not cool! :’) I know this!

... And yet no one, NO ONE, has ever caught me writing Sokka cheating on Azula. In fact, when my collab story with my friend seemed to start moving towards that angle I BEGGED her not to do it, and then she didn’t, and my heart was deeply relieved and blissful for it. Because not only did it mean we wouldn’t have to deal with the very controversial and unsettling notion of someone in a good relationship cheating on their significant other... but because in that story, it also showed how much he had grown, and how he was truly devoted to Azula despite he hadn’t been to Suki.

But alas, I have my qualms with that concept, of course I do. And I don’t like it. Ergo, I’ll never write it.

Which begs the question as to WHY, exactly, you’re so obsessed with the notion of Sokka cheating on Azula? Like... do you get off on it? Are you wanking at the idea of Sokka and June every single night and then wake up feeling like crap and then take it out on me, by any chance? Is that what’s going on? Because I’m seriously starting to believe it is.

You clearly don’t understand anything about storytelling, which is probably why you don’t have the guts to create your own content in the first place. But the fact that I reblog a post about how conflict in a story is GOOD, and your first thought is “THEN THAT MEANS YOU APPROVE OF SOKKA CHEATING!” actually says A LOT MORE about you than it says about me. You need help. Clearly, the therapy site I was sending you to the last time wasn’t much good, was it? I guess you just ignored it in the end. Hopefully the reading comprehension one will suit you better, right?

Fuck you, seriously, for coming to someone who has been working this hard for this long, for a ship that they’re completely devoted to, to spout this kind of senseless shit. To think you seriously ever believed I’d accept your half-assed apologies when you’ve been doing this sort of bullshit for this long... you’re a piece of work. If you have the time to write that BULLSHIT into my inbox, at the very least use that time to look INWARD and ponder just what your damn problem is, resolve it on your own, AND LEAVE ME THE HELL OUT OF IT. Someone as immature and unstable as you has no business reading M-rated fiction, and I honestly rue the day you ever clicked my story. Both your life and mine would be countless times better if you simply had scrolled past it.

And on and on we went today. The THREE MORE ASKS that arrived as I was typing this insanely long response. Which resulted in you bumping the total, successfully, to 20. MIGHTY NICE OF YOU TO PROVE ME RIGHT! :’)

Now then, getting serious here... I must say your priorities are fucked. Like. Really fucked.

You’d rather Sokka tries to KILL AZULA than have a one-time sexual encounter with someone?

Like... you’re here, condoning VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN to that extent...? :’D and then you... you actually have the balls to whine because apparently him hurting her feelings is WORSE?!

Are you EVEN LISTENING TO YOURSELF???

You know, I think I have to offer you some REALLY good advice right now: go watch Naruto. Seriously, all of it. Go watch it, and enjoy your sweet loins’ release once Sasuke and Sakura start trying to kill each other, ONLY TO END UP TOGETHER AT THE END! :’) They were both 100% faithful to each other too, in the sense of Sakura getting depicted as a girl who can’t ever get over the guy she had a crush on when she was 6, no matter if he tries to kill her or her friends once he starts to go off the deep end, and Sasuke getting depicted as a guy who treats everyone like garbage, even the people he loves, because his manpain story somehow validates him being absolutely toxic to everyone he knows, so that’s absolutely up your alley! 100% the love story you’ve been looking for! You’re gonna LOVE IT.

Man, I just can’t believe you. I really can’t believe you. You’re seriously asking me to feature Sokka trying to kill Azula because that’s more acceptable to you. There was a story out there, you know? With Azula basically using Sokka to commit suicide, impaling herself on his sword and dying? You should just go look for that too, perfect fit for you (though it may be gone from the depths of this wretched site by now, which tbh I’d be grateful for, since it was the most unsettling, disturbing read).

Also? Thank you, truly, for all the remarkably shallow compliments you’ve thrown at me to “soften” your “criticism” (which, again, is whining, not legitimate criticism). Calling me a capable writer is super NICE of you, especially after all these months of persistent harassment and constant repetition that I should rewrite whatever you don’t like. I mean... that’s definitely the way someone treats a capable writer, isn’t that right?

“The problem isn’t conflict it’s what the conflict is”, the anon says. I’ve been writing a story for 8 years, 198 chapters and counting... and I’ve had a ton of different types of conflicts for Sokka and Azula to deal with. If your problem is “I don’t like this conflict”, FINE. But... hey. There have been THOUSANDS of other sources of conflict across the story, so many I don’t think I can even promise I’d ever take my time to count them all... there’s whole ARCS with conflicts regarding world politics and the war’s consequences and both Azula and Sokka completely changing their worldviews as they realize their realities are soooo much more complicated than they ever knew...!

