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if we were to consider everyone in kotlc as a plot device for a moment, fitz is really just a representation of the status quo. from the beginning, that has been his main purpose and sophie’s goals often begin with convincing fitz and forcing him to change his perspective and only then is she able to do the same to the elven world at large. dex, of course, plays a role as the flaws of the ostracised. keefe is also coming from a world that should be just as perfect and shiny as the vackers but it isn’t because his parents wanted more power and influence than society had allowed for. they each support or oppose a particular pillar of elven society, from legacy to the power of their abilities to the balance in coexisting with other intelligent species. they not only develop sophie in her character, but are also manifestations of sophie’s influence on the world around her.
#there’s a bigger essay somewhere waiting to make it’s way out#*its#but i was just thinking about this#like kotlc is incredibly character driven#but in the larger plot narrative they’re just forces pushing and pulling sophie for the sake of the narrative#and i hadn’t really considered this ever before but it definitely checks out in some respects#hannah.txt#kotlc#i also started thinking about how the lost cities are far from idealist yet tehyve almost created deontological ethics from the rules#they think govern their real world#but that is for another time
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Damn, this next alphabet is kicking my ass and then I have so many more to do-- (I'm excited to do them, I love long form headcanons and overthinking things into essays and covering a lot in one post, they just take so long especially when my brain ain't working--)
Anyway, have the rest of my sexuality headcanons!!
The Outsiders Queer Headcanons : (Part 2)
Tim -
gay, 100% into men.
has dated/hooked up with women because he's "supposed to," but they always have to make the first move and he never really enjoys it.
pretty open about it. not really the type to bring it up unprompted, keeps his personal life personal, but if asked he sees no reason to hide it
what's anybody going to do about it, fight him? okay, he'll kick their ass. he ain't scared of what anyone thinks about what he does in his own free time. they're the ones that brought it up, they can mind their damn business.
Curly -
unlabeled, if asked he'd just shrug. he likes guys sometimes, he's pretty sure he's liked a girl or two before.
no thoughts, head empty. he has put zero thoughts into it.
maybe somewhere on the arospec, his romantic interests are really muted
still there, just not strong
for him, a partner is more of a MAJOR best friend that he happens to be physically attracted to as well
"wait, do any of the Shepherds like girls?" you ask
well, I just said that Curly likes girls sometimes... but let me introduce yall to
Angela -
pan and proud as FUCK
and has MASSIVE game, more than her brothers combined
poly as well, loves group dates and having partners that interact with each other especially
gets really into queer spaces/community, will actually seek out lgbt spaces and such
loves going to drag performances, she's loud and social and likes dramatic make up and costuming, she has a natural draw to drag queens.
Sylvia -
bisexual, prefers men, might go her whole life without even thinking of herself as anything but straight outside of modern au
like, in modern day after hearing about different sexualities then she might clock the feeling after realizing that being attracted to women is a thing
but her attraction to women feels different than her attraction to men, so she would probably just think "oh, we're REALLY good friends and I'd totally kiss her if she wanted to, but that's just how girls are right??"
it isn't even preference so much as it's intensity of attraction, has more small crushes on women and few bigger crushes on men
Evie -
aromantic, bisexual and slightly prefers men
not very romantically affectionate (is platonically affectionate), but is okay with having a partner that is. she just won't initiate or crave it, but she doesn't mind it. romance neutral in general.
does want to date still, loves a good qpr, will communicate with her partner about her lack of romantic attraction but doesn't feel the need to be open about it with others. she's in a relationship, it can be read as a romantic relationship, she isn't correcting anyone
Sandy -
straight
homophobic in an ignorant way
"no, I don't have a problem with the gays, I know some gays!!" girl, NO.
won't be intentionally mean, doesn't like when people are blatantly homophobic, but also won't put effort into changing herself and won't call out other's around her. might give an eyeroll and a "stop, be nice!!" at most.
thinks that since it doesn't actively affect her it isn't really her place or business
Cherry -
bicurious, but probably ultimately straight
is such a girls girl, very platonically affectionate, thinks girls are so pretty, so the thought of dating a girl has crossed her mind
also, she has ass taste in men and has definitely said "a woman would NOT treat me like this" but, boo, I have met women that would treat her like that and if she would just date a man that isn't garbage then she'd see that it's her standards that are the real problem
does try dating a few ladies, really isn't feeling it, feels really bad for leading them on and ends up staying longer than she should because she really loves them as friends and doesn't want to lose them
is the super pretty, casually flirty straight girl that 99% of sapphic people have unfortunately fallen hard for.
Marcia -
aromantic and asexual
has fallen into a lot of comphet, has absolutely dated a handful of men because her friends all were in relationship
slightly romance repulsed, thinks it's all just so boring
but is BOMB at coming up with pick-up lines and stuff, is witty as hell and will get flirty sometimes. she just doesn't want anything even slightly serious. it's a mental exercise, some friendly back and forth, nothing more. anything seriously romance-heavy gives her a major ick
sex-neutral, is interested in anatomy and artistic nudity (think figure drawing), she's not squeamish around the idea of sex and isn't even strictly against having it
just very... scientific about it. not very emotional, will work out theories or ideas in practice. likes to see what the human body can do, likes playing with dynamics, sees it all as research
doesn't really like the idea of a long-term relationship, likes her independence too much
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Don't turn into Zero (Episode 5.1 Doctor Who essay )
The beginning of Season 5 immediately hit my heart with the theme of a crack in the universe on the wall of a child's bedroom.
The theme of fear - not of monsters and specific dangers, but of something formless, indefinable in words - has been painfully familiar to me since childhood. The fear of extinction.
When I was 6-8 years old, I couldn’t formulate this so clearly. But I remember this feeling of “a draft from the abyss” very well. I think this experience is familiar to many children who have been alone for a long time very often.
And just as familiar is the fantasy of a good wizard, an extravagant friend who will burst into your world with special effects, displacing the icy chaos of the void with a stormy stream of life.Doctor Who became such a good wizard for Amelia
And although he disappeared too, but before that he repaired the crack in her wall, replacing the horror of the void with the fear of the monster, Prisoner Zero, which was much more bearable for a child.Because children's fear of monsters is always ambivalent -- they both torment and protect. They protect against feelings of loneliness, uselessness, and the routine of suffering and death. Our fantasies endow the infinite emptiness with a finite form and thus make it more bearable for consciousness.
Prisoner Zero continues this theme of the void - starting with his name, and ending with the fact that he survives by taking on someone else's form.It’s interesting that Amy herself seems to mirror the habits of Prisoner Zero. Her job is to pretend to be someone else
"In the corner of your eye." Over time, many fears, traumas, shocks become something that is “in the corner of the eye.” It always looms somewhere on the periphery, because it has a great influence on our lives, it is always somewhere nearby. We just never look at it directly.
This is how repression of traumatic experience usually works. Usually a person does not forget, in the full sense of the word. It’s just that their consciousness, with the virtuosity of a circus artist, learns to always look the other way.
The theme of disappearance takes on a planetary scale with the appearance of powerful aliens ready to wipe out the entire human race along with Prisoner Zero
And then the Doctor says a phrase that can be very relevant in the psychotherapy of fears: “It’s good to leave. Never come back is better” It's good to repel an attack of anxiety. But as long as you play by the rules of fear, you will always wait for its return
So calling out your demons when you feel confident is a really good idea. To feel like you’re not just a pawn who can only survive as long as you follow someone else’s rules. But a person capable of standing up for themselves, even in the face of bigger forces
We all sometimes need our inner Doctor, who will tell our fears: "Basically, run!”
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tell us about how dethklok has affected the entertainment industry, mr bender.
oh man ok you’ve put me on the spot but that’s ok this was probably a long overdue essay anyway haha
so i feel like there’s several things to keep in mind when discussing the music industry in-universe. for one, the worldbuilding of mtl is set up to be like “everything was the exact same as we knew it until the 2000s* when dethklok became the biggest band in the world”
*we don’t really have an exact year or date but all things considered, some time in the 2000s makes the most sense. i’d guesstimate somewhere around 2002-2004 at the latest.
also quick side note before i start: a lot of this is gonna be up to personal interpretation of the timeline. personally how i see it: mid-90s, dethklok is formed (magnus-era), probably some time around 1998 or so, The Stabbing Incident occurs and he’s kicked out, several months later (perhaps into 1999), they hold auditions and toki joins. by the year 2000, they’re starting to make successful music, and from around 2002 onward they’re million, billion, trillionaires, whatever you wanna call it. because by season 1 (2006) they’re credited as the 12th(?) largest economy in the world. that’s still gonna take Some Time, and i’m trying to be modestly realistic with that growth. if you wanna interpret them as literally becoming trillionaires overnight, go for it! feel free to disregard what i’m about to talk about timeline-wise.
SO. with that outta the way, let’s talk about the music industry in the 2000s. i think the biggest distinction in this era was the fact that getting your music digitally was becoming much more common and would soon become the standard. you have the ipod and itunes coming out, napster is letting people exchange music files, and technology itself was advancing so quickly that you could easily store soooo much more music than you could before. so really, dethklok kinda came out at the perfect time: music was more accessible than ever for consumers, and the ways people could share and communicate about music (forums, instant messaging, illegal file sharing, etc) made word spread so much faster. not only that, but by like 2006, 2007 you had a bunch of music-only stores beginning to shut down because of big box stores like best buy. and consider that through the lens of dethklok’s fame: if your music-only store can only carry so many copies, and you can only get so many at a time, it only makes sense you’re going to be driven out by the bigger store because they buy more and can generally restock faster (and inevitably be in more locations). if i want this hot new dethklok album, i can’t wait two weeks for you to get a new shipment of a couple of them: i’m going to the best buy across the street because they have wayyyy more in stock. hell, there’s even a joke about this in season 3 where the record store closes down…..because it’s a record store (tho they credit it with being because people are illegally downloading which….sure whatever, but historically-speaking most smaller music stores were shut down because of places like walmart).
also this isn’t even touching on the fact that by this point a lot of artists were relying on merchandising to make up for the loss of income, and if there’s one thing dethklok loves…….it’s their branding. thank you charles. dethklok is getting more popular by the MINUTE and so ofc they’re selling all sorts of shit, and we see how arguably “out of ideas” they are by the time the series actually starts (snowcones…..).
ANYWAY SO WITH ALL THAT SAID. how can we assume dethklok permanently changed the industry? well for starters, they oversaturated the market, and while that’s typically seen as a negative thing, in dethklok’s case that’s what the people wanted. that’s all the general public wanted. you can see it in how so many people are dressed, how everyday brands like coffee chains have changed their look to better fit the “dethklok metal” look. it’s become the new standard for what the general masses want. with that in mind, you can imagine how difficult it may be now to be an artist who performs literally any other genre. fingers crossed you know how to scream into a mic, otherwise you might want to start job searching. and unfortunately you can’t apply at the record store, because dethklok’s albums sped up the decline of music-only stores altogether. and even if you are an artist who can still release music, good luck getting anyone to talk about it. for every one other-genre-specific forum or blog, there’s dozens—maybe hundreds—for dethklok. honestly the luckiest fate you could get is ending up in some rockstar camp (magnus and the other counselors), or maybe rebranding yourself as something new entirely (rikki kixx), or if you’re really lucky you can get dethklok to sponsor or collaborate with you in some capacity (SnB, rockzo/zazz blammymatazz). and this isn’t even touching on music award shows; those died by the early 2000s. what’s the point? dethklok’s gonna win everything anyway. maybe if we’re feeling nice we can hope there’s a separate music award show for everyone who’s not dethklok.
if nothing else i hope this can really help illustrate just how dystopic this world is for every other musician. like it’s a nightmare. but that’s what makes the worldbuilding so fucking fascinating, and why i find myself very attached to rikki of all people. cool stuff, and it’s fun to compare it to how things are now, or how you think dethklok would fare in the 2020s. is toki releasing tiktok dances with their newest songs? i don’t wanna think about it.
oh, and those not-so-legal music sharing sites i mentioned earlier? yeahhh those are eradicated by the mid-2000s, on account of everyone who ever used one……mysteriously disappearing. you want dethklok? you better pay up.
#thank you SO MUCH. sorry for the wait i wanted to sit down and Really type this out#hope it’s interesting! :^] i’m always talking your ear off#asks#i know you said entertainment but i wanted to focus on music since that’s more what the series focuses on#though i assure you the entertainment industry like film TV book etc where effected similarly#but not to the scale that the music industry was
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feeling so sad and gross and empty right now. one of the worst things about getting older is having to realize that it doesn't automatically make you a healthier / stronger / more independent person. i could, and will at some point, write an entire essay on the absolute horror of this situation.
i'm aging and still the same words that hurt me at 12 years old hurt me now. i still cry when people raise their voices. i still assume everybody dislikes me until they very clearly state that they do not dislike me. i am sad and angry and so hollow because these emotions just take everything out of me.
i still isolate myself when i feel bad, and even though i'm trying to get better at this i'm not perfect yet. i take everything to heart and i don't know how else to take everything. where does it go if not directly into my chest? how am i supposed to process things without taking them personally?
i've been to therapy and, as helpful as it was, i am still here and living like this. people care about me, people tell me and show me they care about me. but, on the inside, i feel so lonely all the time. i keep waiting for the day that i outgrow these feelings and am suddenly bigger and better and stronger and more capable of living my life to the fullest. this day hasn't come yet and i'm realizing it most likely won't ever come.
i have to wake up every morning and try my hardest to make these changes because my age won't fix them for me. i don't want to be 30 years old and still feeling this way, but working on myself hurts and it's hard.
anyways. i think i will write an essay about this and keep it stored somewhere in my computer where i will look at it occasionally when i'm sad and hopeless.
maybe i'll work on myself today, or maybe i'll have another coffee and listen to music and continue to cry over all the thoughts i think people are thinking about me
#personal talk#personal#just me ranting about the horrors of aging#the horrors of being chronically lonely#the horrors of needing to work on yourself#anyways. this is not the last yall will hear of me
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viii. the other one between six and nine
i must admit, i'm tired.
yesterday took a lot out of me. so much that i couldn't even give, and i ended up taking it all back. i feel ashamed of some things, and even anonymity isn't enough for the burden to be off my shoulders. the worst part is how not talking about it only ensures it will be like this indefinitely. i won't bring it up during therapy, won't bring it up with friends, won't bring it up in the tumblr posts that have no readers at all—
i'm also tired of writing. it's been almost a year since i wrote every day for a week. i mentioned the novel i started writing, right? i have notes somewhere, probably, with how often i wrote on there. fictionwriting is easier than nonfiction, though. or maybe long-form writing is easier than this. finding something new within me every day to record and share, even if every day is a different wall i'm donowalling to, is tough. i have the things i want to talk about, sure, but i am absolutely too lazy to write. i have these big projects, these long essays or even short stories i would like to put here, but i miss the so-revered otium. is neil gaiman right when he talks about writing every day? every day, every day? even writing a little bit every day is kind of hard. i haven't been worrying about word count at all, which is good, which i've never done before, but i've been worrying about more abstract measures of length. how long i can slide my phone screen to reach the end of the post, or how many paragraphs i post. the worst part is the fact that i'm not just comparing myself with myself, but with the aforementioned other blog. the other person, the other writer. i should make a post on how treacherously i compare myself to other people, ever increasing my standards, never being enough for anyone, not even me. i just wanted to say that these bigger projects will probably never leave my mind and materialise because writing every day tires me, takes time, and makes it so this is a chore, not a hobby.
(i know i have to wait until it turns into a habit, which is why i'm not stopping. i've never been a consistent writer. i've always considered it a hobby, but it's mostly been something i never do, because it's always been a chore. it's always been boring and exhausting and unsatisfying, and god, does it take a long time. i'm never good enough for myself. that's a topic for another day.)
today, i wanted to go along with yesterday a little bit, but now i don't know how i'm supposed to do that. one, because i've cut out the segments from yesterday that would segue into today; two, because i have two things that i kind of want to talk about, and i'm not really qualified to talk about either; three, because i'm tired, and bored, and sleepy, and in driver's ed. i just want my damn license. i'm not sixteen, by the way, if an american finds their way to my blog. (if anyone does.)
i wanted to talk about sex a little bit more. but just a little. i thought about going on and on about those 1970s pornos, and i do want to talk about that and how they're not porn like modern-day porn is, they're gay history and avant-garde filmmaking, but i don't want to talk about that today. in part because i've only watched one—1980's loads, by (i believe) curt mcdonnell—and in part because it pains me to talk about this. sex is hard for me. sex is everything but simple and straightforward.
that is true for several reasons. that's probably true for everyone, and everything. living is complex. but i just mean i can't guiltlessly talk about it, and not because of some prudish taboo, but because i think i have issues with sex. many issues with sex.
my libido recently has been through the roof, and i fucking hate it. i've been trying for any relief within my reach, but everything feels like a vice, like a bad habit. like i'm doing something bad to the world, even though i know most if not all that i've done is something a lot, a lot of people do. i hate this sex drive of mine. and i hate all of the truths i snipped out of yesterday's confession, and i hate all of the truths that were never in it.
i feel like a pervert. that's it. i think about sex all the fucking time, and i hate it. i don't do it in a prejudiced way, nor do i do it in an immoral way, but the sheer fact that i spend a considerable chunk of my time letting my mind drift that way makes me hate my own fucking guts. i'm not a sex or porn or masturbation addict, not by a long shot, but i think about sex—i write and read smut, i read comics and manga (hentai? fucking hentai?), i watch porn—so often, so much. i'm tired, and i don't want to be like this. isn't admission the first step to recovery? do i have to shout it from the rooftops to stop being like this?
a big part of me thinks it'll go away if i get laid. i did talk about how long it's been since i've even kissed a person. maybe, i'm just this horny because it's things that i can't have—it's just pent-up energy, just longing. all i can do is hope that's true, and hope the solution comes my way. all i can do is wait.
2022.12.28
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I'll take care of you b.h.
A/n: i haven’t written in a while, so here we go / also not exactly related, but Eight by Sleeping at Last is a perfect song for characters like billy (and daryl dixon i cry) <3
Disclaimer: i don’t own any Stranger Things material
Word count: 1758
Warnings: a lil bit risque (more than anything I’ve written before at least lmao)
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader (female)
Summary: after a fight with his father, Billy comes to you for comfort
Another night, another essay.
If you knew how hellish it would be to take so many English classes in one year, you would have reconsidered. Reading books used to be one of your favorite things to do and has now become a chore. You found your eyes drifting out of focus for the millionth time as you tried reading the same passage again and again, so finally you shut the heavy book with a frustrated sigh. Where you would have normally wished for this silence and peace to finish your assignments quickly and accurately, you now wished for your boyfriend to come knock on your window and distract you.
Those were your favorite times as much as you feigned annoyance - Billy had perfected the art of pushing your buttons and making you squirm, dragging your attention away from Shakespeare or calculus. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to finish your work and relax for the rest of the night, it was just that your laziness and frustration outweighed that well-intentioned attitude.
Should you call him? Take a ride over to his place and knock on his window for a change?
No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Either way, it was late and if Neil answered the phone or found you with Billy, the consequences would be bad for your boyfriend and you couldn’t be the cause of that. The guilt would be unbearable. It was already hard enough to promise Billy you wouldn’t say anything about that bastard, you couldn’t do anything to egg Neil on or give him an excuse to continue what he was doing.
You finally decided to put the work away for the night as you had just upset yourself thinking about Billy and you no longer felt you could complete any work in a sensible way that was worthy of a good grade.
You tiptoed downstairs to return your book bag to its proper spot for the morning and grabbed a cold glass of water before returning to your room. While you were in the kitchen, you decided to make yourself some lunch to take to school, since you didn’t feel tired enough to sleep yet anyway. As you were doing so, you heard the faint rumble of a car engine and a door slam, but didn’t think anything of it.
Once you were finished and the food was in the fridge, you grabbed your water and went quietly back to your room.
You did not expect to see Billy perched on the edge of your bed, so you gasped and jumped a bit, some water spilling over the edge of the glass and wetting the carpet. In a flurry, you shut the door and placed the glass down.
“Holy shit, Bill, you scared me. You can’t surprise a girl like that, now my carpet is all wet.” You smiled a bit, confident that your sass would be met with a quip back from your boyfriend. Not to mention there was an innuendo somewhere in there that Billy would take full advantage of. However, your eyebrows furrowed when you were met with silence. “Billy? Are you alright?” You approached slowly, waiting to see if he would look up at you in response to your question, but he only sniffed and wiped his nose. The hand that he retracted was ruby red. Your heart began to beat faster and you turned on another light in the room, illuminating the heartbreaking sight of the man.
He was a mess. Blood was leaking slowly from his nose and smudged across his cheekbone, which was swollen and beginning to bruise. His full bottom lip was bigger than usual and had a small split, which was also bleeding a bit. It also looked like the neckline of his white tee was ripped and the shirt itself had spots of red on it. His knuckles were broken and bleeding. Once you had given him a once over, your eyes returned to his face to find his eyes glassy and red-rimmed. Your vision blurred as you put the pieces together and assumed this was Neil’s doing. “I’m gonna kill him.” You wiped your eyes to see straight and grabbed your keys off the table, turning in a huff to storm out.
“Don’t.” It was the saddest word you had ever heard, the weakest version of Billy’s voice you could remember. You turned back and saw him finally looking at you, tears leaking down across his cuts and dripping onto that white shirt, turning the crisp white gray. He wiped them away gingerly, reaching a bruised hand out to you that was shaking and weak. Your heart shattered and you took it, softly sitting next to him and waiting for him to make the next move. He curled into you and weakly wrapped his arms around you before laying his face into the crook of your neck. You held him and slowly rocked him back and forth as he silently cried.
After a few minutes of quiet whispers and hushes, Billy lifted his head and sniffed. “Sorry,” he said, looking at the shoulder of your shirt that you could only assume was now stained with tears and blood. Without acknowledging it, you caressed his cheek and went to your hallway closet to retrieve a first aid kit and some towels. You wet them in the sink and returned to your room with the supplies, shutting your door and asking Billy to turn his face to you. You carefully wiped the blood away, spending more care on the spots that were dry and cracked. You wrapped his hand in a bandage, applying cream to all the broken skin of his knuckles and face. It took a lot of energy not to break down at his beautiful face and all it had clearly endured that night, but it wouldn’t be fair to distract him from his own emotions to tend to yours.
You took a deep breath once finished, scrutinizing your work and deciding it was the best you could do. You pressed a kiss to each of his eyelids, the crease between his eyebrows, each cut on his face, and finally his mouth. He hummed a bit at that last kiss, placing a hand on the back of your neck and keeping you there. Your mouths moved together and you kept your eyes closed, pretending for a moment that he was healthy and happy. That wish was squashed when he hissed as his lip split again. “Shit, I’m so sorry.” You were about to get up to grab a tissue and some more cream, but he stopped you.
“I’m alright. Don’t stop.” He put his hand to your face and you closed your eyes, avoiding that corner of his mouth the best you could, but his lips still tasted a bit metallic. Regardless, you kept quiet as you pulled his shirt off and put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him down so he was laying down flat. He had a questioning look in his eyes, which left when you began kissing his neck and moving slowly down to his collarbones. He sighed and relaxed a bit as you sucked and licked the sensitive spots you knew so well. You felt his large hands on your lower back as you continued your work down his chest, stopping right above his waistline.
Once you were satisfied that there were some marks that showed you loved him among the bruises, you lifted a leg and straddled his lap. He shifted his hands to your thighs, groaning a bit as you began rocking up and down on his jean-clad lap. He tried sitting up to gain control, but you pushed his chest back down. “Relax, baby. Let me take care of you.” He growled under his breath and relaxed his posture, watching you from half-lidded blue eyes. You leaned down to press more kisses to his mouth and behind his ears as you continued your rocking, both your breaths quickening the longer you went. “Is this alright?” You wanted to make sure he was comfortable, but you also loved to hear his compliments.
“Yes, God yes, this is perfect. You are perfect. Keep going, I’m getting close.” To help him along, you loosened his belt and dipped your hand beneath the waistline of his jeans. It was not long after that he was finished, quietly moaning your name in your ear so as not to wake the parents. He fully relaxed, muscles loosening, head dropping, and eyes closing as he worked to slow his frantic breathing.
Once he had, he smiled lazily and looked at you. “I love you.” That was enough to know all he wanted to say, but couldn’t. You smiled back and kissed him again. You slowly got up off his lap and opened your drawers to grab him some extra clothes. You piled them in your arms, reaching out a hand to help him up and to the bathroom. You went in with him, helping him to strip everything and then wiping him down. You crouched down so he could step into the pair of sweatpants he had left at your place the other week. You helped him lift his arms enough to shimmy a new tee shirt on. You slipped thick socks onto his feet and held his hand back to your bed. You tucked him in and handed him your water so he could take a few sips, pushing his curly hair from his forehead and pressing a kiss there before climbing in next to him.
He immediately pulled you close and laid his head on your chest, taking a deep breath before fully relaxing. After a few minutes, you thought he was asleep but he whispered your name, cutting himself off. “Yes, honey?” You weren’t sure if he needed something or if anything was hurting him.
“I- I… um,” you gathered it was hard for him to say what he wanted to, as it so often was for him. You laid still, eyes on the ceiling as you waited, patient as always with him. “Thank you. For everything. I love you.” You smiled to yourself and snuggled even closer to Billy if that was possible.
“I love you, too, honey. Stay here as long as you want, forever if you need.” He smiled at that, closing his eyes and finally allowing himself to drift to sleep with your hands brushing through his hair and your heart beating in his ear. You followed suit not too long after.
#billy hargrove x reader#reader x billy hargrove#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove/reader#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things/reader#billy hargrove#stranger things#stranger things 2#stranger things 3#stranger things 4#reader insert#fanfic#fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#billy hargrove fanfic#billy hargrove fanfics#billy hargrove fanfiction
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Wait, isn't "anti" stuff more like "anti-pedophilia" and stuff? Like, you have a point about anti-porn attitudes, but from what I've heard just "anti" on its own means against stuff like kid porn and incest porn and legitimately f*cked up sh*t like that.
Okay! So this, I think, is actually a great example of what I was talking about, and a really useful thing to understand. (CW rape, child abuse, etc)
Smarter people than me have written much better essays about why policing thoughtcrimes is a bad road to go down, and I will probably reblog some of them next time they cross my dash for more context. What I want to talk about is the trigger mechanism, the ‘oh, this looks like danger!!!’ immune response in how we look at different kinds of porn, and how that applies to anti culture.
Here’s the thing: I am anti-pedophilia. I think that, for most people, that’s a stance that largely goes without saying! Adults who prey on children are bad. I’m also against incest; relatives who prey on their family members are bad. Above all I oppose rape. Sexual predation of any kind is bad. In fact, I’d say that’s the most important item on the list. There is plenty of room to argue about where the lines are between ‘adult’ and ‘child’ and how teenagers fit in the middle, and there’s plenty of room to get historical about the lines between ethically terrible incest, distasteful-but-bearable “aristocratic inbreeding” between distant cousins, and the kind of consanguinity that tends to develop in a small town where everyone’s vaguely related to everyone else by now anyway. The core of the issue is consent, and it has always been consent. Pedophilia and incest are horrific because they are rape scenarios where the abuser has far more power and their victim far fewer resources to cope, both practically and emotionally; because harm to children is, to us as a culture, worse than harm to adults, for a lot of very valid reasons; and because they constitute betrayal of trust the victim should have been able to put in their abuser as well as rape--but they are all rape scenarios, and that’s why they’re awful.
These things are bad. It is good for us to have a social immune response system that recognizes these things when they’re happening and insists we step in. That is a good thing to develop! It helps us, as a society. It can help the people being victimized. It’s the same reason educators and childcare workers in the US are all mandated reporters, why we do background checks on people working near kids. These things happen, and they’re terrible, and it’s good that we try to be aware and prepared for them. (Though obviously studies show we’re a lot less good at protecting the vulnerable than we’d like to pretend we are.)
The question is: why does that same social immune response trigger, and trigger so angrily, in response to fiction?
Anti culture is fundamentally an expression of that social immune response. Specifically, it’s that social immune response when it is set off by a situation that, while it has some similarities to the very bad real-life crime of sexual predation including pedophilia and incest, is in and of itself harmless.
If you’re instinct is to flare up in anger or dismissiveness because I’m calling these things harmless, I want to ask you to just take a deep breath and bear with me for a bit longer. What you’re feeling right now is an allergic reaction.
Humans tell and read and listen to stories about “legitimately fucked up shit” all the time. It’s part of the human condition. It’s part of how we process those things happening, not just to use, but to other people in the world around us. It’s part of how we process completely unrelated fucked-up shit, playing with fears and furies and insecurities that we all have, through so may layers of fiction that we don’t even recognize them any more, playing with power dynamics in metaphor and making characters suffer for fun. Aside from the fact that literally all stories do this to some extent or another; aside from the fact that drawing lines between ‘ok that’s good storytelling’ and ‘that’s too fucked-up to write about’ is arbitrary, subjective, and dangerous in its own right; aside from all of that, these stories are stories. All of them.
Even the ones about rape, about incest, about pedophilia. They’re words on a page. No real children were harmed, touched, or even glanced at in the making of this work of fiction. This story, pornographic though it may be, is part of a conversation between consenting adults. (And if a teenager lies about their age to consent, that is a different problem altogether.)
Stories in and of themselves, no matter what they’re about, are no more dangerous than a crate full of oranges. Which is to say: utterly harmless, unless all you have to eat is oranges, all day every day, and you find yourself dying slowly of nutrient deficiency--which is why representation matters. Or unless someone wields one deliberately, violently, as a tool to cause harm, and someone gets acid in their eye--which is the fault of the person holding the orange. And unless you happen to be allergic to citrus.
The key here is this twofold understanding: First, the thing that hurts you can also have value to others. Real, legitimate value. Whether you’ve undergone trauma and certain story elements are straight-up PTSD triggers or you just don’t like orange juice, that story, those tropes, that crate of oranges may be somewhere between icky and fundamentally abhorrent--but we understand that that is still your reaction. Even if you don’t understand how anybody could ever enjoy it; even if every single person you surround yourself with is as sensitive and disgusted and itchy about this thing that makes your eyes hurt and your throat stop working as you; that doesn’t make it true for everyone. That doesn’t make oranges poisonous. No real children were involved in the writing of this story. It is words on a page.
But, secondly: the thing that has value to others can also hurt you. Just because a story isn’t inherently poison doesn’t mean it can’t cause you, personally, pain. That’s what a PTSD trigger is: an allergic reaction, psychological anaphylaxis, a brain that’s trying so hard to protect its own from a threat that isn’t actually present (but was once, and the brain is trained to respond) that it causes far more harm and misery than the trigger itself possibly could. And no, it’s not just people with PTSD who sometimes get hurt by stories. There are many, many ways a story can poke the part of your brain that says, this is Bad, I don’t like this, I don’t want to be here. The story is still, always, every time, pixels on a screen and ink on paper. The story causes no physical harm. But it can poke your brain into misery, it can stir up your emotions, it can make you want to cringe and run away. It can make you want to scream and fight and go after the author who brought this thing into existence. It can make you hurt.
This is an allergic reaction. This is your brain and body, your reflexes and instincts, trying to protect you from something that isn’t really happening. And just like a literal allergic reaction, it can do actual harm to you if it gets set off. This is real. The fact that stories can upset you to the point of pain and mental/emotional injury is real, even though it’s coming from your own brain and not the story itself. There are stories you shouldn’t read. There are stories I shouldn’t read, regret reading, will never read, because they hurt me. That doesn’t mean they’re the same stories that would hurt you. That doesn’t mean they don’t have value.
And, finally:
If getting upset about stories is fundamentally an individual person’s allergic reaction, their brain freaking out and firing off painful survival instincts in the face of a thing that isn’t, in and of itself, a threat? Then the anti movement is a cultural allergic reaction.
Fandom as a whole has a pretty active immune system, which doesn’t mean we have a good immune system. We try very hard to be aware of all the viruses and -isms and abuse and manipulation and cruelty, both systematic and individual, that exists around and within our community. We’re primed and ready to shout about things at all times. The anti movement is that system, that culture, screaming and shouting and fighting at a harmless thing on a grand scale. It wants to stop that thing, that scary awful thing that trips all of its well-primed danger sensors, at all costs. It’ll swell up and block off our airways (our archives) if it has to. It’ll turn on the body it came from. It’s scared and protective and trying to fight, and it’s ready to fight and destroy itself.
Luckily, fans and fanfic and fandom and fan culture are a lot bigger and older than they often get credit for, and it’s not like these cultural allergies are anything new. We could talk about shippers and slashers in the X-Files fandom in the 90s. We could talk about the birth of fandom in the days of Star Trek. We could talk about censorship and book burning going back centuries. We survived that and we’ll survive this, too.
But god, does the anti movement my throat and eyes itch. Man is it irritating, and sometimes a little suffocating, to realize how many stories just aren’t getting told out of fear of what the antis will say. And that’s the real danger, I think. What are we losing that would have so much value to someone? What are we missing out?
#fandom#anti culture#anti-anti#I guess?#asked and answered#you are not WRONG or BAD or BROKEN if a story hurt you#but neither is the story#Anonymous#anti discourse day
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moving in — seijoh 4 x gn! reader
it’s been exactly two weeks since you’ve made the decision of moving in with your best friends, and so far, everything’s been a bit better than you expected.
when the idea was first pitched to you, you admit, you thought it was a very poorly written out joke shared over a few beers and the pitiful nostalgia of graduating— you were wrong.
they were alarmingly serious about this.
“just a few months ‘til we all head off for college.” hanamaki told you, his arm casually over your shoulder and you’ve known him long enough to know that pushing him off is futile.
“then do it without me.” you said, a lazy smile on your face as you continued to walk. “i’ll visit literally every day.”
“no, you won’t,” matsukawa said, his words laced with a soft chuckle, “you don’t ever go anywhere without being physically dragged off.”
“you don’t understand,” you smiled, “i have such a lovely room.”
iwaizumi fell next to you, his voice blunt, “you can have the biggest room.”
“that’s not entirely better.” you shrugged.
“at least think about it,” oikawa told you, his charming smile coating his tone and you found a bit of warmth in the reserved gaze you realize he only had for you, “for me.”
“as if that’s the selling point, shittykawa!”
“i am always the selling point, iwa-chan!”
you ignored their usual banter, moving away from the four as you quickened your steps and you sighed. “i’ll think about it.”
you don’t miss the shared grins they all give each other, knowing you well enough to understand that they’ve successfully wore you down and before you knew it, you were signing a lease to a four bedroom loft that you were lucky enough to afford.
it didn’t feel weird or anything, you’ve known these guys since forever and more, really the only problem you’ve had with this was the fact that you knew how much of a slob they’d all be to live with — not that you were any better — but hey, surely you were neater than four sweaty athletes.
which brings you to where you are now; just a few weeks after graduating from aoba johsai and barely even a few days since getting comfortable in your new temporary apartment.
you figured it was better than you expected.
hanamaki’s nice to keep around. he’s almost always just lounging in front of the tv, sometimes a controller in his hands, most of the time, his fingers running through his short trimmed hair as he shifts over numerous college application essays.
you’ve found yourself waking up at three am a few times to get yourself a cup of water only to see him to have fallen asleep on the coffee table with folders and envelopes around him.
sometimes you’d sit with him, sometimes you’d wake him up to help him trudge to his bed. either way, he’d always end up pulling your head close, giving you a quick kiss on the temple as he sleepily mumbles something along the lines of “thank you” or “good night”.
iwaizumi’s somewhat the same; buried in college prep and sorting through plane tickets as he made the ever so impressive decision to take his future abroad. you’d told him numerous times how proud he made you and he’d always give you back the warm grin he seemed to have reserved just for you.
he isn’t the last one you see off to bed, but he’s always the first to get up in the morning. no matter what time you wake up, he’s already there in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee (much to your dismay since his blend is a tad bit bitter to your liking but you’ve never had the heart to tell him that).
(though truth be told, ever since iwaizumi found out you woke up at the crack of dawn, he’d begrudgingly fallen into the habit of waking up before you just so he could make you coffee before seeing you off for the day.
he hates waking up that early.
but he does like the smile you give him when you walk out the door.)
you spend the most time with matsukawa. his schedule was freer than the rest of the boys so if you ever needed to go anywhere, he’d already be there to insist that he came with you.
he’d pick you up from your day job, a lazy grin encasing his face the minute he sees you from the car window— you looked tired, worn out from the ruthless retail, and though he couldn’t say that to your face, he sure is glad he’d have an excuse to take you for coffee before heading home.
oikawa’s the busiest. his taxing schedule now so much worse after his decision to go to argentina. (you told him you’d miss him, he told you you didn’t have to, and begged you to try and fit in his luggage.) all that aside, you barely got to see him; you’d wake up finding him already gone for the day, and come home to him passed out on the couch.
some nights he’d come home later than you, too tired to know which is left or right, and more than once, he’d end up in your room, clocking out the second he crashes on your bed.
you don’t push him off, you never had the heart to. you missed him. not that you’d ever say it to his face, but he hasn’t even left for college and you were already missing him.
it’s a sunday morning— one of the few times a week all of you had a free day, and normally you’d all just end up sleeping in, most days you’d get up and enjoy breakfast with the other four, but when the bed felt too warm and too peaceful, you’d rather just waste the day away in your room.
a pair of arms pull you out of your sleep, your head softly falling against someone’s chest and you blink— you went to bed alone last night.
“what the hell, shittykawa!” you yell, sitting up and pushing him off of you.
oikawa groans, having just been brutally woken up, he pouts, “... you spend too much time with iwa-chan, you sound exactly like him.”
“go sleep in your own room!”
“but — you have the softest bed!”
“no?” matsukawa says, leaning on your door frame looking like he’d just woken up. his voice is groggy, almost annoyed, “i have the softest bed.”
oikawa pushes you away, ignoring your groans as he laid back on your mattress and he says, smile wide, “that’s not true— feel this.”
matsukawa narrows his eyes, walking up to him without even acknowledging your constant complaints of ‘no! do not feel this, go away!’
he sits on the edge of your bed, taking a second before falling on his back and taking in your white comforters.
“what the fuck?” he says, “what the hell, why do you have the softest bed?”
“because i’m me.” you tell them both, rolling your eyes as you realize that you probably won’t be getting your bed back anytime soon.
hanamaki walks in barely a moment later, his hand tiredly rubbing his left eye as he yawns away the last of his sleep.
he blinks, unsure what to make out of the scene in front of him. matsukawa and oikawa pulled on your duvet, pushing each other off every second as they fought on who got a bigger part of the blanket, and you, well — you had your head propped up on your headboard, muttering under your breath as you tried to push the two off your mattress.
“what’s going on?” he asks, a smile already forming on his face as he recognized the early morning chatter.
you look up, eyes brightening at the sight of hanamaki, he was going to help you.
“makki! my love!” you yelped, “get them out of my room, please.”
“no. makki will not.” matsukawa grins, “did you know this is the softest bed in the apartment?”
hanamaki frowns, “i have the softest bed in the apartment.”
oikawa grins, “feel this!”
you take it back. oikawa tooru might not make it to argentina after all, not when you were going to kill him in cold blood after this.
before you could even protest, oikawa pushes you more to the side, clearing some space for hanamaki who (so traitorously) plopped down on his side beside you.
“what the fuck,” he says, eyes widening as he moved around for a more comfortable position.
matsukawa nods, “that’s what i said too.”
“why do you have the softest bed?” oikawa groans, “we’re the ones who play volleyball— we’re basically sore all the time.”
you blink, “i was sleeping.”
they ignore you.
“you want the bed?” you ask, getting up from your mattress, and you glare. “fine. keep it.”
“wait, we were just joki—”
you ignore what they were going to say, slamming your door on your way out, and you curse under your breath every step of the way to the room right across from yours.
iwaizumi’s room. somewhere cold, peaceful, quiet. you ought to remind him to keep his door locked, but right now, as you stood by his doorway, drowsy and almost desperate to go back to sleep, you’re thankful he doesn’t.
you don’t say another word, walking directly up to his bedside and plopping down on the open space next to him.
he stirs, and you take his movement with a sigh.
“move.” you tell him, a pillow in hand and he looks up at you with sleep plastered on his face.
iwaizumi does as you say, moving deeper into his side and he yawns, “what’re you doing?”