Ergo. There ARE other conflicts. There are SO MANY of them that there’s no point in even listing it all out.

And yet you are obsessed with the one conflict you didn’t like, outright acting like THIS IS THE ONLY CONFLICT THERE EVER WAS, as proven by that preposterous and mindless “when will Azula ever hurt Sokka” ask. The one development you were pissed at, because it tickled your loins the wrong way. Oh yes, I’m a capable writer, I could’ve done things differently...!

BUT I DIDN’T!

And aren’t you thrilled that I didn’t? You would be a complete nobody in this fandom if this hadn’t happened, because otherwise what would you POSSIBLY have to complain about?! To harass someone about?! You’d be SO BORED! You’d be so unknown, nobody would even be aware of your existence...!

Though.

Wait.

You’re an anon.

You’re unreachable and nobody really knows who you are.

... So never mind, you actually still are a complete nobody in this fandom and your only attempt to even take part in it is to be a negative, irritating presence that literally makes people facepalm, laugh and ridicule you to the extent I and many others have laughed at you.

And yes, that post I reblogged was 100% worth reblogging. Why? Because it hits the nail on the head:

I DIDN’T WRITE 28 SO YOU’D BE HAPPY WITH SOKKA.

I DIDN’T WRITE THAT CHAPTER TO MAKE PEOPLE THINK “OH WOW WHAT A WHOLESOME SITUATION”.

I WROTE IT BECAUSE IT WAS MEANT TO DETONATE CONFLICT AND SPEED UP CHARACTER GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT, WHICH IT DID.

And the thing is? Maybe, in the future, I’ll write other stories, just as I wrote the Saturdays’ stories, and Sokka won’t have either meaningful or worth mentioning encounters with anyone else in them. Maybe I’ll write original fiction, and there won’t be any twists like what happened in 28!

But you will never get over this.

You will never care about any other content beyond this.

And that’s your failing, not mine.

If you would rather obsess over what makes you angry, that’s on YOU. But I’m damn sure I wrote a pretty reasonable conflict, character-wise, that was not only consistent with characterization but with the slightly darker take of the Avatarverse I’ve been working with. Not only that, but I NEVER skipped the consequences of their actions. I literally had them facing those consequences for whole arcs. Sokka assumed he’d never have a chance to be with Azula and made his peace with it, WITHOUT EVER PRETENDING HIS DEVELOPING FEELINGS FOR AZULA WERE ANYTHING THAT ENTITLED HIM TO HER LOVE IN RETURN. But oh, that’s too complex for you to understand, isn’t it? The fact that Sokka actually loves Azula for her, and not for himself, that he devotes himself to her in every imaginable way, that he fights people who dare disrespect her, that he would stop at NOTHING, even coming close to killing someone, to keep her safe despite he’s completely against killing people? That all means NOTHING to you.

And again? THAT’S YOUR PROBLEM. THAT’S YOUR FAILING. THAT YOU’RE SO OBSESSED WITH 28 AND CAN’T MOVE PAST IT IS NOT MY FAULT, IT’S YOURS.

Because I damn right moved past it. I’ve moved so far past it I literally don’t ever THINK about that damn situation until your stupid asks start arriving. Heck, maybe if you didn’t ASK so much about it, I’d stop bringing it up in recent chapters of the story :’) how do you feel about that particular kernel of unexpected information? Maybe you’re impacting the story in a whole shocking manner by inception-ing 28 into my head all the time and that’s why I can’t seem to stop throwing in lines referencing it for you to go completely BONKERS over. How about that? :’)

Say... how exactly do you think this fic is special? Literally all I know is you think I’m a capable writer who can create something perfectly catered for you, and yet ALL the feedback I’ve ever gotten from you is “REWRITE 28 AND EVERYTHING ABOUT SOKKA HAVING ANYTHING WITH OTHER GIRLS I DON’T UNDERSTAND ANY OF THIS I’M GENUINELY CURIOUS THIS IS LEGITIMATE CRITICISM SIGNING OFF BYE”. Your compliments are completely devoid of meaning because they’re literally just a handful of “you’re a good writer” and you don’t even say WHY you think I’m good. You don’t ever come here to tell me how much you enjoyed a certain scene, or how happy you are with a certain development... No.

Because when Sokka and Azula got married? What did I get?

“HOW CAN YOU LET SOKKA AND AZULA GET MARRIED NOW WHEN HE SLEPT WITH SOMEONE ELSE IN CHAPTER 28?!”

I wish I had screenshots for those, but you and I both know the truth, you irksome anon, and the truth is you did exactly that. And with every new development in Shu Jing, I got yet more reviews and ask(s), persistently whining about how UNFAIR it is that now Azula apparently is locked in marriage with this unfaithful man who has been unfaithful to her a grand total number of ZERO TIMES ever since their relationship began! How DARES he even think about marrying her?! Scourge of earth, let’s murder him in cold blood because DEATH IS BETTER THAN CHEATING!!!