“we are going to sleep.” you tell him, snuggling deeper in his covers as you got yourself comfortable.
you look at him, “unless you want to join those three idiots outside.”
iwaizumi ignores the warmth coming up on his face, pushing his pulsing heart aside, he shrugs, throwing an arm over you, and he mutters, “not even gonna ask what happened.”
(you fall back asleep quick after that, but that doesn’t last long as iwaizumi’s door opens again, oikawa going on and on with complaints about how iwaizumi was obviously your favorite, matsukawa barely caring as he pushes past him and just crashes in between you both and hanamaki declaring a dog pile as he so ruthlessly jumps on top of you.
it was horrible.
you wouldn’t have it any other way with them.)
#PART 1?????? MAYBE LOL#SEIJOH 4 I LOVE THEM#HANAMAKI MY KING#x reader#fluff#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#imagines#hq!!#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#seijoh 4 x reader#oikawa tooru#oikawa#hanamaki takahiro#hanamaki#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi#matsukawa issei#matsukawa#oikawa x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#hanamaki takahiro x reader#hanamaki x reader#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi hajime x reader#matsukawa issei x reader#matsukawa x reader
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hey! i don’t know if i sent this before but could you write a richie x reader where reader protects the losers from bowers? and she gets injured but doesn’t show it until she passes out?
bowers - richie tozier
↳ i hope this turned out alright for you nonnie! 🤍
↳ content warnings - violence, bullying, injury mention, blood, swearing, sex jokes, aged up losers.
↳ 3.5k word count
↳ masterlists
@bucky-j-barnes @mikewheelerc join my tag list
y/n decided that she absolutely detested her english teacher.
it was one of the last days of school before summer, and yet she’d been kept back for an extra hour to tutor some asshole in her class who hadn’t even been bothered to read their set text for that month (to be fair, richie also hadn’t read the text, but she supposed he wasn’t as much of an asshole because she loved him. boyfriend perks or some shit. and she also wasn’t staying back to tutor him, too). so whilst the rest of the losers had been let out of school she had to wait until she could catch up with them after. so she hated her english teacher and by extension the idiot that she had to tutor.
she’d had one good tutoring experience, and that was because richie genuinely needed help writing a history paper. it was only good because they got ten minutes in before they forgot the essay completely and ended up making out in his bedroom for the rest of the “tutor session”. richie had said they spent their time well and he didn’t regret it when his paper was graded poorly, and y/n smacked the back of his head. it was his fault they ended up making out in the first place. obviously.
so when four o’clock rolled around y/n left the practically empty school with a scowl on her face. her bike - usually surrounded by the bikes of the rest of the losers - stood alone as she walked towards it and unlocked the bike chain before she got on and rode off away from the school. richie had said to find them by the clubhouse, but as much as she loved him, she took stan’s word that they’d probably be by the local park instead. stan usually had the best idea of what was going on.
after a little while of peddling through derry y/n found herself approaching the park with a sigh of relief. she was tired and honestly wouldn’t mind listening to richie and eddie bickering like an old married couple for the next however long. she’d have preferred it to tutoring the asshole. though as she came to the edge of the street she screeched her bike to a stop, spotting the losers on the other side of the street with bowers in front of them.
from where she was stood she couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but she could see richie stood right in front of bowers yelling something about “shouldn’t you be off blowing your cousin” and beverly stood beside him, hands on her hips as she glared bowers down. bill was stood behind richie, trying (and failing) to get him to back down, with eddie on his other side with an inhaler in hand. stan stood shuffling on his feet nervously beside mike, whilst ben was keeping an eye on beverly.
y/n got off of her bike and stood it up against the wall of some building beside her as she frowned at the scene. she hurriedly searched henry’s hands for any sign of his knife and was thoroughly surprised when she didn’t see it. until she noticed it peeking out from his back pocket.
memories of seeing ben’s scar on his stomach for the first time made her glower at the back of henry’s head, angry at the thought of him hurting any of the other losers again.
she spotted an empty glass bottle on the floor and without thinking lifted it up and hurled it through the air towards bowers. it shattered against his upper back and the shouting went silent as they all turned to face her, bowers with a murderous glare on his face.
“hey bowers!” she shouted, hands on her hips, matching bev’s stance. “what’s it gonna take for you to chop that mullet off, dude? shit’s fuckin’ ugly man!”
although y/n wasn’t completely alike her boyfriend (mostly in the sense that she could calm down if she wanted to, and richie was constantly at a state of maximum energy at any given point) they were alike in their mannerisms if y/n really got going. she maybe even had bigger balls than he did, as stan once pointed out. she didn’t shy away from conflict - she probably ended up making it worse sometimes, to be honest.
she didn’t look away from bowers but she could feel eight pairs of eyes on her. though the death glare that she was defiantly staring back at was definitely the strongest. she’d maybe even be a little bit scared if she wasn’t too pissed off to care.
as bowers started crossing the street towards her, shouting nasty and horrible things her way, y/n sent a look towards stan and bill and nodded in the opposite direction. they needed to get the losers away before it kicked off with bowers, because she knew that richie and bev would be eager to get themselves involved too. the whole point of distracting bowers was so they wouldn’t be.
stan and bill had hands on the other losers arms, and from where she was stood she heard something close to “she’ll lose him then meet us around the corner“. once she was sure that the boys had it covered she faced henry again, stepping back a little as he got closer though she didn’t lose her glare.
“what the fuck are you playing at?” bowers spat, stopping directly in front of her. she could see small shards of glass sticking in his hair and inwardly smirked to herself.
“the bully act is a little old, isn’t it? you’re pathetic.” she stood her ground with as much ferocity he had, momentarily forgetting about the knife he had, though it was quickly brought to her attention when it was taken out of his back pocket and the tip was pointed at her.
y/n stumbled back a little on instinct, though tried to keep her stance the same. bowers was slowly closing in on her - she only had so much pavement left behind her before a wall. though just as he raised it to send a slash her way, she spotted blue lights in the distance and smirked.
“i’d watch it, bowers,” she nodded in the direction of the sheriff’s cruiser, knowing fully well that his father was in the car. “wouldn’t want daddy catching you with a big-boy blade.”
the cop car drove right down their street and past them, and y/n thought that it would be okay to turn and walk away with a final gesture of her middle finger his way.
big mistake.
she got a few steps away as the cruiser went down the street, though she didn’t take into account that bowers might come at her again. just as she glanced down the street, wondering what side street the losers could have taken to get away, she felt a hand grab the strap of her backpack and yanked her backwards onto the floor, winding her with a wheeze as she landed on the pavement. as she tried to forcefully drag in a breath of air she could see bowers towered over her, blade still in hand, and panicked. he had a fucking knife and she was laying on her back, defenceless.
her hand reached out beside her to grab the first thing she could on the floor and when her fingers circled around one of the larger shards of glass from the bottle she threw mere minutes before she swiped at him with it, taking his moment of leaning back away from it to scramble up to her feet.
“the fuck is your problem, man?” she wheezed, still somewhat winded, now sounding like eddie. she could feel her heart beating out of her chest, almost painfully thumping against her ribcage.
instead of an answer bowers pushed her back again and she landed on the floor once more, the shard of glass falling from her hand. breathing through her teeth, knowing she didn’t have enough time to stand up again since bowers was so close, she rolled onto her stomach to reach and grab the shard of glass, planning to turn back towards bowers to defend herself.
y/n misjudged how long that would take, because before she could turn back around she felt a sudden pain to the back of her leg, along with the sound of her jeans tearing. fuck, did he cut her? if he did he probably didn’t do it very deep because it didn’t hurt terribly bad. y/n still yelped in surprise, though, and kicked him away before she got to her feet again, glass in hand again.
the knife he was holding was coated in blood and it made her feel sick to stare at him, a sadistic fucking smile on his face. y/n would honestly rather have tea with michael meyers over that.
thinking on her feet she threw the glass at him and managed to hit him in the face. bowers groaned in pain and immediately covered the spot with his hand, and y/n wasted no time in turning to run away from him.
through being winded twice the drags of air she took in were audible and wheezy, hurting her throat and chest with every intake of breath. she debated on tackling eddie for his inhaler when she saw him. her shoes slapped against the pavement loudly as she ran down the street and down the first alleyway she saw, hoping the losers were somewhere close. she could already feel herself tiering, and she didn’t want bowers catching up to her again when she had less energy. she’d be much worse off.
thankfully the losers were quite literally right in front her, as when she had turned to run down another side street she collided with richie and almost sent them both tumbling down, if not for mike and ben who managed to hold the both of them up.
“fucking hell-“ she was still wheezing, gripping onto richie’s ugly shirt in tight fists once she was back on her feet. “are you guys okay?”
“we should be asking you that, holy fuck,” richie’s eyes were wide as he held onto her arms to keep her steady. “you sound like eddie.” he added, ignoring the complaint behind his back at the comment.
with richie keeping his hands on her arms bev rubbed her back from where she was stood on her left side, eyes kept on her face. y/n had momentarily forgotten about the cut on her leg because the rush of adrenaline she was feeling kept her from noticing it, and she was wearing black jeans so the blood wouldn’t really show on the material.
“i’m okay,” she nodded, breathing slowly but surely becoming an easier task as she continued to hang off of richie’s shirt, which he seemed like he didn’t mind. “i’m fine.”
“badass taking on bowers like that,” eddie commented, earning a chuckle from the rest of the losers. “i don’t think anybody else would have actually done it.”
“hey!” richie complained, turning to face eddie though he kept a hand on y/n’s arm. “i totally could have done that.”
“no offence rich, but i do have bigger balls than you.” y/n poked him in the chest and earned a playful glare in return.
as richie and eddie started arguing like usual y/n blinked a few times. the adrenaline was wearing off, and the supposed scratch on the back of her leg grew more and more painful the longer she stood there. she grimaced, eyebrows furrowing slightly as she inhaled deeply through her nose. the back of her thigh felt oddly warm, like warm water was running down her leg, though she immediately dismissed the idea that it was blood. no, she’d know if it was that serious. she couldn’t have run all that way with a deep cut in her leg, could she?
“y/n?” she blinked a few times and looked up, meeting stan’s concerned gaze in front of her, soon followed by the rest of the losers taking suit. “are you okay?”
“yeah,” she exhaled deeply, attempting to step forwards, though the movement was so wobbly that immediately richie grabbed one of her forearms to keep her steady. “just peachy, stan-the-man. i think i just need to sit down…” she attempted to step forwards again, though this time the wobbling was more prominent, and she fell right towards stanley as her eyes rolled back.
-
“fuck!” richie had immediately reached forwards in the attempt to catch her before she fell on stanley, and with the help of stan and mike he managed to lower her to the floor.
“oh my god!” eddie was shrill with panic, taking in worried breaths already. “bowers killed y/n!”
“she’s not dead you fucking idiot!” stan yelled back, though his face was pale with worry too.
richie tried to block the bickering out when bev and mike joined too as he crouched beside her, hands a little shaky as he tried to check her over for any injuries, ben doing the same from where he stood. he couldn’t see anything, though a puddle of blood forming underneath her left thigh spoke for itself, and immediately he was panicking too.
“fuck! eddie her leg!” richie was shouting too, hoping eddie knew something about what the fuck was going on due to his extensive medical knowledge.
eddie crouched on the floor beside her leg, gritting his teeth to hold back the willing heave from the sight of blood as he tried to see what had happened. with the help of bev who lifted her leg up, eddie gasped and almost made richie go into cardiac arrest.
“what?! what is it?! is her leg falling off or something?!” now he was sounding like eddie.
“bowers cut her-“ eddie almost heaved again though swallowed it down to speak again. “it’s bad. she needs to get to the hospital she’s losing a fuck ton of blood.”
“fuck-“ richie felt nauseous with worry, and his hands shook as one moved to her cheek, shaking her slightly as if she would wake up. when she continued just to lay there he pulled off his shirt with trembling fingers and leaned over her body towards her leg. “she needs something tied to stop the blood flow, right?” he spoke quickly as he looked up at eddie, who had his hands clamped over his mouth as he tried to keep from throwing up. “RIGHT?” he yelled, impatient.
eddie nodded frantically as his hand dug into his fanny pack for his inhaler and richie wasted no time in wrapping his shirt around her leg, and tied a knot tightly above the cut, not bothered by the blood staining it. once it was tied beverly lowered her leg back down to the floor.
all of the losers had the same sort of expression on their faces; shock. whether it was shown through wheezing like eddie or standing as still as a statue like stan, they all had the same almost ghostly look to their expression.
“there’s a phone booth down the street, i’ll go call an ambulance.” bev announced before she took off running in the direction of the phone.
richie sat back on his heels, pretending his hands weren’t stained with his girlfriends blood as he took her hand and sat it in her lap. he could feel his heart thumping against his ribs and just prayed that the ambulance would get there soon.
-
y/n blinked almost furiously under the sudden harsh light, it hurt her head to look at it. the bed she was laying in was uncomfortable and the room smelt like disinfectant. eddie better not have cleaned my room again, she thought. the last time he had done it was because she had a stomach bug and “the germs could spread and get everyone sick!“, so she didn’t see why he had reason to do it now.
once her eyes had adjusted to the brightness of the room she glanced around and was suddenly taken aback by where she was; the hospital.
y/n immediately sat up, suddenly wide awake, though she flinched when she felt something grab her hand and turned to see what it was, thoughts of bowers and his blood-coated knife flashing in her mind. though she relaxed slightly when she saw richie sat there instead, his hand over hers.
“it’s not even summer yet and you’re already having adventures. look at you go.” his teasing voice filled the room, though she could see in his eyes that he wasn’t completely carefree like usual.
y/n smiled a little as she leaned back against the pillows of her bed and shrugged. “what can i say? i’m just way cooler than you.” she teased as she moved her fingers gently against his to link them together.
richie scoffed in mock offence though a moment later he’d leaned forwards, his other hand over their linked ones. “you feel okay?” his voice was soft and genuine, a tone she only ever heard from richie when they were alone.
she blinked a few times at the question, and suddenly the pain in her leg had registered and she winced. “my leg hurts.”
“i’d expect so after bowers fucking sliced you open,” richie grumbled. he looked angry and concerned and different. y/n rarely saw him so serious. “when i see him next i’m going to kill him.”
“no, rich,” y/n shook her head, frowning a little as she squeezed his hand a little firmer. “i’m okay. just leave it. it’ll get worse.”
richie sighed though nodded, his gaze focused on their interlocked hands. y/n waited another moment before she shuffled over on the bed (and grit her teeth to suppress the grunt of pain from moving her leg, which richie picked up on anyways) before she pat the bed beside her and tugged on richie’s arm. “in.”
“not the first time you’ve said that.” richie snorted as he stood up, and let go of her hand so he could climb onto the bed beside her. once he had settled comfortably against the pillows y/n tucked herself into his side, and closed her eyes once her head had dropped against his shoulder.
after a moment she could feel the tips of richie’s fingers dragging up and down her arm, tracing invisible patterns along her skin. his lips pressed to the crown of her head and in return she gently left a kiss to his collarbone with a quiet hum, though kept her eyes closed.
“you didn’t have to put yourself in harms away for us today,” richie mumbled. “i totally could have handled it.” he added jokingly, not able to stay serious for long.
“oh i’m sure,” y/n smirked slightly before she shook her head and sighed. “i saw the knife in his back pocket and thought of ben and what he did to him. i couldn’t imagine him doing that again to any of you. i’d do anything for you guys,” her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper, and when she looked up richie was already looking at her. “especially you.” she added, almost silent.
richie brought his tree hand up and brushed some hair out of his face as he looked at her, surprisingly not cracking a joke or even a smirk that time. instead his expression was soft; a rarity for sure. his gaze softened and he had a half-smile that made y/n almost swoon, despite being in a hospital bed.
“that means a lot,” richie told her genuinely. “i just don’t like seeing you get hurt, doll.”
“i know, but i’m okay.” she insisted, sitting up a little against his side as she looked at him.
“you’re almost okay,” he corrected, as his fingers tapped against the thigh of the leg that was hurt. “just don’t throw yourself in front of bowers for us again, okay?”
“‘kay. promise.” she smiled, and her eyes closed shut again when richie pressed a soft, loving kiss to her lips.
“as much as i’d love to enjoy this moment,” richie pulled away, his usual smirk back on his face. “eddie is probably outside going through his third inhaler, and stan’s hair probably dropped out from stress.”
y/n laughed and shook her head, though she knew richie really wasn’t far off.
almost as if the losers had heard them, the door opened so quickly and with so much force that it slammed against the wall beside it, revealing (surely) eddie hugging his inhaler and stan looking sick with stress, followed by the other losers.
“yo stan, you look like you just saw under eddie’s mom’s skirt.” richie called over, and immediately eddie was cursing at him as he stepped forwards.
y/n giggled to herself as she tucked against richie’a side, watching the usual bickering start up again. back to normal, she thought to herself.
#amber’s writing#richie tozier#richie tozier imagine#richie tozier fanfiction#richie tozier it#richie tozier x reader#richie tozier x you#the losers club#the losers club x reader#eddie kaspbrak#beverly marsh#stanley uris#bill denbrough#ben hanscom#mike hanlon#it chapter 1#it chapter one#it imagine#it fanfiction
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would you be willing to go more indepth on the TA au first kiss scene?
i'd be willing to apparently really really really fucking in-depth with the TA au first kiss scene it turns out.
(3.1k, no porn but a lil raunchy there at the end)
This is not the first time Obi-Wan has been over to Anakin’s house. At the start of the semester, back in August, Professor Skywalker had invited all of his TAs to dinner, to introduce himself to them outside of the classroom.
This is different, though. Obi-Wan’s alone as he dismounts from his bicycle and stands it up against the garage door. No one else will join them tonight. Anakin had only asked him over.
If Obi-Wan thinks about that too much, he’s not going to be able to ring the doorbell.
He’s already late as it is, having changed multiple times since Anakin had texted him. What does one wear to the house of one’s professor who one desperately wants to fuck?
Lingerie, obviously. Check.
But on top of that?
He’d gone with a navy blue sweater over a simple t-shirt and jeans. Even still, when Anakin opens the door, he feels immediately overdressed. Anakin’s only wearing a black tank top and dark gray sweatpants that cinch at the ankle.
Alright. It’s official. Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s going to survive the night.
“Obi, great!” Professor Skywalker exclaims, ushering him in and out of the cold November air. “I was worried you’d slipped on ice riding over here. It really is starting to get dangerous to bike in this sort of weather.” His tone becomes disapproving, something that absolutely doesn’t make Obi-Wan’s cock twitch in his pants. “I’ve seen your tires, they’re not up to the way it gets icy up here.”
Obi-Wan could say that he knows the weather better than Professor Skywalker, seeing as how he’s been a student at the same school for going on five years now, and Professor Skywalker still has partially-unpacked moving boxes sitting around his living room.
But what he says instead is, “Yes, Professor,” which makes Anakin freeze for a second before he hurries into motion again.
It’s interesting, is all.
“I told you to call me Anakin, Obi-Wan,” Anakin says sharply, turning away. Alright, yes. Obi-Wan’s body does react to that tone.
“Sorry, Professor,” Obi-Wan murmurs with a half-smile when he sees the way Anakin’s back stiffens for a second.
“You must think I have the patience of a saint,” Anakin mutters to himself. Louder, he says, “Shoes off and do you want some tea?”
Obi-Wan bends down to start untying his shoes, perking up at the mention of tea. “You have tea? I’ve never seen you drink tea on campus.”
“I have rooibos and earl grey,” Anakin shouts from the kitchen. Obi-Wan stands, shoeless, to follow him curiously, looking around the house as he goes. The entrance hallway opens up into the living room, which is sunken into the floor. There’s a dining room table a few feet from the couch, positioned next to a window looking into the kitchen.
There are still moving boxes scattered around, even though it’s already mid-November.
“Earl grey, thank you,” Obi-Wan says absently, still taking in Anakin’s home. Gently he lays his messenger bag on the table next to Anakin’s laptop and retrieves the papers he’s been invited over here to grade. When the kettle goes off, he peers through the window to watch Anakin assemble his cup. “Oh, that’s my favorite brand,” he says happily. Anakin flushes and busies himself putting away the apparently incriminating boxes of tea.
“What a coincidence,” Anakin replies, handing the cup to him through the window. Obi-Wan wraps his cold hands around the mug and allows the warmth to travel through his body. He’d forgotten his gloves, an idiotic move that can only be blamed on his nerves for the night.