If you think highly of Gladiator for ANY REASON, you’ve kept those reasons well and safely tucked away in the depths of your broken heart or shared them with anyone but me. Look at all these asks, damn you, and tell me at what point in time did you convey ANYTHING beyond “why don’t you write what I want you to write?”, huh? Because hell, I don’t see it in any of them. Literally nowhere. No backwards (: emojis are compliments or evidence of how much this story allegedly means to you. All I know is that you hate 28 and everything about it.

And you see...

I don’t give a flying fuck.

I don’t.

You can hate 28 all you want.

You can hate June.

You can hate Sokka.

It is, INDEED, a free world.

But you have no right, NONE WHATSOEVER, to commit to this level of harassment as you have, for A WHOLE YEAR, and pretend the problem is that I, Seyary, the “evil super-sensitive author who writes Sokka sleeping with other people and doesn’t even break a sweat but then crumbles to pieces when “negative” feedback arrives”, can’t handle your comments properly.

I’ve said it before, damn you: NO ONE NEEDS TO REITERATE THEIR OPINIONS A MILLION TIMES. NO ONE. NOT YOU, NOT THE PEOPLE DEMANDING FOR THE PLOT TO KICK INTO HIGH GEAR, NOT THE ONES WHO THINK THIS SHIP IS GARBAGE, NOT ANYONE.

NO ONE HAS ANY RIGHT OR REASON TO COME BACK PERSISTENTLY THORUGHOUT A YEAR TO HARASS SOMEONE NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES THEY’RE TOLD TO STOP IT.

Point being: HATE WHAT YOU WILL! But keep it the fuck off my blog. And if you CAN’T? Get used to these responses. Because you’re going to get them, constantly. I guarantee it.

I know your damn opinion already. I know it by heart and I damn wish I didn’t. You are perfectly free to go read all the other stories where I’ve had Sokka staying faithful to Azula, with Azula being his first, or with Azula being much more experienced and sleeping around while Sokka stays mostly chaste... but you don’t. You come back, every time, to my miserable inbox that must cry every time you show up in it, to make these demands and pretend you have any power over what I should be writing.

Again, no, I have no idea why this story matters to you at all. And at this point? I’d rather NOT know. Because I’m 100% sure the only thing that matters most to you is chapter 28. So you know, go ahead, wank to it again and cry yourself to sleep. It’s kind of fascinating to have written something that has such a visceral emotional impact on a complete and total stranger. Makes it clear I’ve made a lot of progress as a writer if I can fuck up someone’s life to this extent with what I’ve written.

Yeah. Sure. You really think I’ll buy it? You really think this is goodbye? Oh, no, Anon. You can’t stay away. You’ve been told to, you’ve been asked to, but you can’t.

So no, I’m not wishing you good luck back. And I’m certainly not wishing you any fun with my fic, because it’s more than clear that the only source of entertainment it provided you was chapter 28, seeing as it’s the only impactful thing I apparently ever wrote. And someone who’s that obsessed with one of the chapters I most disliked writing despite I knew the plot would benefit from it in the long run simply can’t deserve to have fun. So... good suffering over Gladiator, if anything? Go ahead and continue to wrack your brain while trying to unravel why, oh, why would ANYONE ever write what I wrote and still call themselves a Sokkla shipper?!

I dunno, maybe go on and write something similar yourself. Could be you’ll finally figure out what your problem is if you take to writing the cheating storylines you’re so very much obsessed with. Only, heh, I can guarantee I’m not touching anything you write, out of principle more than anything. I plain and simple don’t want anything to do with you... but as I don’t intend to close my inbox again, it seems I have no choice, do I?

Good fucking luck sticking to this alleged goodbye... but we both know you’ll be coming back very soon, won’t you? No worries, Anon, I’ll be waiting this time. Let’s see if you can break your 20-ask-streak record next time, shall we? :’)

It’s December 13th, at 2:32 PM, in my location. Let’s see how long it takes you to come back, shall we?

EDIT: I neglected to check constantly so it definitely arrived earlier than this, but officially received a response at least 2 hours after this post went live.

Didn’t I call it? Yep, absolutely called it.

#I need a name for this anon #though I guess stalker-harasser anon would work?#yep #stalker-harasser anon #there we go #honestly it feels so utterly backwards to still talk about this to this day #and yet #it never ends #:')#here we go have this dumpster fire of a post #I'm legit going to time this shit #and report right back to you all #once the stalker-harasser comes back #it's the only genuinely hilarious part of this whole thing after all

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