But now that he’s here, he suddenly doesn’t feel quite so nervous anymore. It feels natural to sit with Anakin like this at his dining room table and grade their students’ work.
It feels right and scarily easy.
They get to work with little more chatter, as these papers are supposed to be handed back the next section class.
After one high score and two middling ones, Obi-Wan sets down his pen. “You still haven’t unpacked everything?” He says this observation like a question.
Anakin looks up at him from the paper in front of him and adjusts his glasses as he processes the words. “No, not really,” he agrees. “I never usually do, not until I find something that makes me want to stay in one place for a while.”
Obi-Wan’s hands tighten around his mug of tea. His voice comes out more strangled than he’d like. “You’re thinking of leaving?”
“It’s a temporary position, Obi,” Anakin says slowly, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the essay. “I’m renting this place from the school, but even then the lease is up in February.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t know what his heart is doing, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been in so much pain. Not to be dramatic or anything, but the thought of Anakin leaving as quickly as he’s blown into Obi-Wan’s life feels as if it can kill him.
“Oh,” is all he says. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”
Minutes later, Obi-Wan is staring at himself in the mirror, hands gripping the sink. He’s still reeling from the very real possibility that Anakin will leave in a few short months. That he’ll go to some other college in some other city and make everyone fall in love with him there as well, and Obi-Wan will never find out what it feels like to kiss him because he’d been too scared of breaking the rules or being rejected to try.
Resolve forms in his mind. If Anakin is looking for a reason to stay, Obi-Wan will give him one.
But Obi-Wan’s never really set about seducing a professor before, is the problem. He doesn’t know what Anakin likes in his partners, and he doesn’t know if he even really likes Obi-Wan at all. There are hints sometimes, certainly, the way he’ll stare at him in class, the casual way he’ll touch his lower back when they’re walking somewhere, all of his behavior that night at the bar near Halloween.
But there’s a difference between feeling arousal and acting on it. And there’s an even bigger difference between wanting someone once in your bed for the night and wanting someone enough to stick around town for a few years while they finish school.
So it’s not even seducing Anakin that is real problem here. It’s keeping him interested afterwards. And Obi-Wan needs to start now, before the semester ends. If he waits until January, he won’t have enough time before Anakin’s lease is up. Hell, he doesn’t even have enough time now, not really. He’d probably need four months alone just to get Anakin to look at him with more than dark, considering eyes.
Alright. Alright.
He’ll start with coffee tomorrow morning. He’ll go out there and finish grading papers with Anakin, and then tomorrow before class begins, he’ll bring Anakin a cup of coffee. It’s a start.
Anakin’s made a fair amount of progress by the time Obi-Wan exits the bathroom-cum-war council room. “Alright?” The professor looks up with a small furrow between his eyebrows.
He’s so gorgeous Obi-Wan almost gives up right then and there, but he’s never been a quitter.
“Alright,” he agrees, picking up his mug and carrying it to the kitchen. He’ll just add some more water and a little bit more milk and get started on the rest of the papers. The sooner he finishes, the sooner he can go home and start planning. The thought makes him excited and nervous all at once.
He glances up through the kitchen window just in time to see Anakin lean back in his chair and stretch his arms so far up that his tank top rides up enough that his tummy--or, well, defined abdominal muscles as it were--flashes into view.
Which, of course, makes Obi-Wan’s life flash before his eyes. He trips and then promptly curses when he rights himself but half the tea spills out over his sweater.
“Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s there immediately, as if he’s teleported from the table to the kitchen instead of gone around the normal way. “Are you alright? Are you burned?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Obi-Wan mutters, blushing furiously. His seduction of Anakin is never going to work if he keeps behaving like a clumsy idiot in front of the older man. “Just got on my sweater, it’s fine.”
Anakin’s hands grab at the hem of Obi-Wan’s sweater, and when he doesn’t protest, slowly drags it up and over his head, careful to keep the wet stain from his hair.
Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat at the look of intense concentration Anakin’s wearing, how dark his eyes are. It’s almost exactly what he wants, but it’s not enough because Anakin backs away quickly, sweater clutched in his hands. “I’ll get you one of mine,” he says gruffly, turning to leave the kitchen, but Obi-Wan stops him with a hand on his arm.
“It’s really fine, Anakin, I’m not cold.”
“You’re covered in goosebumps,” Anakin points out, laying his hand on Obi-Wan’s own arm.
Obi-Wan swallows and bites at his lip. “I’m not cold,” he promises. A part of him wants Anakin to hear what he’s not saying. A part of him is afraid he will.
But Anakin only nods jerkily once before exiting the kitchen and returning to his seat at the table. “You’ll tell me as soon as you feel so much as a slight chill,” he insists, picking up his glasses and resettling them on his face.
“Yes, Professor,” Obi-Wan murmurs as he sits down, just to watch Anakin’s jaw clench tightly for a second before relaxing.
They resume grading in silence, but this silence is tense. A different beast than the previous one.
Halfway through his sixth paper of the night, he furrows his eyebrows at a student’s paragraph. “Professor,” he says, standing and moving to lean over Anakin’s shoulder to show him the error. He places one of his hands delicately on Anakin’s skin, because he is a weak, weak man. “They’ve gotten this bit extremely wrong, but the paragraph after this one is basically the same thing but with the correct information. What, do you think it’s just an editing error?”
Anakin looks at the paper without saying anything.
Obi-Wan adjusts his position so he’s more leaning over next to him instead of behind him and points out the relevant sections. “Would you dock points, do you think?”
Anakin’s jaw bunches as his nostrils flare for several long seconds, before he seems to snap out of whatever had taken his mind away. “Take a few off, but for formatting not for content,” the professor decides.
Nodding in agreement, Obi-Wan stays where he is and makes a note in the margins. He looks up at Anakin when he feels his eyes rest heavily on him. “What?” he asks. “Do I have pen on my face?”
“Just haven’t seen you this dressed down before,” Anakin’s voice is incredibly low and the timbre of it makes a shiver run down Obi-Wan’s spine. “You’re always so buttoned-up in class.”
Obi-Wan wets his lips. Somehow the words that come out of his mouth are not ones he’s approved of saying. “That’s not true,” he says so quietly it’s almost a whisper. “I wouldn’t say I was buttoned-up at the bar.”
Anakin inhales sharply and he leans towards him with dark, dark eyes. “You were all dressed up then, weren’t you?” he murmurs. Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from swaying in Anakin’s direction, even if he wanted to.
Slowly, he nods, paper forgotten under his professor’s burning gaze.
“Do you still have it?” Anakin asks hoarsely. “I’ve been wondering what you did with that little dress for weeks now.”
“Didn’t keep it,” Obi-Wan replies honestly. His mouth dries incredibly fast when Anakin’s hand falls to his arm.
“You’ve got goosebumps again,” Anakin observes, rubbing a thumb over his skin. “Are you cold?”
“Not cold,” he whispers, moving closer than he’s ever dared. He’s terrified that if he speaks louder than he is now, the moment will be ruined. They’ll snap out of this, whatever this is, go back to grading papers, and then Obi-Wan will leave and tomorrow morning he’ll buy Anakin coffee and try to make himself come across as the perfect life partner for his professor.
But he wants this so much. He thinks they’re standing on the edge of something that could very well be amazing.
Anakin’s opening his mouth to say something, but Obi-Wan cuts him off. He wouldn’t be able to hear it over his pounding heart anyway. “I kept the lingerie though,” he says. “Do you want to see them, Professor?”
For a second, those words and all they imply hang in the scant few inches between them.
Then, “Jesus fucking Christ, baby,” Anakin groans, sounding torn to shreds. He pushes his chair back so fast that Obi-Wan stumbles.
Anakin’s hands are there to catch him and pull him into his arms, mouth descending onto his.
Obi-Wan moans into the kiss immediately, wrapping his arms around Anakin’s neck and tugging their bodies as close together as he can get them, making helpless little noises he’s never made before in his life. Anakin’s not quiet either, not as his hands roam down from Obi-Wan’s waist to trace the outline of his ass before he grabs it and rocks them together. The pleasure skyrockets when their bulges grind against each other, and Obi-Wan has to break the kiss just to gasp for air.
Feeling brave and desired and hot, Obi-Wan grabs one of Anakin’s hands and slips it down the waistline of his pants, just far enough that he can feel the spread of lace over his skin.
“Baby,” Anakin groans again, rubbing his thumb over the cheap silk of the Halloween costume’s panties. “Baby, fuck.”
Obi-Wan pushes back into the hand, trying to convey how much Anakin really can fuck him, should he want. Obi-Wan wants.
Before he can say anything though, Anakin’s lips claim his again and his tongue fucks aggressively into his mouth. It feels so good, especially when Anakin scratches up the skin of his back gently with one hand. The touch has Obi-Wan turning pliant and weak in the knees, something Anakin must realize because he edges Obi-Wan closer and closer to the table before sweeping the contents off with one hand and lifting him up with the other.
He spreads his legs automatically and for a second everything is perfect when Anakin comes to stand between them, mouth biting searing kisses into his neck while Obi-Wan tries to keep rubbing their pelvises together. He throws his head back and to the side with a high moan, mouth falling open as he stares uncomprehendingly at the ceiling.
Does this mean he doesn’t have to buy Anakin coffee before class tomorrow?
The thought of school is like a bucket of ice water poured directly over his head. Almost frantically, he pushes at Anakin’s chest, trying to get space between them.
Anakin detaches himself from Obi-Wan’s skin with the utmost reluctance. His lips are red and wet.
But Obi-Wan needs to be responsible, and he’s currently sitting on his professor’s table, papers scattered on the floor around them. “Fuck, half of these weren’t stabled together,” he cries, hopping down and starting to pick up the students’ papers. “Shit, Professor--”
“You were just sucking on my tongue like a professional slut, Obi-Wan, I think you can call me Anakin,” Anakin bites out, working his jaw furiously as he watches him crawl around on all fours from above. The nerve of the man for causing the mess and not helping at all to clean it up!
Obi-Wan feels just petty enough that he pauses at one of the papers and arches his back, pushing his ass out and looking over his shoulder. “I thought you liked it when I called you professor, Professor,” he responds in what he hopes comes out sounding mostly sultry.
It seems to work if Anakin’s reaction is anything to go by. “Fucking hell, Obi-Wan,” the man snarls, but his sweatpants make the twitch of his cock impossible to miss.
“What a pair we make,” Obi-Wan says, just for the fun of torturing Anakin. “You’re not wearing any underwear and I’m wearing lingerie.”
He finishes with the papers and stands to stack them on the table.
“I think you should go,” Anakin grits out, watching Obi-Wan intently.
Obi-Wan’s heart stops for a second and he’s suddenly terrified he pushed too far, too fast, that Anakin hadn’t enjoyed the kiss, that he remembered he was too annoying to keep around, that--
“If you don’t go now, you’ll be spending the night in my bed, and I think we need to talk first,” his professor finishes gently, reaching out to rub his thumb over Obi-Wan’s lip.
Obi-Wan licks it immediately, and when no protest is made, brings it further into his mouth.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin sounds extremely pained.
Slowly, he drops his thumb from between his lips. There’s hardly a foot of space between them. It’s too far. It’s too close.
Anakin’s right. They do need to talk. And it shouldn’t happen tonight.
“Can I borrow a sweatshirt for the bike ride back?” he asks quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Only it’s cold outside and--”
And you smell really nice, he finishes in his head. Out loud, he says, “And I think I’d look good wearing something of yours, don’t you think, Professor?”
Anakin’s eyes narrow and his hands clench tightly into fists at his side. “I didn’t have you pegged as a brat.”
“You haven’t had me pegged at all yet,” Obi-Wan points out with a grin. As if magnetized, Anakin’s thumb comes up and digs into one of his dimples.
“I’ve wanted to lick these since the first time I saw you smile,” his professor whispers like they’re in a confessional.
It’s incredibly easy to reach out and trace one of the lines of Anakin’s octopus tattoo down his arm in return. “I’ve wanted to do the same with your tattoos for months now,” he admits. “Will you let me? After we talk? Will you let me put my mouth on you?”
His fingers dance across the front of Anakin’s sweats, before veering back up to more friendly territory.
Anakin’s eyes are dark with promise when he nods in response. “I’ll do more than let you, baby,” he growls. “I’ll put your mouth on me myself.”
Obi-Wan shivers.
No, he probably doesn’t need to buy Anakin coffee tomorrow before class.
But he probably will anyway. Just because the way Anakin’s looking at him makes him think the other man isn’t going to get much sleep tonight either, and it’s the least he can do.
#asks#ta au#obikin#i feel like obi-wan constantly getting and losing his confidence is really sexy of him actually#i mean jk i just wanted to write a lil minx obi-wan lol#enjoy <3
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Sapnap- face cam
Wc- 1987
Warnings- none (I think)
I've been up for almost 30 hours mainly because I was doing college homework all of last night and because my boyfriend Sapnap was streaming and being very loud which kept me up in the first place which was why I did my homework anyway. I love Sapnap to death but sometime he can be a little annoying but I put up with it.
Sapnap only got into bed at 4am and he's still asleep now at 11pm meanwhile since then I've finished a big essay, cleaned the apartment, done another essay and then made breakfast for myself which I'm eating now. I wish I could be this productive when I've had sleep but somehow it never works like that.
Eventually Sapnap came downstairs sauntering because he was still sleepy, some of us wish. He walked right over giving me a hug from behind as I washed some dishes and gave me a kiss on my cheek.
"Morning babe you alright?" He asked
"Yeah I'm good a little tired but I'll live" I replied
"Just to let you know I'll be streaming later" he said
He always tells me when he's streaming because his fans don't know about us and he doesn't want to accidentally reveal anything to protect me which is cute but it gets hard when he streams for hours on end and I need help with something. Sapnap is good about to it though if I really need help I either text him or message him on discord and he'll help but he sometimes doesn't read his messages.
I gave him some of what I made for breakfast and he sat down to eat it while I talked at him about college work that he pretends to care about. He's very supportive of all my college work and he'll let me get on with things if I have to but he will also talk about things with me if I want to. Thats one of the best things about Sapnap is his ability to adapt to how I'm feeling at any given moment and I like to think I'm at least ok at doing the same for him.
After breakfast Sapnap cleaned the rest of the dishes and let me take a shower which was nice and relaxing and woke me up a little bit as the cold water at the start hit my back, usually I would not be under the water as it warmed up but today I felt like I needed a shock to my system to get it going for another day. I had more homework and a lecture to do today so there was no chance for a nap until the evening when it's kind of pointless anyway.
After my shower I got dressed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt because it was comfy for sitting down all day in. Sapnap had got my laptop ready for me and had got me a glass for water which was sweet of him. My lecture was in about 2 minutes so I logged onto the class ready for it to start, when it did I put my headphones on so that Sapnap didn't have to listen to my teacher going on about whatever we were doing today, he always says he doesn't care but even I don't want to listen to it sometimes so there is no way he does.
As I tapped away making notes Sapnap put his hand on my knee rubbing his thumb in circles comfortingly. He does this all the time whether its sat on the sofa like right now or while we're driving somewhere but its safe to say that I love it, it lets me know he's there in a weird way it's like he's acknowledging my presence. At one point he got up and went to the kitchen and when he came back he had my favourite snack which he put between us so that we could share. What a lovely boyfriend he's being today, I'm starting to wonder what he thinks he's done that's he's trying to make up for.
My lecture finally finished after what seemed like and age so I went to get straight on with my last essay that needed submitting by the end of the month but Sapnap shut my laptop before I could get the document open, he grabbed my hand and pulled me up from the sofa and towards the door.
"Come on were going out for a walk" he said
"Why, I have an essay to work on" I whined
"You'll never leave the house if I don't drag you out so come on" he said handing me my shoes
I put them on and grabbed a jacket because according to the weather it was meant to be a little bit chilly out today, Sapnap grabbed the house keys and pushed me out the door onto the street. We don't often go out on walks because neither of us like leaving the house that much if we were to go out it would most likely be in the car to just go for a drive.
The two of us walked down the street holding hands and swinging them back and forth as we took steps forwards. Sapnap clearly had a good idea of where he wanted to go because he was making turns all over the place. Eventually we ended up at the target not that far from our place and we went in looking at everything like you do in target and we topped up on some snacks for a movie night soon.
We left with our snacks and Sapnap dragged me to the nearest park so we could sit outside and get a bit more fresh air. The nearest park is actually the one that we went to on one of our first dates so we have good memories there, on one of the benches by the duck pond is where we had our first kiss and many more after that.
I always love going back to that park with Sapnap because each time we reminisce on the past and talk about the future which seems to change each time we come here. We walked to the exact bench that we had our first kiss on and sat down looking at the scenery. It had changed quite a bit since the first time we were here, there used to be a little play park for kids in the distance but now thats gone and is replaced with a small flower garden instead.
The first time we came here and we talked about the future all we wanted was to still be together after we left for college which of course happened, then the next time we wanted to move in together which we did and now. I'm not really sure what the future holds for us but I'm sure it will be interesting.
"Wow its been so long since we came here we have changed so much and achieved everything that we wanted to" he said
"I know its so weird to think that our last goal was to move in together and now we have been living together for 5 months where do you think we will end up in the future?" I asked
"On man I have no idea but I would love to still be living together and maybe in a bigger place and maybe even be engaged" he said
This shocked me I never expected him to say that but I guess that is the next logical step for us to take in our relationship.
"I like the sound of that" I said
We went back home and Sapnap went to stream while I worked on my essay he didn't tell me how long he was going to stream for but it will probably be about 3 hours. So I sat down and got on with writing the last 15 pages of my essay which would probably take me the entire time he was streaming maybe longer.
My essay took me almost exactly 4 hours to do but when I tried to submit it it wouldn't upload which happens from time to time. I looked at the upload speed of the WiFi since Sapnap taught me how to do it and it was fine but I assumed that it was being used for something else. This problem has happened before when Sapnap is uploading a video so I assumed that was the issue.
It got up and walked to Sapnap’s streaming room waiting outside for a moment to double check that he wasn't still streaming, I waited a couple minutes and heard nothing so I knocked and went in.
As soon as I went in I saw that Sapnap was still streaming and his face cam was on which meant that I was now on his stream in front of however many people. I've never made such a stupid mistake especially one that outs my entire relationship, I just stood in shock not being able to move and get out of the shot. Sapnap had the exact same reaction his face was filled with shock and fear at the same time.
Nothing prepares you for the moment that you expose yourself live in front of probably 100,000 people or more who will record anything that happens. Nothing prepares you for the chaos that will ensue when you do the before mentioned thing and definitely nothing prepares you for the guilt you feel doing so.
"Um hi y/n" He said trying to make things less awkward
"Hey" I replied shyly
He motioned for me to come over because there was no point trying to hide this anymore since no one will believe anything we say now. I stood next to Sapnap luckily being short enough that I still fit in frame but he had obviously given up caring at this point because he pulled me down into his lap to sit while we talked to his chat. Again he did the thing where he rubs his thumb in a circle on my leg and this time it really was for comfort.
"Well chat this is y/n and shes my... girlfriend" he said
"Hi everyone" I said shyly
"Now chat I'm going to need you to be nice to her or I'll be angry because she is very precious to me" he said
His chat were going insane telling others to clip this and people getting way to excited about all of this and some were asking questions. The whole chat was going so incredibly fast that it was hard to read all the messages.
We answered some of the basic questions like how long we have been together and other things, people also asked if George and Dream knew which of course they did and they have made jokes about Sapnap having a girlfriend but no one ever took it too seriously. At one point dream joined the call and started mocking us for being stupid and exposing ourselves and he told some stories that he knew we wouldn't mind him saying which the chat enjoyed.
I started yawning more and more as I stayed on the stream because I wasn't keeping my mind busy my tiredness was taking over. I leant back into Sapnap to rest my head on his shoulder, he out his hand on my head running it through my hair which is very relaxing.
"Are you tired?" He asked
"No I'm fine I can stay awake" I said
"I don't want to hear it I know you've been awake for over 24 hours so you are going to sleep" he almost demanded
He put his arms around my waist and pulled me into a comfortable position where I closed my eyes and fell asleep almost right away forgetting that Sapnap was still streaming but it doesn't matter.
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Hello would you mind writing vets as a music band? And that fans suspect the “normal” relationship of head vocal Levi and bassist Hange? Sorry if my english isn’t writing properly at all.
Mikasa invites him to a No Name concert.
And it's like- whatever, right? Who cares? Jean certainly doesn't.
So what if the girl of his dreams asks him out on a date? It's not like he has been daydreaming about it for the past two years. So what if she offers to see his favorite band in the whole world? He doesn't even like them much. Sure, he knows all their songs by heart but- he doesn't listen to them that often. Only twice or thrice each day. And it's not like his closet hides an insane amount of their merchandise. That is between Jean, his closet and his mother.
He isn't nervous, he doesn't care about the upcoming date. At all. Most certainly, he doesn't spend literal days, obsessing over his outfit. And he obviously doesn't pester Sasha and Connie with questions on how to style his hair.
Most importantly, he doesn't imagine how it would feel to hold Mikasa's hand or maybe even go for a hug or a kiss-
Jean tries not to think about it, his heart starts to beat to fast, when he does, but when he doesn't think about Mikasa, he starts thinking about No Name and the little, tinie tiny fact that he's going to see them in person. That he's going to meet them and maybe even shake their hand, because Mikasa being the gorgeous goddess she is, got them tickets with access to a backstage. It didn't require any kind of effort from her side, since the famed, spectacularly, dreamy Levi Ackerman is Mikasa's cousin, but- Jean doesn't remember sharing his No Name obsession with Mikasa, for obvious reasons - he doesn't want to think that he likes her just because she's Levi Ackerman's cousin, Mikasa is great not because she's an Ackerman, but because she's Mikasa, but- but Jean is so, so grateful that he'll have the chance to see No Name in all their glory.
Of course, he is not at all nervous about meeting his favorite band in person. No, no, he doesn't lose sleep over it, his palms don't turn clammy. Sometimes he feels like he'll combust from anticipation, but he's fine, completely fine.
He just can't wait until that fated day will come.
---
When that day rolls around at last, Jean is cool. He's cool, calm, serene.
His hand is greasy from all the times he touched his slicked back hair, and he can't stop tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket, but- but he's cool.
The band that is currently playing isn't that bad - not nearly as talented and awesome, and hot as No Name, but still good. The crowd is bigger than Jean is comfortable with, but today it works in his favor because it prompts Mikasa to hold his hand. Maybe, he'll get that kiss after all. If he continues keeping his cool.
That proves to be just a little harder task when Mikasa announces that they reached the backstage.
Jean can't help it - he gawks around helplessly.
This is it, this is a place where miracles happen, where stars lounge and rest.
This is the place where he'll meet No Name.
Jean can't imagine how this meeting will transpire. Will they like him? Will they agree to make a photo? Will they give him an autograph? Will they think that he's a weirdo who is too obsessed with their music?
All of the above? None of the above?
Jean doesn't know.
There are so many things he wants to say. There are so many things he wants to ask - how can they play with those bandages on? How do they never trip during performances? What is their favorite song to play? What do they do in their free time? What is their favorite food? Are the rumors about Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe-
Okay, no, he probably shouldn't ask that last question, no matter how much he wants to know the answer. And he wants to, so, so much.
The thing is- there are many rumors about No Name. It's not surprising, they are young, famous and extremely hot. These rumors usually exclude the drummer, Mike Zacharias, who is already engaged with a very pretty blonde lady, their stylist. Although, there are some fans who speculate that the engagement is not true, and Mike actually dates their producer, one Erwin Smith, but- Jean usually ignores that type of fans, branding them as freaks.
Now, as far as everyone is aware, nor Levi Ackerman, neither Hange Zoe are involved in any kind of romantic relationships, and that's- that's where the juicy stuff begins.
There aren't many rumors about Hange - some say she's involved with Pieck, the band's make-up artist. Or their manager, Moblit Berner. Or an indie artist, Onyakopon. But that's where the list ends.
Levi Ackerman, however, oh he has a far longer list of lovers. Petra Ral, for example, a rising pop-star - young, talented and so pretty that it hurts. Or Erwin, although on that subject rumors wary - some say that Erwin is the one who got Levi in showbiz, some say that Erwin is his sugar daddy, some say that they're already engaged and even married. The rumors are as varied as they're wrong, in Jean's opinion. Most rumors about Levi are like that. There are even talks about his involvement with Yeager brothers - with the front man of the rival band, Zeke, and Jean's and Mikasa's classmate, Eren. Jean doesn't understand where these rumors even come from, as far as he's aware, Levi hates them both. But- but rumors still exist.
As stupid as they are.
Now, Jean has a different opinion, one that he spends nights defending in chats and forums. Yes, Levi Ackerman has a lover. And no, it's not Petra Ral, Erwin Smith or any of the Yeager brothers. It's Hange Zoe, No Name's bassist.
There are many reasons why he thinks so. Firstly, they are always together. And by always, Jean means always. In photoshoots they stand side by side, during performances they lean against each other, on all kinds of photos - from after-parties to official events, they always touch each other in some way. And that's not all. They spend their vacations together, they hang out at movies, restaurants, museums, their respective instagrams are full of the other's candid photos. And it's a known fact that they share an apartment. Honestly, how much more obvious it can get? Also Jean is pretty sure that one of the songs written by Levi is about Hange, and he has an entire essay, explaining why he's right. He prays to every saint known that Mikasa will never find it. He doesn't want his almost girlfriend to find out just how invested he is in the romantic life of her famous cousin.
As they walk further and further into the magical territory of the backstage, Jean tries to think of something cool to say, something laid-back and easy like 'hey, what's up, guys? I've listened to the couple of your songs, you're not that bad...'
Yes, he decides. That's a good way to start. A cool way to start.
And Jean is cool. And calm.
And- oh my god, there they are, the three of them, already in their costumes, just without the signature bandages. They look even cooler in person. They look even hotter and-
Mikasa squeezes his hand.
"If my asshole cousin says something awful, I'll punch him in the face for you."
God, that is so sweet. So Mikasa. He wouldn't be opposed to anyone getting a punch from her except- her gorgeous cousin. His pretty face should be protected at all costs.
However, as they approach, the face that charmed millions transforms, turning into a quite nasty scowl.
"So that's him?" Levi Ackerman asks (Jean's sick brain, even in that moment, can't help but note that Hange Zoe is standing right behind her band member, a hand laying on his shoulder). "That's the guy you're going crazy about?"
"Yes," Mikasa answers, and suddenly the air grows stiff. "Do you have a problem with that?"
The lines around Levi's mouth harden, and Jean tries to focus on Hange Zoe, while his mind prepares for something not at all pretty, but- Hange is smiling - not smirking, smiling. That is a good sign, right?
"Don't mind the Ackermans," she stage whispers to Jean. "Levi was actually very excited about meeting you."
Right now it's hard to imagine that dark (and still so handsome) face in the expression of excitement, but. Hange knows him a lot more, right?
"Oh and by the way," she giggles, and at the back of his mind Jean wonders if that's how angels sound like. "I'm Hange."
He almost blurts out 'I know' but- that'd be creepy? Or not? He can't decide so settles on a simple nod.
"Jean," he says, taking the offered hand in his. With his hand that isn't holding Mikasa's (they're holding hands, wow!), he shakes Hange's. It's unexpectedly calloused. But still warm and gentle. Not as nice as Mikasa's but... somewhere very close.
"And that is the one and only Levi Ackerman," Hange continues, gesturing to the man in question. "He only looks so scary. But actually," she winks and lowers her voice. "He's the biggest softie you'll ever meet."
The biggest softie Jean has ever met, practically snarls, baring his teeth. But the hand on his shoulder tightens and he instantly relaxes, scoffing in annoyance. Oh, so that's who Hange Zoe is? The one who tames the beast?
"You're not as revolting as her other dates," Levi says. Jean is pretty sure that it was meant as a compliment. "But if you dare to-"
"Oi," Mikasa's face becomes as stormy as her cousin's. "He won't."
"And even if he does," Hange smiles, so handsome and a little scary. "Mikasa knows what to do."
Jean gulps. He has seen Mikasa train that one time. He was very impressed, and a little bit scared. Also a lot aroused.
He knows with ironclad certainty that should Mikasa kick him... his face may not survive it.
"Hange, Levi," a gruff voice behind them calls. Jean lifts his eyes, mouth opening in shock as he sees him in the flash - the third member of Non Name, Mike Zacharius himself. In person... he is even more enormous than on photos. His shoulders are twice as wide as Jean's, and next to Hange and Levi, he looks almost like a giant. "We're starting in five."
"Oh!" Hange covers her mouth with a palm. "I haven't checked my guitar yet. Let's hurry, shorty!"
Hange dashes away instantly, Levi sighs and trudges after her. Mikasa tugs at Jean's hand as well, whispering that they need to go to their places.
Jean nods, absentmindedly, because right in that moment, at the other side of the room he sees Hange and Levi exchange a playful, quick but undeniably a kiss.
Triumph courses through him, firing him up. He knew that he was right, those fuckers from twitter can eat his shit.
Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman are truly dating.
He wants to know more, wants to ask Mikasa to spare the juicy details, but for now-
For now, Jean has to take care of his date as well.
He interlaces their fingers, and, keeping Hange's words in mind - Ackermans are not as scary as they look - he leans in to press a kiss to Mikasa's cheek and whispers,
"You look fantastic."
Ever so slightly, but Mikasa blushes. It's the best moment of the evening so far.
And, hopefully, there will be more of that.
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Jealous | Draco Malfoy (prompt request)
Request: yes, by anon. Anon requested the following: Hiii! Could I please request a Draco Malfoy x reader with prompts 5,14,15 ? Fluffy 🥺🥺with a hint of angst if you can X)
Word count: 3,342
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!reader
Note: My requests are still open, but before you request from the prompt list, please check out the updated version. Thank you so much!
Draco Malfoy was a little bit possessive when I came to his group of friends. He had troubles with trusting someone, and getting attached to them, but when he did, all his insecurities came out. His trust issues were paired with the constant fear of losing those people, but instead of telling them how he felt, he chose the easier way and hid his feelings and fears behind the mask of an arrogant son of a bitch. He was overprotective, but supportive, jealous and hot-headed, and on top of them, stubborn as hell. Only a few people were willing to give him enough time to prove that he was actually a nice person, who was only misunderstood and troubled when it came to talking about feelings or letting his guards down. He was popular, but not for what he really was. He was well-known for being a bully, an arrogant twat, an overdramatic troublemaker and the biggest hater of mudbloods. Only his closest friends knew the real Draco Lucius Malfoy, and he was fine by that. He always thought quality was way more important than quantity. He might have thought of himself as someone who was hard to read, but in reality, it wasn’t that hard. Not for Theodore Nott. Theo was his third closest friend, being behind only Y/N Y/L/N and Blaise Zabini. While Draco went to Blaise for the fun things, like pranking the Golden Trio, throwing a secret party in the Room of Requirements or just chilling somewhere with a bottle of Fire Whiskey, he chose Theo for be his emotional support and moral compass. And he gladly took up this role, especially because he had a gut feeling that his dear friend developed deeper and more serious feelings towards their one and only Miss Y/L/N.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Theo asked Draco one day, when they were sitting in their Common Room, working on a DADA project together. Theo found him staring and smiling at Y/N, who was sitting at the other side of the room with her friends, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, doing each other’s hair and makeup. The girls told them in the morning that they were tired of only wearing their uniforms and boring hairstyles, and they wanted to look like themselves again. The boys didn’t understand them, but they came up with the sad excuse of having too much homework and studying, so they didn’t have to participate in their afternoon program.
“What?” Draco asked him, but never turned his gaze away from the girl, who was sitting on the ground in front of Pansy, getting her hair curled. Theo chuckled and turned his attention to their friends as well. He saw why Malfoy was so fascinated by her. Y/N was one of the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts, if not the most. Her hair was always shiny, her makeup natural but immaculate. She had an amazing style and she always smelt like jasmine and vanilla. But it was her smile that so many boys fell for. It was beautiful and bright, could make everyone’s day better.
“You know what I’m talking about” he rolled his eyes and turned back to his book “Dray, you’re in love with her”
“No, of course I’m not” he tried to deny, but the blush on his cheeks said otherwise. Draco sighed at the sight of Y/N in her spring dress and curly hair. She looked amazing, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had her eyes on someone. They had known each other for years, she was still nice to him when he was an annoying rat at first grade, and she was one of his real friends. They spent so much time together, it was literally impossible for Draco to imagine his days without her. He saw her getting a crush from time to time, but they passed just as quickly as they came. He even saw her falling in love with Adrian Pucey, and he was by her side when they broke up. It was a mutual decision. After a year and a half of complete confusing for Draco, he felt relieved when she said they decided with Adrian to stay just friends, because they weren’t working as a couple anymore. Draco knew from then that it wasn’t just a friendly love anymore. He knew why he was always so moody and needy during the time of their dating. He hated to see him holding her hand, hugging and kissing her in the corridors. He realised he wanted to be the one who did those things to her. If he learnt only one thing from his father, it was how to treat a woman right. He was Lucius still surprising Narcissa with flowers and dates, just to keep the smile on her face. He saw the love they had, even though what his family’s secret was. And he wanted that. Draco wanted to put a single white rose on her desk before class, just to see that beautiful smile on her face. He wanted to hug her in their sleep, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and hear her giggle when he tickled her. He wanted to kiss her perfect lips and show her how much she means to him.
“Than I guess you don’t mind that George asked her out after Potions today” Theo said, knowing very well he hit a nerve with that. If it wouldn’t have been enough that someone had the audacity to ask her out before Draco finally get the courage to do that, it had to be a Weasley. He was well aware of how Draco felt towards them, and how he wanted only the best for her. He said so many times, that she deserved a pureblood Slytherin who could identify and maintain the lifestyle she grew up with. Theo knew Draco was actually talking about himself, and he was sure he was the guy who could actually make her the happiest, but it wasn’t his place to get them together. They had to realise on their own how they were feeling. He knew the unspoken rules of both families, how they preferred another Pureblood, preferably a Slytherin marrying their only child, but Y/N never really cared about blood status. She knew they were all equal, some of them not fortunate enough to be born in a rich family.
“He did what?” Draco almost yelled, and his sudden outburst of emotion brought the girls’ attention to their table. Y/N looked at him with raised eyebrows, asking him without words what the hell was going on. He only shook his head and sent a small smile toward her. He felt sick by the single thought of a Weasley having an arm around her.
“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Theo laughed and leaned back in his chair. He watched Draco’s face with an amused look. It was funny to see the always pale boy with red cheeks and even more furrowed eyebrows. Draco looked at his friend with an annoyed expression and picked up his quill. He wanted to deny it, but the feeling was too strong. He just recently learnt what jealous really felt, and he was battling with that feeling. He hated to admit that he got a soft sport for someone, and how he got jealous. He was jealous of someone else having Y/N’s attention. Not because he was needy or insecure. If he was sure about someone’s unconditional love, support and loyalty, it was her. He just didn’t want someone else to realise how amazing she was and for them to steal her away from him. He just didn’t want to lose her to someone else. She was his peace.
“I’m not jealous” he murmured and from the corner of his eyes, he checked her. She was looking at her dress in the mirror, twirling around to see how the dress hugged her body. Draco felt the oh so familiar warm feeling in his heart when he saw her. He didn’t care what she was wearing, she looked absolutely amazing in everything. Just as he opened his mouth to tell Theo to go back studying, Y/N skipped to them with a huge smile on her face.
“Hi, boys” she greeted them sweetly and stood by Draco’s side. He took a deep breathe, letting her sweet scent fill up his nose “So, I have plans for now, but Pansy and I were wondering if you two wanted to go the Hogsmeade tomorrow, to buy some things for Blaise’s surprise party”
“What about Daphne?” Theo asked, hoping the girl had other plans. They never liked each other, and only tried to get along, when they were with their group. Y/N laughed, and assured him it would only be the four of us. The boys looked at each other, both of them thinking the same thing. Maybe they could turn the shopping into a double date at the Three Broomsticks. Theo wasn’t the only one who caught on the secret glances, the moodiness when Pansy was talking to another boy. Draco knew very well Nott fancied the Parskinson girl, but was too intimidated to ask her out.
“Sounds good to me” Draco smiled at her and put his hand on the small of her back, stroking it with his thumb. He smiled even bigger when he saw the light blush on her cheeks “Maybe we could get a few drinks at the Three Broomsticks?”
“Amazing idea” she bleamed at them “Alright, I have to go now, or I’ll be late, but we’ll discuss the details later”
“Bye, darling” Draco said with a soft tone and watched as she hurried out of the Common Room. For a second he forgot where she was heading. For that second, he was happy and warmed by their small encounter.
“Bye, darling” Nott mocked him in a teasing tone. He would have laughed at him, if he wasn’t already making plans in his head for tomorrow. The four of them always had the best time, and he was really looking forward to spend some time with Pansy and watch how his friends were acting around each other, like they weren’t secretly already in love.
“Shut up” Draco throw a ball of paper at him and turned back to his essay. He wanted to finish it, so he didn’t have to worry about it and rush back from their day together just to finish it in time for class.
——
Draco wanted to stay in the Common Room and wait for Y/N to come back, but he had Quiditch practise so he had to leave. He tried his best to shut her out of his mind during practice, but it was impossible after he saw Y/N and George in the courtyard, sitting together and giggling at something. Draco couldn’t erase the picture from his memory, and his anger got the best of him. Flint shouted at him several times to get his shit together and focus on the game, but he couldn’t. He wanted to go back and punch the Weasley boy in the face for being so close to his girl. Unfortunately, it would have been weird, considering that she was only his in his mind. The way she giggled and how interested she looked by George hunted him during practise. His stomach dropped at the thought of someone else having her. Draco was glad when Flint said they should cut their practice short due to raining. He wanted to be back in his dorm room, sulking over how much of a coward he was for not making a move on her. And now, he had to watch her falling in love with someone else. Again.
He was rushing back to the Slytherin Common Room, basically running down the corridors, when he saw Y/N and Weasley standing under the arcade, still talking about something. He felt like he was stabbed, when he saw Y/N wearing George’s jacket. He slowed down his steps, watching them waiting for the rain to stop. He waited for something. He couldn’t tell why he was being a masochistic. Maybe if he saw them kissing, or holding hands, it could have helped him to move on. But it never happened. He heard the Weasley boys quiet voice thanking her for meeting up and a quick goodbye before he rushed through the courtyard. Y/N adjusted the jacket on her shoulder and took a few quick steps, but Draco was fast in her heals. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, he just wanted to let out everything. He wanted her so bad, and he wished that he was what she wanted, and not someone else.
“Y/N” he called after her. She stopped in her steps and turned around. Y/N arched her eyebrow, wondering what Draco was doing outside in such a bad weather. He hated when his hair got wet, and he hated it even more if one of his expensive shoes got dirty because of the mud “What are you wearing?”
She was surprised by the envy and anger in his voice. Draco never talked to her like that before. She never gave him reason to. He was just fine a couple hours earlier when they were talking about their Saturday plans with Theo and Pansy, so his sudden mood swing confused her.
“Uhm” she played with the sleeve of the jacket, not being entirely sure what to say “It started raining and I was a bit cold, so Georgie offered me his jacket so I don’t het sick”
“Georgie?” He basically spat the name out of his mouth “Now what? Are you two giving each other bloody nicknames?”
“What the hell got into you, Draco?” She asked. Y/N knew that Draco found the Weasley twins the least annoying out of their family, and something laughed at their pranks “It was a nice gesture”
“A gesture to get into your panties” Draco almost yelled. He wasn’t mad at her. He wasn’t even mad at George for being a man enough to ask her out. He was mad at himself for being scared of his own feelings.
“Fuck you, Draco” she scoffed and turned around to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Y/N groaned. She was annoyed by him, and didn’t want to deal with his possessiveness in the pouring rain. Her clothes and hair was all wet, and she was craving for a hot shower and some more comfortable clothes.
“No, fuck you” he was now shouting. He was done with hiding his feelings and seeing how every boy at Hogwarts could have had her, because she was single “Fuck you for liking every boy more, but me. Fuck you for not noticing how hard I’m trying to get your attention. Fuck you for not seeing how much effort I’m putting into this whole thing just to make you see what’s right in front of you” he was pouring his heart out in the rain. It could have been one of the most romantic things, if they weren’t at the verge of arguing, and they weren’t shouting at each other. Draco dropped his head with a heavy sigh. He didn’t want to see the disgust or hate on her face “I shouldn’t be jealous, you aren’t even mine”
“What are you talking about?” She was more confused than ever before. Her heart skipped a beat with every word that left Draco’s mouth. She hoped his feelings were true. She wondered how he could be so blind all this time. How he didn’t see the way she looked at him? How he didn’t feel her hugs were always longer and tighter when she hugged him? How could he not tell he was her soft spot? “Draco?”
“It doesn’t matter. I hope your date was fun” his words were soaked with envy. Y/N’s eyes widened what he said. Date?
“What date?” She laughed a little bit “I only met Georgie because he needed help with something. He has a huge crush on this Hufflepuff girl, Annah, and asked me to give him some good date ideas”
“You were never supposed to mean this much to me” he said like he didn’t hear what she just told him “I was never supposed to fall so hard. But you know what? I did and that’s the truth” Draco looked at her with hopeful eyes. Maybe they could have a chance “Don’t you see, Y/N?” He laughed dryly. It was pathetic how he was being a softie. He hated how vulnerable he felt, standing in front of her, wearing his heart on his sleeve, confessing his love to the girl who was probably thinking of him just as a good friend “I don’t want anyone else to have your heart, kiss your lips, or be in your arms, because that’s only my place”
There it was. All words said. No taking them back. Draco finally felt proud of himself for being brave enough and facing his emotions and feelings.
Y/N bleamed at the words. He said what she wanted to hear from him for so long. Her heart was beating in her throat and she felt like no breathe would have been enough for her. She couldn’t say anything. Her words were stuck in her. How could she say something as beautiful as he did? Those were a little bit harsh words, but meant more than the most beautiful love poem in the whole world.
“Kiss me you twat” she laughed and took a step closer to Draco, who was still in shock after just confessing everything that he felt. He couldn’t even understand what she asked him, because his mind was numb. He saw her lips moving and feeling her sweet scent in his nose again, but he couldn’t tell what he was supposed to do. Y/N caught him off guard when she grabbed his jumper and pulled him into a kiss. At first, he didn’t kiss back. His body couldn’t understand a single thing that was happening right there, and he just stood there. But his brain switch back on again, when he felt her pulling away. He dreamed of this moment so many times. He tried to imagine how soft her lips were and how she tasted. He always imagined if she tasted like her favourite peppermint gum. But he never thought their kiss would be like this. He melted into her lips and his heart skipped every second beat. Draco had his arms around her small body, keeping her close, not letting her go. He wanted to stay like that for eternity, with the girl of his dreams in his arms, kissing her and feeling her heartbeat against his chest.
“You know” he murmured in between kisses “I wanted to beat the shit out of that blood traitor, when he…” he couldn’t finish his sentence, because Y/N put her hand over his mouth to silence him.
“Of course you wanted, boo” she cued at him with a funny expression “You can tell me more about how you wanted to, but for now, let’s go back to the Common Room and just cuddle”
“Can I have more kisses?” He asked in a childish voice and wide eyes. She found him the most adorable, yet sexiest man ever. She rolled her eyes and took his hand happily.
“Of course” she giggle, and they ran to the Common Room hand in hand, laughing at each other for almost slipping and falling to the ground. Draco was the happiest, and was ready to show the whole school he was the lucky man who had Y/N Y/L/N’s heart, and they were more than welcome to stay away from his girl if they didn’t want his father to hear about their sad excuse of flirting with her.
#Draco Malfoy#daddy draco#draco fanfiction#Draco Malfoy fanfiction#Draco Malfoy one shot#Draco Malfoy imagine stories#Draco Malfoy imagine#Draco Malfoy x reader#Draco Malfoy x Slytherin reader#jealous Draco malfoy#prompt list request#tom felton#harry potter#Harry Potter fanfictions
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Coast To Coast
part vii
Harvard University, 2014
There must have been a greater power taunting him.
“Sexy!” Anderson—forward, number 77, alternate captain—had said in the locker room. “That is this year’s Halloween theme, boys. Bring your girls, bring your booze, bring your minimal clothing, bring your A-game.”
Sexy. That was definitely just what Logan needed for his first OKN house halloween party. His new teammates. In minimal clothing.
He rolled onto his back on his dorm bed with a sigh, continuing to scroll through his phone while he waited for Finn to get out of their shared bathroom.
Finn O’Hara. Harzy, the boys called him. Right wing but didn’t always play that way, number 17, a sophomore. Originally from New York City. Logan’s new roommate.
“It’s how it works, rookie,” Anderson had said. “Baby OKs share. You’ll get your own room eventually.”
Logan was fine having a roommate. He had had one at prep school. He didn’t even care if they were messy, he was sure he was twice as bad. But Finn O’Hara. Red hair, six foot even, brown eyes—bambi, the boys called him. A little on the thinner side, but Logan could tell he could bulk up if he wanted to. Finn O’Hara.
There must have been some greater power taunting him.
“Fuck,” Finn’s voice came from within the bathroom. The door was open, but not enough for Logan to see anything. “My balls are going to hate me.”
Logan snorted. “We wear spandex every other day of the year.”
“Yeah, breathable sports spandex, not this plastic shit. Jesus fuck,” there was a groan. “At least I look alright.”
“Stop staring at yourself and let me get in there.”
“Okay, okay,” Finn said, and Logan watched the door move as he pushed it open.
The universe hated him.
Finn was some sort of gladiator, Logan thought, with nothing on but a red cape that clasped around his neck and shoulders, and a pair of tight, gold underwear that left nothing to Logan’s imagination. They had a fake, foam sword clipped at the hip. He had gold paint on beneath his eyes, streaked like a football player, and a gold laurel crown sitting in his red hair. His pale skin was creamy against the gold and the frame of the dark red cape. He had cheap looking sandals on that went all the way up his strong calves, biting into the muscle a little.
Finn spread his arms, turning in a slow circle. “Look at these fucking things. Who makes these and why?”
Logan swallowed, looking at the gold underwear. “For frat parties, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah,” Finn laughed and then bent over his bed to fold his discarded clothes up. His cape slipped away from his back and Logan sat up abruptly.
“Merde, Harzy, those things are barely holding onto you.”
“I told you, my dick is gonna hate me,” Finn said loudly.
Logan smiled and swiped his party city bag from his dresser. “Souhaite moi bonne chance.”
“Swat bon,” Finn rolled his eyes.
Logan laughed and slipped into the bathroom. He could hear Finn putting some music on as he undressed, singing along softly under his breath. Logan gave himself a moment to close his eyes and breathe, fingering his necklace. He’d known Finn for a little over two months. That was it. And already he liked him in the morning. He liked him drunk off his ass. He liked him on the rare lazy day, still under his covers reading a book and wearing his glasses. His glasses. Dark tortoise shell things that turned amber in the sunlight, like his eyes, and just—fuck. He liked Finn on the ice and like it when they were on the same line, something that was happening more and more frequently. He liked Finn, and Finn seemed to like him well enough, and Coach liked them together. The found each other on the ice every time. Logan had never had that before.
Logan rubbed his hands over his face and then reached into the plastic bag for his costume—if he could call it that. A black cape, clasped by the yellow and black Batman symbol, the iconic mask that covered his eyes, and what could only be called underwear. They were black and shiny, with the bat symbol on the ass.
“Merde,” Logan breathed once he squeezed his thighs into the shorts. It was—obscene. He wasn’t hung like some of the guys he’d seen but this certainly made it look like he was. His cock pressed against the fabric as insistently as his ass did. He turned around and looked at the yellow symbol there and was glad that the cape would be covering at least some of it.
“Ready?” Finn said when thumping music started up downstairs meaning people were starting to arrive.
Logan looked out the small bathroom window and towards the dark driveway. Cars were lining up. People were getting out in bikinis and corsets, speedos and stockings.
“Uh, yeah,” Logan said. “One second.”
He looked at himself in the mirror and laughed a little before spinning the bat mask once, and placing it over his head. His hair curled out from under it, and the black frame made his eyes look a little startling.
He looked—not bad. If he was looking to pick up tonight—which he hadn’t done yet at Harvard—he probably could. He turned and looked at his abs, defined from the rigorous pre-season training. He looked good. He pushed away the wish that Finn would notice.
“I’m ready,” Logan said and stepped into the weird plush boots that had come with the costume. He pushed his way out of the bathroom. “Sounds like people are here.”
Finn looked up from his phone, legs spread in a way that was doing Logan zero favors. “Yeah, I—”
Finn’s stare was one Logan had felt before. Spotting him in the weight room, checking each other during drills. Two months of that look that Logan refused to think about. But that was a hard thing, when he had nothing to do but look right into it.
Finn stood abruptly, taller, gold paint reflecting into his eyes and making them light like syrup.
“What’s your,” Finn swallowed. “Tattoo. Necklace. I’ve never asked.”
“Oh,” Logan looked down at his hip. “It’s a fleur-de-lis. Sort of a family thing. Me and my sisters have them in different places.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Three. They’re older than I am.”
“Fleur-de-lis,” Finn repeated softly, eyes on the tattoo. He swallowed again and then looked away. “Sick. Should we go?”
“Yeah,” Logan said. “Yeah, I need a drink if I gotta wear this thing all night.”
Finn laughed. “Uh-huh. Me, too.”
Logan lasted about an hour before he couldn’t stand his mask anymore. He left it on a table somewhere, pushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead and wishing for a hat. He’d have to settle for something cool to drink instead.
OKN house had the back door open into the chilly yard and porch. The living room had a drinks table set up, one of those plastic fold out ones that they used at rush and club fairs, beside the great oak dining table that no one actually used except, well, Finn. Finn who planned his essays at this table until it was way too late and he snuck up to the room, trying to be quiet for Logan. Logan, who stayed up just to see him go about his routine and fall into bed. Logan, pretending he was a part of that routine.
Logan might have had a Finn problem. A two-month long Finn problem. A Finn-in-glasses problem. A Finn-dressed-as-a-gladiator problem. A Finn-in-his-red-Harvard-jersey problem with his rough skating and sharp shots.
A Finn over in the corner problem, talking to a girl. Problem.
Logan turned to the drink table and desperately looked for the rum.
Logan was allowed to have a Finn problem. Logan just couldn’t have a Finn…anything else. Finn-wet-dreams, in which he woke up with a gasp, sweating against his sheets and only needing to shove his hand into his pajama pants where he was red and swollen in his own hand, barely touching himself before he was shooting into his fist, eyes resolutely away from the bed across from him. Finn-bringing-him-breakfast, not that he could make more than burnt toast, before he drove them to the rink. Finn-laughing-with-him, like a best friend that Logan had never actually had. There were teammates, and then there were friends.
Finn was a friend. Logan could have a Finn problem, a Finn secret, and a friend.
He just couldn’t have Finn.
The rum was no where to be seen. A shoulder bumped his.
“Hey, rookie,” Finn smiled. “What you looking for?”
Finn’s crown was lopsided, like some sort of halo in an old painting. Like someone had been messing with it. Logan looked for the girl, but she was gone.
“Rum,” Logan said.
Finn did a quick survey of the table and found the bottle easily, unstoppering it and reaching over to pour a healthy amount into Logan’s waiting cup.
“Coke, right?”
Logan nodded.
A Finn-knowing-his-drink-problem.
Finn made himself one, too, and held his cup out for a cheers with a smile. Logan smiled back, clicking their plastic cups together.
“Lost your mask somewhere, Batman. Now the whole world knows your secret.”
Logan laughed tightly and raised his cup to his mouth. “I can’t have that.”
Finn tilted his head, chewing a little on the rim of his cup before taking a drink. He cleared his throat. “You been to the roof yet?”
“Non,” Logan shook his head.
“Wanna? It’s a kinda cool view of campus.”
Logan tried to smile over the hammering in his blood. “That girl didn’t wanna join you?”
Finn rolled his eyes. “Come on.” He pushed off the table and was disappearing into the crowd quickly. Logan squeezed through bodies to follow.
~
“I found the picture,” Finn shouted. “Nut—fuck, is he still at the store?”
“Oui,” Logan said, filling up a glass of water from the sink. “Did you really find it? Let me see.”
Logan padded over to where Finn was sprawled on the couch and set his glass down before crouching near Finn’s head to see his phone.
“Oh God,” Logan laughed, ducking against Finn’s shoulder.
“Are you kidding? Lo, you look incredible. Fuck me, look at your legs. And you’re bigger now, like Jesus Christ… Ugh.”
Finn swiped his thumb lightly over where Logan’s tattoo was shown on his hip, just above the ridiculous yellow belt.
“This thing used to drive me crazy,” he said softly. “I mean, it still does, but…fuck.”
Finn used to have fantasies, while wishing for Logan, all of which had been very carefully kept faceless. Until this tattoo would make an appearance and ruin it all—and make him come immediately. It was ingrained in his subconscious as a Logan thing, one moment he would be touching himself in the shower, letting his mind wander quietly towards a hard chest against his, a large hand around his dick instead of his own. Faceless. He’d take the boy and press him against the wall of the shower maybe, do whatever he wanted him to do, kiss his neck, rut their cocks together, maybe he would moan Finn’s name—
Logan’s voice. The hip he had his fingers wrapped around was darkly inked, and tanned.
“Mon rouge,” Logan’s voice—really his voice—came through. Finn looked up at the touch of fingers through his hair. “Where did you go?”
Finn looked at Logan and took a slow breath. He was so familiar. He had been right there for so long, but it was only now that he was close.
“That was…” Finn swallowed. “Kind of a hard night.”
Logan’s brows drew together, and he nodded minutely after a moment. “We’ve had a few hard nights, non?”
Finn looked back at his phone, and then Logan was taking it out of his hand, clicking it off, and setting it on the coffee table. Finn sat up a little as Logan climbed into his lap, knees pressed to his hips. Finn ran his hands over his shoulders, then up beneath his sweatshirt to his broad back. He was bigger now. Stronger.
Logan pressed his fingers through Finn’s hair again and then a kiss to his jaw, one side, and then the other, his cheeks, and then his mouth.
“They lead us here,” Logan said softly. “The hard nights.”
Finn’s throat felt tight. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck. I know. I know they did.”
“Let me show you it’s easier now,” Logan said. “D’accord? Harzy, let me.”
“Lo,” Finn rasped out. He ran his thumb over where he knew the tattoo was, had memorized it quickly, would kiss it endlessly.
“You work hard for everyone,” Logan said the words into another kiss. “You worked hard trying to make me not be afraid, even when I was horrible and terrified.” He kissed down Finn’s throat and Finn’s mouth dropped open. “Even when you were terrified, even when I hurt you. Let me. Finn…”
Finn let out a breath, eyes opening to the ceiling, then to Logan’s when he brought their mouths back together.
"Let me.”
“I took you to the roof,” Finn gasped as Logan pressed against him, warm and real. “I don’t know what I was expecting, I…fuck, we barely knew each other.”
“Do you have any idea how much I wanted you,” Logan said. “Lean up for a sec.”
Finn let Logan pull his t-shirt off of him, let him press wet kisses to his neck and shoulders. It felt good, but part of him itched to flip them, to make Logan feel good. Kiss down his chest, kiss that tattoo.
“Relax,” Logan laughed softly, easing Finn back against the cushions. “You have to let me love you. I need it, Finn. I need to.”
Finn’s cock began to fatten up at that. He let his head fall back. “Lo…”
Logan reached behind him to yank his sweatshirt off and—and there he was. Real.
Finn pressed his palms against his chest, his stomach, feeling the hard curves of his muscles. Logan pressed his hands over Finn’s, bringing them to touch his neck, his pecs. “Let me take care of you for once. Rest and let me.”
Logan leaned down for another, soft kiss and then was swinging off of the couch. His cock was a soft outline in his sweatpants. “Allez.”
Logan pulled Finn up and Finn couldn’t help but back him against the nearest wall, just for a moment, thumb back against the fleur-de-lis, lips harsh against his jaw, just the way he knew Logan liked.
Logan let out a laugh that cut off in a moan. “Non, non—”
Finn pulled back and Logan’s smile made him smile. Logan was flushed and his neck was red from Finn’s mouth. Finn sucked a bruise on top of the blush on the side of his throat, and Logan’s short nails pressed into Finn’s back. Finn reached down and cupped Logan’s cock within his sweatpants, feeling the heat of it through the fabric.
“Non, non, non, allez,” Logan was still half laughing, walking Finn backwards towards his bedroom. “Je prends soin de toi. I’m taking care of you.”
“But I like making you come,” Finn grinned, only just managing to give Logan’s ass a squeeze before Logan pushed him back onto the bed. He bounced a little, pushing himself against the pillows before tapping his thighs. “C’mere, baby.”
Logan shucked his sweatpants off, followed by his socks, and then it was just him, bare and standing there in front of Finn. Finn swore softly and reached down to palm himself.
“Non,” Logan shook his head and knelt on the bed, cock standing out and wet. The sight only made Finn give himself another squeeze. Logan was straddling his hips then, snatching his hands and moving them to his waist. Finn wrapped his arms all the way around Logan, bringing their bare chests together.
He kissed him hard. “Gonna take my pants off, too? Can’t do much like this.”
Logan scoffed and hit the side of Finn’s head lightly, making Finn laugh. But he obliged, coaxing Finn to lift his hips so he could pull his sweatpants away. He leant to kiss the newly exposed skin, mouth soft against Finn’s hips and stomach, hand wrapping around his cock. Finn let out a slow breath and tangled his fingers in Logan’s hair.
He wasn’t expecting it when Logan sucked the head of his cock into his mouth. Logan hadn’t done that yet. He made Finn sit up, abs tightening.
“Tremz,” he panted out a breath. “Oh fuck.”
Leo had been wanting and loving about going down on Finn. It had practically broken Finn’s brain, seeing him there, blue eyes open with his mouth full of his cock. They’d laughed and kissed sending those videos to Logan. It was unbearably hot, thinking of Logan, seeing them, wanting them.
This was entirely different. It was different with both of them. With everything.
Leo and Finn liked to read together, swapping favorite passages. Logan didn’t read much, but he liked to be read to. Finn had always known that, had done it a million times back at Harvard. But now he knew that Logan liked to lay on Finn’s chest while he read, aloud or to himself, and fall straight asleep. He’d always fallen asleep to Finn’s voice. But now he was a weight on top of Finn, breathing softly against his neck and Finn just…
Logan’s mouth was soft, too, tongue pressing against the head of his cock.
Finn loved him.
“Lo, Lo, Lo…” Finn panted. “Fuck, baby.”
Logan just hummed and sucked down further for a moment before popping off and smiling a sweet smile. “Did it with Leo.”
Finn huffed out a laugh, throbbing at the image. “I should be no fucking problem, then.”
Logan laughed, too. “I hope he comes home soon.”
“Me, too,” Finn said. He wanted him with them.
“I guess I know a way to pass the time until he comes back.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Logan smiled and rolled onto his back, producing lube from Finn didn’t know where. He spread his thighs. “Love it when Knutty does this, the fucking splits.”
Finn leaned forward, running his hands down Logan’s smooth skin. “Yeah. I didn’t even think about how goalies do that until him.”
Finn watched Logan’s face as he slipped two fingers into himself.
“Baby,” Finn said softly. “Let me.”
“Non, you watch.”
Finn sat up further, hand going to his cock—
“Don’t,” Logan panted, head against the bedspread as he worked himself. “Watch.”
Finn sighed and took Logan’s thighs back in his hands and kissed the inside of his knee. There was a little scar there from a night that happened a long time ago. Finn remembered.
Logan laughed breathlessly. “You can’t help yourself.”
“I love you so much.”
Logan’s breathing hitched, green eyes hazy. “Finn…”
Finn kissed it again, and then the other one, and then his thighs. He sucked kisses into the skin, bringing purple to the surface. Logan was marked by the time he sat up.
He was quiet as he pressed Finn back against the pillows. He wet his lips.
“Lo, what—”
“Why do you have your socks on, you weirdo,” Logan said as he swung a leg over Finn’s thighs. Finn’s cock nudged his entrance, and Logan gasped, cutting himself off.
He leaned down and captured Finn’s mouth in a needy kiss and reached behind himself to line Finn up. It was only then that Finn realized—Logan was going to—
Logan’s thighs were firm beneath Finn’s hands as he sunk down on him. Finn’s mouth dropped open at the feeling, of Logan in complete control. It wasn’t like fucking him at all, it was Logan, above him, head tilted back with the feeling of Finn filling him up.
“Finn,” Logan’s voice was more whine than anything else. “Finn, Finn, Finn—“
And he was seated, their hips together, Logan’s cock drooling between them.
“Holy shit,” Finn could barely breathe in. “Holy fucking shit, Lo.”
Logan got his knees under him and pushed himself up before sinking down again. Finn clutched Logan’s hips as all the breath seemed to punch out of Logan’s lungs. He did it again, and again, landing hard with each thrust, completely gone with fucking himself on Finn’s cock. Finn was mesmerized with the wide expanse of tan skin he had to kiss, Logan’s collarbones and shoulders, tongue running over his nipples as Logan’s thighs worked around him.
Logan shifted his hips and pitched forward into Finn’s chest with a curse, burrowing his face in Finn’s neck as he rolled his hips forward in small, sharp motions, hitting that spot inside him again and again.
“There you go, baby,” Finn said, wrapping his arms under Logan’s and around his broad shoulders. He pushed up in time with Logan, making Logan practically shout. “Be as loud as you want, there you go.”
“Finn,” Logan just kept saying, slipping a few times and saying Leo’s name instead. It made Finn all the hotter to think that Logan was imagining Leo there with them, sitting beside them on the bed, maybe working Logan’s cock into his mouth.
Logan’s breathing hitched up and he tightened his arms around Finn’s neck, fingers gripping his hair to pull Finn back for a sloppy kiss as he started to raise his hips again, skin slapping down against Finn’s. He worked until Finn was sure his thighs had to be burning, no matter how toned they were. Finn was going to lose his fucking mind.
“What,” a voice came from the doorway.
Finn looked up to the side to see Leo standing there, keys in his hand.
“Leo,” Logan gasped, and reached a hand out while rocking himself down on Finn’s dick.
Leo walked forward slowly towards the bed and took Logan’s hand like he was in a daze, staring at their naked bodies, slick with sweat by now. Logan yanked him forward and started undoing his belt.
“Hi, Peanut,” Finn panted, head falling back again as Logan rocked against him harder. “Store was—good?”
“I…” Leo was staring at where Logan was wrapping an arm around his waist now, leaning forward to press sloppy kisses over where Leo’s cock was quickly filling in his underwear.
“Knutty,” Logan said, before getting his fingers under the band of Leo’s boxers and pulling down so that Leo’s cock fell out. Leo laced his fingers into Logan’s hair, a laugh startling out of him.
“Logan, oh my god, I’m still holding my keys and wallet. I have my shoes on.”
“Allez.”
Leo just shook his head, raking his fingers through Logan’s sweaty hair. He dropped his things onto the night stand and then tugged his t-shirt off in one go, pushing off his shoes next. Logan let him undress, turning back to Finn and pressing his hands to Finn’s shoulders.
“Don’t touch him,” Leo said as he kicked his boxers aside. He fell down on the bed beside Finn and wrapped a large palm around himself, stroking his shaft. “Come on Finn’s cock, Tremz.”
“Non. Finn.”
Finn watched Logan and Leo share a look that he didn’t quite understand.
“I found the Batman picture,” Finn offered as a hopeful way to get into whatever silent communication Leo and Logan were having. “Sort of—” Finn hissed as Logan tightened around him. “Stirred up some memories if you couldn’t tell, fuck.”
Leo raised an eyebrow, shifting to sit on his heels. “Oh yeah?” He ran a hand down Logan’s back and Logan slowed until he was rocking gently, leaning a little into Leo. Leo looked at Finn. “How’d he look, Harzy?”
“He looked—” Finn began, and then cut off. The sudden well of emotion that had cut through him earlier seized around his heart again. He looked at Leo, all kind eyes, running his hand through Finn’s hair. And Logan, connected to Finn in every possible way right then. Finn opened and closed his mouth, swallowed over a dry throat, and looked at Logan. “He looked…”
~
The October air was a relief on Finn’s face when he pushed open the old window to the roof of OKN house. He turned back to look at Logan. They had thrown sweatpants and sweatshirts on, Finn had swiped a bottle of rum from the kitchen. The only real remnants of their outfits was Logan’s mussed hair and the gold on Finn’s cheeks.
Finn still felt like he was wearing a costume.
“This is semi-secret,” Finn said as he climbed out onto the tiles, vans catching on the rough material. “And by that I mean I really think no one likes it out here but me.”
He heard Logan laugh from behind him and smiled, pleased.
Fuck.
“You, the roof, and the dining room table,” Logan said.
The rum sloshed gently as Finn settled himself in the curve of the tiles, putting his hood up for some warmth and cushion. Logan did the same, and they settled shoulder to shoulder.
“Might have to steel your spot,” Logan said. “You can keep the table, though.”
“We already share a room and a starting line,” Finn handed him the bottle. “Wouldn’t be so bad.”
Logan’s smile was bright in the moonlight. “Well, good.”
They were quiet for a few moments, passing the rum back and forth to keep warm.
“Do you think you’re gonna make it? To play, I mean.” Logan asked him suddenly.
Finn knew Logan didn’t know just how loaded of a question he was asking. Was Finn going to make it? Hopefully. Was Finn going to survive it? If there was another teammate who became what Logan was quickly becoming, if Finn slipped up…
Hopefully.
He couldn’t read Logan. He couldn’t risk misreading Logan. He shouldn’t even try.
“Yeah,” Finn nodded. “I do, actually. I…you know, there’s all those statistics and shit but I also…feel it? If that doesn’t sound completely stupid? You?”
“I…” Logan hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“Come on, have you seen you play?”
One corner of Logan’s mouth raised, but he looked different beneath the moon. He was looking intently at Finn, bottle clutched to his chest.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I feel…”
Finn waited for him to continue, but when Logan merely shrugged, he pressed on.
“Hey, I’d take you. Any day.”
It didn’t have the intended effect. The look that crossed Logan’s face looked almost—pained.
“I mean,” Finn tried to decide how to backtrack. “Maybe one day, eh? Anything could happen.”
Logan turned to look out over campus. He nodded mutely and took another drink. Finn felt concern draw around his heart.
“Lo, are you okay?”
Logan’s eyes snapped back to him. “Quoi?”
“What? Oh. Oh. Oh, no, I…” Finn laughed, a little awkwardly. “I didn’t really mean to…that’s been, like—it’s just been bouncing around my head for a while and I guess it slipped out.”
“That’s okay,” Logan said slowly. “I’m okay.”
“It’s okay if you aren’t. I mean… freshman year, Harvard hockey…it’s a lot of pressure. Believe me, I know.”
Another surprising thing. Logan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Non.”
Finn blinked. “What do you mean?”
Logan shook his head. “Nothing, I just…I’m probably a little drunk, I don’t even know.”
Finn let Logan hand the bottle of rum back to him, clutching it to his chest just to hold onto something. He didn’t know what to make of Logan’s no. No Finn didn’t know what it was like? That wasn’t true. If anything, Logan didn’t know what he was going through. Logan didn’t think about kissing Finn.
Logan stole the bottle back. “If you’re not gonna drink.”
He had a smile on his face again, one of his small secret ones. Finn, despite the uncertainty, smiled back. He couldn’t help it around Logan. Logan, who he now knew was the youngest with three sisters. Logan, who drank rum and coke. Logan, who hated doing his homework, but liked listening to Finn do his. Logan, who fought boys twice his size.
Before Finn could say anything, a rumble of thunder sounded off in the distance. It made them both look up and across campus.
“Halloween storm,” Finn said. “I guess that’s fitting.”
“My weather app said something about it,” Logan said after a moment.
Finn smiled. Logan, who checked a weather app.
Logan saw his smile and gave him a small shove. “Let’s go before it starts to rain and—and lightning and shit.”
“Don’t like storms?”
Logan was already pulling his hood more firmly on his head and maneuvering himself into a crouch. “Not really.”
“Well,” Finn started following him back to the window. “I don’t know about Canada, but we get some pretty crazy ones out here.”
Logan huffed, pushing the window up. “Well, super.”
Finn frowned. “Do you really not like—”
“Merde,” Logan hissed and stumbled the rest of the way through the frame. “Fuck.”
Finn pulled himself through a second later, eyes falling to the rip in Logan’s sweatpants by his knee, the red bleeding into the thick material.
“Shit, Tremz,” Finn said. “Is it bad?”
“It’s fine,” Logan said, looking at it carefully. “I’m fine.”
“Let me see, sit down.”
“I’m—”
“Let me see, speaking as your alternate captain now.”
Logan narrowed his eyes at him pulling that card, but sat on a ratty window seat. Finn grinned at him and crouched between his legs. He steadied himself on Logan’s knee, and then pushed Logan’s sweatpants up carefully, revealing his leg—a leg that Finn had been trying very hard not to stare at in skin-tight Batman underwear all evening. His skin was warm.
Finn would have liked a longer excuse to touch Logan, but the cut was small if not a little deep—thankfully not too bad. It was already beginning to stop bleeding.
“You should be good. Wasn’t anything rusty, just the wood edge. There’s some stuff in our bathroom from when I cut my cheek open last year.”
“Okay,” Logan said quietly. It was only then that Finn realized how still he was holding himself in Finn’s hands. It made Finn back up immediately, neck going hot. Who knew what Logan thought. Finn was so careful. So careful.
“Okay,” Finn said, then cleared his throat. “Okay, cool.” He looked around and then picked up the rum bottle from the floor. “Yeah.”
Logan pushed his sweatpants back into place and stood. “I’ll go check it out. Thanks, Harzy. See you in the room.”
“Yeah,” Finn managed faintly. He watched Logan send him a raw looking smile before jogging down the narrow staircase with a tight heart.
~
“Always taking care of me,” Logan was kissing his neck. “Remember the storm that night?”
Finn found Leo’s eyes before Leo was kissing his chest, teeth scraping over his nipple. Logan was grinding down on him in slow circles, making Finn choke out a moan. Their mouths on him ripped him right out of the memory.
Sometimes happiness made sadness’s edge sharper.
Finn blinked heat away from his eyes, but then Leo was there again, cock against his thigh, mouth brushing his own. Leo. Finn held one hand against Logan’s hip, the fleur-de-lis, and the other circled Leo’s back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him in for a kiss. He loved kissing Leo.
“You deserve it, too, remember? Like we said.” Leo said.
Logan mouth was softer now, against his jaw. “Maybe it’s time we show you.”
Finn could only sit there and take it, the two of them, warming him through and through.
Leo leaned into Finn’s touch. “Like you told me.”
~
Finn woke up with Leo pressed along his front for the first time the morning before they left for Florida. It was to a six AM alarm, Finn was exhausted, but it was one of the best mornings. Finding out Logan was coming to Gryffindor. Waking up wrapped around Leo. Tied for best mornings. After a few kisses, they had to get up, even if it felt like they were a world away from anything normal. Finn actually smiled to himself in the shower the entire time. He was giddy as hell, and Leo was in the kitchen making coffee and eggs and he could kiss Leo while he did that now. He could kiss Leo while he was reading on the couch, he could kiss Leo goodnight and crawl into bed next to him. And and and.
Leo looked up when Finn entered the kitchen, hunched over his coffee cup with two steaming plates in front of him. “Hi.”
Finn just walked forward and turned Leo away from the counter and towards him. “Leo.”
Leo took a lock of his hair, the red darkened from the shower, and curled it around his finger. “You look a little too serious for my liking.”
“You’re okay with all of this, right?” Finn said, and then the words rushed out. “You’re okay with me, and with Logan—hopefully—and you feel good and not pressured, and I just want to make sure because, Leo, I’m not that much older than you but I am older than you. And I need you to know that I want this with everything I fucking have but not if you’re in any way not happy, or, like, nervous, or…I just want,” Finn felt Leo press his hand to his cheek. “I just want to make sure. And I’m gonna keep making sure.”
“Harz…” Leo’s smile was small, almost disbelieving. “I’m so happy. I’m so happy.”
“Well…good,” Finn let out a breathless laugh, relieved. “Because you deserve to be.” Finn pressed his hands to either side of Leo’s face and kissed him once, twice, and then Leo held him there with a hand on the back of his head, licking into his mouth and making Finn sway into the cradle of his thighs. “I really, really like you, Peanut.”
“I like you, too. Even though you’re going to make us late.”
Finn just smiled into their next kiss. “I’ll get the dishes, okay? You go take a shower.”
~
Logan was already under his covers by the time Finn came into the room. The halloween storm was getting sharper. It was raining now, lightning flashing against the sky. Logan had his headphones in, and his eyes were dark as they followed Finn around the room as he undressed. Finn could hear his music from all the way in the bathroom.
Finn found the Batman mask by the sink and laughed, heart pulling when he thought about Logan’s green eyes in it, staring a little self consciously out at him earlier that night. He brushed his teeth and then put it on.
Logan raised an eyebrow when Finn came out, but he laughed and pushed his headphones away from one ear, making his hair stick up.
“Forgot your secret identity,” Finn grinned.
“Too late now.”
Finn bit his lip as he crossed the room to his own bed, putting the mask down. Logan was certainly his secret. Logan had grown quickly into Finn’s mind, so fast that Finn hadn’t really realized it. One morning, he just woke up thinking about kissing Logan square on the mouth.
Logan took a shaky breath from the other side of the room and set his headphones on his nightstand with a glance outside. Lightning cracked across the sky, lighting up the room. Logan’s fists squeezed around his blanket.
Finn slumped down against his pillows with a sigh, taking the book he was reading from his bedside. He could hear people leaving downstairs, screaming and laughing in the wind and rain.
“I don’t like storms,” Logan said quietly. He wasn’t looking at Finn, and he was messing with his fingers agitatedly, covers pulled high on his chest. “I don’t really know why, I just…I don’t like them.”
“I don’t like seaweed,” Finn shrugged, but warmed when Logan actually laughed. “I don’t know, man, it’s just slimy. Thunder’s loud as fuck, I mean, it doesn’t not make sense to not like it.” He took a breath. “You want the light on? It won’t bother me at all.”
Logan looked at him for a long moment, before nodding. “Oui. Thanks, Harzy.”
~
“Harzy,” Logan said against his mouth, and Finn felt his back arch as Logan drew them closer together.
Finn couldn’t get any words out, though, not with Logan hot around him, with Leo sucking intently at his neck, rutting against his thigh. He let out a harsh breath and tightened his fingers in Leo’s hair. They were both hard and dripping onto his chest and stomach and Finn wanted to do something for them. He was aching inside Logan, breathless from his own memories.
“Please,” he said, and he wasn’t even sure what he was asking. He tried to sit up, to reach for them. He wanted to surround them, to pull them against him harder.
Leo shushed him gently, pulling him into a kiss and easing him back against the pillows.
“You were gonna go all the way and get me the stars,” Leo whispered, a light laugh following. “Fuck, Finn…”
“I just—” Finn flexed his hips up into Logan and Logan’s brows scrunched together, hands keeping him upright against Finn’s chest.
“I’m gonna come,” Logan panted, his hips fucking down on Finn. “Fuck, I can’t—”
Logan’s hips stilled and he gasped, cock still red and hard. He fucked once, twice, as if he couldn’t help it, but Finn groaned in protest as Logan gingerly pulled off. Finn watched his own cock bobbing an angry red against his stomach, shiny with come and lube. Logan collapsed into Finn’s side, sweaty and running his hand down Finn’s chest to his balls, cupping them gently.
“Always taking care of us,” Logan breathed. “Fuck, Harz, I love you, but you have to let us take care of you.”
They’d only fucked a handful of times—and Finn was looking forward to many, many more handfuls—but he guessed it was true.
“I like it,” He said. And that was true too. He loved it. His breathing hitched as Leo licked a stripe from Logan’s fingers to the tip of Finn’s cock. “Fuck, Leo.”
Leo just smiled, cheeks a deep red and swung a leg over Finn’s hips. Finn’s hand shot out to grip Leo’s thighs.
“Baby, did you even—”
Leo nodded. “You were a little preoccupied.”
“I could of done it.”
Logan laughed, pressing a kiss to Finn’s cheek. “That’s not the point of right now.”
Leo’s cock hung heavily, balls swollen and tip wet. Finn itched to touch him, but instead Leo cupped his cock against his abs, giving Finn a perfect view of him sinking down over Finn’s.
“We’re all here together,” Logan said softly, accent thick as Finn’s eyes closed at the feeling of Logan’s hand and Leo’s body. “We’re all here for each other, mon rouge. Let us.”
Leo’s head was tilted back, hips rocking in slow circles. Finn cursed, gripping Leo’s pale thighs, longer and leaner than Logan’s.
“Peanut,” Finn gasped. “Jesus, did you two practice this on each other, too?”
Leo’s smile was hazy and blissful. “Maybe.”
Finn groaned, head dropping back into the pillows. Finn loved the two of them together. His two.
Leo’s breathing turned heavy and then he pressed up and sunk down again, punching a sound out of himself. “Fuck.”
“There you go, pinotte,” Logan said from beside Finn. His palm was warm around Finn’s balls still, the sensation making Finn feel like he was about to be right on the edge. Leo was still holding his own cock, but not stroking it, just sinking down around Finn again and again. His blond hair darkened against his forehead.
“I’m close,” Finn said. “Jesus, fuck, I’m so close.”
The urgency had come out of nowhere, but he ached with it. Logan’s hand squeezed again around his balls, and then Leo was pulling off, too. Finn’s abs jumped and the loss. He fisted the sheets.
“Boys, this is not what I call appreciation,” Finn’s knees drew up on their own, trying to seek out any type of friction. His cock beaded precome across his stomach.
“Non?” Logan said, and then he was gone from against Finn’s side. Finn felt aflame, like he could feel every touch, and every absence.
Leo smoothed a hand down his stomach, through the mess, and then his mouth was back on Finn’s cock—and so was Logan’s.
“Huh—“ Finn wasn’t sure if he was breathing properly as his hands shot out to tangle in their hair, brunette and blonde. They lapped at him, mouths meeting occasionally around his wet, swollen tip. They’re—
“Fucking gorgeous, what the hell,” Finn managed, and he did sit up this time, legs splayed, pressing against their chests, palms rubbing over their spines. He had to close his eyes for a minute when Logan’s mouth found his balls and sucked at them, at the sensitive skin at his root, all while Leo’s mouth was sinking down, down. Finn felt it like a bruise, like a hurt that was so good it shattered, he shattered, looking at them.
Finn tried to keep his hips still as he came in Leo’s mouth with a low sound, bowed with his forehead pressed to Leo’s shoulder.
They kissed him, and then kissed each other, and then Logan was crawling across Finn and into Leo’s waiting arms. They smiled at each other, and Finn thought that was better than any of the sex. Leo’s hands were shaky as he pushed into Logan. Logan sunk down on Leo’s cock twice before he was shouting, come hot and white against Leo’s skin. Finn pressed himself all along Logan’s back and held him as Leo fucked into him a handful of times and came, too, face buried in Finn’s neck.
They were breathing hard, like a fine current surrounded the three of them, placing their breaths in sync. Finn was—
~
Leo closed the door to the balcony of Finn’s Florida hotel room and paced back to the bed, sitting beside him. Finn rubbed a hand up and down his back, thumb bumping along his spine.
“He’s hurting,” Leo said, eyes down. “He’s hurting, and he won’t let us tell him that we…”
“Lo’s always needed to do things in his own time. Always. We’ll get to him, we’ll talk to him.”
“I…” Leo cut off with a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. Then he turned into Finn and Finn wrapped him up close.
“We’ll sort it out. Believe me, I’ve been waiting a long fucking time for this,” Finn pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek. “For you, too, even if I didn’t know it.”
Leo smiled, even if his eyes were still a little sad.
“You’re right,” he said, and then paused. “Maybe we’ll just kidnap him at the buffet.”
Finn snorted. “Maybe.”
Leo took Finn’s hand in his lap and kissed it. “I think we’ll be together soon.”
~
It was too good. It was all his. Finn ran one hand over Logan’s abs slowly before pressing his palm over his pounding heart. With his other on Leo’s back, he could feel Leo’s heartbeat, too. They were louder to him than his own. Logan’s head was tilted back against his shoulder, his eyes closed, and Finn leant down and kissed his cheek.
“Knutty, c’mere,” he breathed. “C’mere.”
Leo’s cheeks were red like his mouth and he knelt his way over to Finn’s chest, leaning his chin up for a kiss. He pressed his hand to Finn’s cheek, swiping his thumb over his jaw.
“Stubble,” he mumbled with a smile, and dragged his lips over it happily.
Finn laughed softly. “I’ve been playing good, I gotta keep it.”
Logan looked up and all but smacked Finn in the face to feel. “Fucking loved that in college.”
“He had it the first day I met him,” Leo smiled, nuzzling against Finn’s slightly rough jaw and the dark red hair there.
~
“The fuck’s on your face, O’Hara,” was Logan’s greeting during preseason camp Finn’s senior year.
They’d seen each other a few weeks prior when Logan was still in the city staying with Finn’s family. He’d spent the last weeks of July with his own family, and how here they were, back at Harvard, sticky with sweat from ground training. Seeing Logan again after weeks, even just after a night’s sleep, was always a bit of a punch to the gut for Finn. He was tanned from the summer sun, sinfully so, and Finn wanted to—
“What?” Finn laughed, lifting his shirt up to wipe his face—including the week old beard he’d been experimenting with. “I don’t know about it, what do you think?”
He was thankful he was already sweating, because his face heated with the question. He needed to know what Logan thought, always.
Logan, green eyes were made light by his black snapback, walked forward. He took Finn’s chin between his fingers, turning his head this way and that before rubbing his palm over his cheek. Finn swallowed.
“Nice face,” Logan said.
~
Finn laughed. “You made fun of me.”
Leo snorted. “Well, neither of us could very well say fuck, what a hottie.”
“Nut, please go around calling Finn a hottie from now on,” Logan laughed, and then let out a breath. “Fuck, that was so hot.”
“I still haven’t seen the picture,” Leo said, and then, more quietly. “What activated our Finn plan, Tremz?”
Finn blinked. “Finn plan?” Logan looked up at Finn with a smile and Finn raised an eyebrow, tweaking his nipple and making him swear and laugh Finn’s favorite laugh. “What the hell is a Finn plan?”
“Just…” Logan looked over his face, and then to Leo, reaching out and petting a hand through Leo’s hair. “We wanted to show you that we want you just as much. That we want to take care of you as much as you always tell us you want to take care of us.”
Finn looked between them. “You…”
“We were talking about it,” Leo began.
“And making out,” Logan added.
“And making dinner one night,” Leo laughed. “And, I don’t know, we just sort of…when we felt the time was good, decided we’d make sure you knew.”
Logan nodded, hair tickling Finn’s throat. “You looked pretty sad there for a second, mon rouge, looking at that picture.”
“And when you were telling me about your rookie year, remember?” Leo said. “In Florida, after we got together?”
~
“I’m just saying,” Finn shrugged. They were laying down facing each other on Finn’s bed. Timmy was out with Kuny and Nado and, when that happened, he didn’t come back for a good while. Finn didn’t want to do anything too risky, but kissing Leo until he was soft and smiling seemed like a good plan. Logan wasn’t picking up his phone. He wasn’t in his and Leo’s room.
Kissing had soon turned into worrying.
“I’m just saying, I’m really glad you didn’t have to do the rookie season hotel shit. I’m so glad you’re with me. When I did it, it just,” Finn watched where his thumb was stroking over Leo’s knuckles. “I mean, Logan wasn’t really talking to me. I was trying to give him space, but I—missed him. Sorry,” Finn laughed a little, clearing his throat around the hot tears forming there.
“Don’t be,” Leo said. “Harzy, you love him. Of course you missed him.”
“I just waited for him to call forever,” Finn said in a rush. “And I’d wait forever again, you know, but I…I would just stare at my—phone,” Finn’s voice hitched. “And then I finally called him and it was horrible, I could barely talk.”
Leo’s eyes were sad and he pressed closer to Finn.
“I’m just happy you wanted to talk,” Finn whispered into the small space between them. “I’m so fucking glad we talked and now look, I can kiss you, Leo. Even though I’m crying,” Finn smiled a little, and Leo kissed him.
“You’re allowed to cry over him. Fuck, you think I haven’t cried over both of you?”
Finn laughed and rubbed his eyes. “Hope you don’t cry over me anymore.”
Leo grinned, swinging a leg over Finn’s hips. “I think they call you Heartthrob-O’Hara for a reason.”
~
“I remember,” Finn said softly. He couldn’t think about that phone call, though. Not yet. With time. “I didn’t know you remembered, Nut.”
Leo nodded. “I think we all remember.”
Logan let out a shaky breath against Finn’s chest and Finn rested his lips against the crown of Logan’s head. Maybe Logan couldn’t think about it either. Logan, who had tried to be so bright for him, even when he could tell Finn was crying.
Leo smiled. “Got a couple of star crossed lovers on my hands.”
Finn felt Logan’s laugh this time. “Care to join the party?”
“Yes, please.”
Finn groaned at the soft syllables in Leo’s voice, the drawn out ones in Logan’s. “You both get accent-y after sex."
“Tired,” Logan said.
“Fucked,” Leo sighed.
Logan laughed loudly, eyes squeezing shut, and he nudged Leo with his hand before wrapping his fingers around his arm and pulling him close for a kiss.
Finn didn’t think they were star crossed anymore. They had orbited around that somehow and ended up here, pulled by Leo’s gravity, into a tangle of light.
“In the middle,” Leo laughed, and bent briefly to press a lingering kiss to the dark ink on Logan’s hip before returning to his mouth. “Just how you like it.”
Finn smiled. Finn was just where he liked it, too. Feeling the weight of both of them in his arms, not moving, not going anywhere, their voices soft in a room the was safe and warm.
“What do you like, Nut?” Finn said. “Tell me.”
Leo bit his lip. “Looking at you two. I never even thought I’d have one person. And if I did, I thought they’d get tired of secrets. Scared away.” Leo let Finn pull him closer. “Secrets made you two stronger. And you’re not gonna leave me because you have to keep me a secret, either.” Leo’s gaze flickered. “I like looking at you two and knowing that.”
~
“Knutty, Knutty, Knutter, Nut, Nutter butter baby,” Finn sing-songed as he shuffled into the kitchen, voice sleepy and hair a mess. He felt awake after last night, his boys, on him, with him, working their way so deep into his bones and heart that he bled and bruised and breathed them. It felt good.
He rested his cheek against Leo’s back as he wrapped his arms around him from behind while eggs sizzled on the stove.
“Morning, Harz,” Leo said.
“Sup,” Finn sighed.
Leo snorted, then took a strip of bacon he had cooling from a plate. “Here.”
Finn made an appreciative sound and took it between his teeth.
“Do you wish we could cook?” Finn asked as he chewed.
Leo wavered his head back and forth. “No,” he decided. “I think you can do more than you think you can, but I like cooking for you. You guys clean up. It’s like being on a cooking show. All the fun, none of the work.”
Finn laughed, pressing a kiss to Leo’s shoulder through his t-shirt. “Cute.”
“Is he awake yet?”
“No,” Finn said, pulling three coffee mugs down from the cupboard. Logan, easily awoken, hard to wake up. “Somehow we managed to sneak out. Lightest sleeper ever. You know, I used to have to pee on roadies or when we were roommates—I mean I still pee, but you get the idea. And he would jump up like there was a fucking burglar.”
Leo dumped the eggs onto the waiting plates and flicked the hot pan off. He came up behind Finn this time, hands on his hips while the smell of brewing coffee rose in the air. Finn leaned back against his chest.
“I thought about doing this so many times while you made breakfast,” Finn said softly.
Leo glanced at his face, nose brushing his cheek. His eyes were closed, eyelashes turned shadows in the warm sunlight pooling on the floor. He was completely relaxed into Leo, and Leo held him there. This was what Leo liked. Finn, knowing that they weren’t going anywhere, no matter what he did.
“Me too,” Leo said, kissing Finn’s jaw. Finn smiled, and turned his head into the kiss.
“Leo,” Finn said.
“Yeah?”
“I think we should ask him.”
Leo only had the chance to smile and kiss Finn again, deeper, before there was a weight falling against both of them, Logan’s dark head of hair burrowing against Leo’s chest. Leo laughed and stumbled, just a little.
“You gain ten pounds when you’re sleepy, I swear.”
Logan just hummed. Leo and Finn looked at each other over his head, and then Finn sandwiched Logan in from the other side.
“Hey, Lo,” he whispered.
“Quoi,” Logan mumbled sleepily, his eyes closed and cheek against Leo’s t-shirt.
Finn smiled at Leo, and Leo ducked down.
“Will you move in with us?” Leo whispered.
Logan looked up so fast he butted Finn in the nose with the back of his head.
“Fuck me,” Finn startled back and Logan swore, turning in their arms and pressing his hands to Finn’s rough cheeks.
“Harz,” Logan began, and then Finn realized that both him and Leo were laughing too hard to speak.
“Ouch.”
Logan sagged against him, gasping for breath—
And then Finn realized he was half crying. And nodding. And nodding and nodding.
Finn abandoned his aching nose and looked at Leo, whose expression had softened. Logan’s breathing stuttered and he gasped out a laugh, wiping his face.
“Fuck, I just woke up.”
“Is that a yes?” Finn laughed. “Head butt me then burst into tears, I guess that’s a pretty regular morning for us all.”
Leo kissed Logan’s neck softly. “Say yes.”
“Get out of Dumo’s basement,” Finn said.
Logan punched him in the chest, making him groan, and the pulled him back in, leaning into Leo’s arms.
“Yes,” Logan said. “Yes.”
~
Over coffee, Finn held his phone out to Leo.
“Slutty Batman.”
Leo blinked at the photo. “Holy fuck.”
#coast to coast#lumosinlove#sweater weather#sweater weather spin off#coast to coast lumosinlove#lumosinlove coast to coast#o'knutzy#Logan tremblay#Leo knut#finn o'hara#lumosinlove ocs#lumosinlove oc#finn x logan x leo
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“Why wasn’t Life is Strange 2 as popular as the first game?”
A lot of people like myself have wondered what exactly made Life is Strange 2 go so relatively unnoticed compared its predecessor, Life is Strange 1. And when you think about it, you may come up with the few obvious generic answers, such as the lack of Max and Chloe and just the original cast in general. However, I think there was a lot more at play here that prevented Life is Strange 2 from reaching the amount of success/popularity the first game had. So I want to take the time and break down what exactly happened to Life is Strange 2 and the things that hurt the game’s ability to really connect with the audience of LiS1.
Disclaimer: We do NOT know how well Life is Strange 2 was for Dontnod and if it was a success or not. No sales numbers have been given out to the public so there’s no way of knowing for sure how well the game did. What we do know is that LiS2 did not receive the same amount of attention/popularity as the first game. That can’t be denied, it simply didn’t. However, based on the fact that Dontnod have recently announced they are working on six new games at the moment and are now expanding their studio, even if LiS2 was a “flop” it doesn’t seem to have had much of an effect on them (most likely due to the success of Vampyr). Dontnod is going to be fine either way. Another thing I want to mention is that this is not a anti-LiS2 post and that I am a fan of the game. I’d consider myself a pretty big fan actually. I have my problems with the game of course and don’t agree with a lot of the writing decisions but I enjoyed the game very much overall. But for the sake of this post I will try to be as unbiased as possible, giving out only what I’ve observed when it comes to reactions from the fandom on different websites and forums. So with that all being said, let’s dive in to this.
Here I will be listing the many different reasons as to why Life is Strange 2 failed to reach the same amount of popularity as LiS1 or even BtS managed to achieve. This list isn’t in any particular order but some reasons are bigger/more important than others.
For some background, there was a lot of hype going into Life is Strange 2. The teaser trailer for it with the cop car trended at #2 on YouTube, a huge feat for the series. It generated immense amount of views and comments in a short period in time, completely surpassing Before the Storm’s announcement trailer in just a few weeks. So what exactly happened to all that hype? Where did everybody go? Well, let’s break everything down.
1. The lack of Max and Chloe: Yes I said that this list wouldn’t be in any particular order in terms of importance but I think it’s obvious this one is one of, if not the biggest reason as to why LiS2 failed to match LiS1’s popularity. When the protagonists Sean and Daniel were first revealed, the reception was pretty divisive. Specifically, a very vocal part of the community were baffled and disappointed at the lack of Max and Chloe present within the trailer and subsequently the game itself. This instantly turned off a lot of people from the game, as they couldn’t connect with the new characters or simply didn’t want to. At that point in the franchise Max and Chloe as well as the original cast from the first game had been the face of the series for almost three years. It’s understandable why it was hard for people to just…move on. To this day people are still asking for Max and Chloe to return. The Life is Strange subreddit is still dominated with Max and Chloe fanart. Whenever the social media accounts for Life is Strange post anything Max and Chloe related it gets way more attention compared to a post about Sean and Daniel. Whenever a post online goes viral about Life is Strange you can bet it’s most likely about Max and Chloe. Hell the only reason why episode 5 of Life is Strange 2 trended on Tumblr was because of the fucking picture of Max and Chloe. On the releas day of episode 5 of LiS2 the top post on the subreddit was the Max and Chloe picture. It was almost as if that one photo of them completely overshadowed the entire episode. Point is, Life is Strange 2 lost a lot of momentum the moment it was revealed Max and Chloe would not be present. Case closed, let’s move on.
2. The release schedule: Words cannot describe how frustrating the release schedule was for LiS2 when it came to it’s episodes. For those reading this who didn’t follow LiS2 until the game was finished, each episode took around 3-4 months to be released. This was because Dontnod bit off a bit more than they could chew with the road trip story in having to create new locations and character models from scratch. The reason why this wasn’t a problem for LiS1 was because Max was for the most part always in the same locations around the same characters (I’m pretty sure you roam around Chloe’s house like 4 times throughout the season), which made development a lot easier since the devs could just reuse a lot of the assets. Unfortunately, this wasn’t possible for LiS2 due to the nature of it’s story. The wait times between each episode made a lot of people leave the fandom due to loosing interest or simply forgetting about the game altogether. This also impacted youtubers/streamers as many of them either stopped coming back to play the new episodes or they’d not be as connected as they were in the previous episode due to the amount of time that had passed. One of the reasons why LiS1 gained so much popularity was because of youtubers/streamers and how they would bring in their audience and would pretty much make them fans of the series. With quite a handful of youtubers/streamers quitting LiS2, the game was not able to draw in as much of an audience as previous games did. This is how detreminetal the release schedule was for LiS2.
3. The marketing (or lack thereof): Square Enix really fucked up on this aspect. Due to the ridiculous wait times you would think Square Enix would try and advertise the game heavily when a new episode was about to be released, right? Well they didn’t. Not at all actually. Throughout the games release schedule from September 2018 up to December 2019, I had not seen a single ad for the game. Nothing on YouTube, nothing on reddit or any other websites, it was like Square Enix had completely forgotten about the game’s existence. Now don’t get me wrong, SE did do a few things with LiS2 like starting up the community series on their YouTube channel and also the dev updates that came after episode 1 (that stopped after episode 2 for some reason) but these went relatively unnoticed to people outside of the fandom and did pretty much nothing. I believe SE was trying to wait until the game was fully complete with all of it’s episodes released before actually marketing the game (and they DID start advertising the game after episode 5 came out) but that’s just WAAAY too long to go without any type of advertisement. I understand marketing teams have budgets and what not, but you’re telling me there was no way for SE to market each episode in anyway as they were about to be released? Seems a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?
4. The road trip story: I completely understand why Dontnod wanted to branch out and do something different with the story of Life is Strange 2 and I respect them for stepping out of their comfort zones. However, it can’t be denied that the road trip story where characters are cycled in and out as Sean and Daniel make their way to Mexico was a very…questionable decision. Seeing as how LiS1 was loved for it’s world filled with a reoccurring cast of characters that developed as the story went on, it’s really easy to understand why LiS2 was so off-putting for a lot of fans. It was off-putting for me, even. It just…wasn’t fun having to leave these truly interesting characters behind because the plot demanded it. This left a lot of characters feeling underdeveloped to many people and by the time you meet new characters you already know they’re most likely gonna be gone soon anyways, so it made it even harder to connect with them. Couple this with the fact that LiS2 lacked any type of mystery unlike LiS1, speculation and discussion fizzled out a few weeks after each episode was released. LiS1 kept people speculating and wondering about what would happen next, while LiS2 left a lot of people struggling to care.
5. Politics: Yeeeeaaaaah I think I had to put this somewhere on the list. While many of the people who tease and mock how LiS2 handled its political topics were most likely not fans of the series anyway (the type of people who called LiS1 “Life is Tumblr” and hate Chloe), I do think it’s important to realize that some people just don’t want politics in their games, period. I’ve seen people online come out and say that while they agreed with what the writers were saying when it came to the political topics, it overall still came off very forced and one-sided to them, lacking any type of nuance or subtlety. I could write an entire essay discussing if the politics in LiS2 were handled well and whatnot but this is not that post so I’ll just leave it at that.
6: Lack of a prominent female cast/wlw: This is a bit more tricky to talk about (for the record the person writing this is a black gay guy) but I will try and write about this the best way I can. For many women, specifically queer women, Life is Strange was a series they could expect representation from. Max, Chloe, Rachel, and Steph are all popular characters amongst the fandom and even other wlw ships such as Marshfield, Chasefield, Chaseprice, etc are popular. So when LiS2 was revealed to be about two (hispanic) males, the queer women within the community were understandably upset. It felt like DN were simply throwing away the community that for the most part made up the entire fandom. At the time I simply found the situation ridiculous and overblown as many people were dismissing Sean and Daniel as “generic straight males” (even though it turned out Sean was bisexual in the end) before really getting to know them. However, looking back I totally get why people were upset. A lot of the fanart/fanfiction that was made for the LiS series was mostly created by queer women, so when the franchise pretty much stopped giving them representation, they left in search of other media (like She-Ra, which honestly has better wlw rep anyway). LiS2 is also mostly male dominated in terms of its cast, and features no queer women as well, which is really disappointing in my opinion.
7. Price: This one is pretty simple. When Life is Strange 2 was first released the full season costed $40. This was a pretty big jump in comparison to LiS1’s $20 price tag (original price was $25 however) and BtS’s $16. Obviously people would be more skeptical about buying a sequel that is pretty much double the price of its predecessor and has completely new characters. With the pretty mixed reception from gaming communities I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of people saw the price and decided to either watch a playthrough or simply not check out the game at all. With the first episode now free the base price has been lowered to around $30-32 I believe so yeah.
8. Daniel Diaz: Some people just don’t like kids, and I wouldn’t be surprised if people grew easily frustrated with Daniel early on and once he got more irrational and bratty as the story progressed they just stopped playing altogether. Even if you do like kids, or at least don’t mind them like myself, Daniel can still be quite a pain.
9. Not having control of the powers: This one is honestly really disappointing and I know it was to a lot of other people as well. In LiS1 Max had the ability to rewind time and do certain scenarios and conversations over and that basically acted as the more interesting gameplay segments. In LiS2 Sean doesn’t have the power, his brother Daniel does. This leads to the gameplay feeling much more boring and mundane. There are also no interesting puzzles this time around, most likely because Dontnod didn’t know how to implement them without the rewind power so they just…didn’t even attempt to add any. The power itself, telekinesis, is also much less interesting compared to rewinding time, according to a lot of people.
SO YEAH that’s basically it for me. I know this probably came off a bit rambly/incoherent but I tried my best to be as clear as I possibly could. I don’t doubt there are other reasons at play as to why LiS2 failed to meet LiS1’s success (such as liscensed music not being quite as good as LiS1) but I think I hit the main points I believe were key reasons. And the thing is, there isn’t just one main reason why LiS2 didn’t do as well as LiS1. It’s overall very unfortunate so many things went wrong with it that ended up making people lose interest in it. I think the lack of Max and Chloe hurt the game the most right off the bat, but the other reasons just led it to do even worse. Oh well.
I hope any of the people who read this enjoyed it (it was a BITCH to write). I’ve been wanting to get my thoughts down about this for SO long but just never had the motivation/time but I finally did it!
Again, thanks for reading! If you have any disagreements or just thoughts in general don’t be afraid to reply or dm me about it and I’ll be sure to reply! Now back to reblogging Marco posts….
#lis2#lis#life is strange#life is strange 2#max caulfield#chloe price#sean diaz#daniel diaz#lis2 spoilers#pricefield#amberprice
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