#this show continues to be wild as fuck in the worst and best ways possible
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ASDSGFDSGDF finally had time to watch the new mlb eps,,,, AND
#this show continues to be wild as fuck in the worst and best ways possible#as has been stated by people before its a bad show in the best way#do wish they werent doing this to chloe but i did like her tiny moments of reflection when looking at her phone n after#idk like i think a really interesting n fun redemption could actually be done with her from this point#cus shes driven away Everyone and fucked shit up so bad and i think it could be really cool so see a character in that situation#decide to try n do better#i know the show runners wont do that But#anyway im having lots of fun with the new eps#do wish wed gotten a proper flashback for the agreste lore#but i Love that felix was like yeah we need to get marinette on our side#i know what to do lets do a fucking weird as hell play#which is exactly what my ttrp group just did to start a revolution so like#seems to be a common idea#rambles#mlb
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Confessions of a Dirty Mind | Bang Chan
Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader
Genre: smut, and they were roommates!, porn with the barest of plots, a little fluff
Rating: M (18+)
Warnings: incredibly thirsty pining, reader’s a bit feral for her roommate, the giggles will be deployed as a weapon, reader drops the d word (daddy) in her dirty thoughts but never says it out loud, accidental texts, body worship (abs, thighs, breasts - everything gets praised), love bites/marking, grinding, chan is thick everywhere, chan throws reader around a little, hints at dom!chan, fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), facefucking, cum eating, reader is kind of an idiot but that's okay!, I wrote this out of a dire need to s this man’s d
Word Count: 6.5K
Disclaimers: NSFW; obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me
Summary: The absolute last thing you want is for your roommate to find out just how much you want him. Right?
A/N: Well, as threatened promised, I'm writing for Stray Kids now in addition to BTS! This came out of absolutely nowhere last week. I've just got Bang Chan brainrot 24/7 now, so that's cool. Thanks to @minttangerines @bangtanintotheroom @sugalaritae for their support (and amazing Aussie accents!!) 💕
Unbeta'd as usual. Please let me know what you think! Like if you'd like to see more skz fics from me… that would fuel me to keep writing. If everyone hates this I'm quitting writing and moving to the wild to live with the koalas ✌️
Being roommates with your crush is its own special type of torture. Always being so close to what you want but never being able to touch. To taste. To feel.
You weren’t always this feral. Once upon a time, you were normal. Well-adjusted, even. Then you had to move for your job and needed to find a place to stay fast and your best friend Minho just happened to know someone looking for a roommate.
Honestly, looking back, it was too easy. Should’ve known there’d be a catch. And that catch was your sanity.
Because Minho’s friend Bang Chan turned out to be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.
Listen. A lot of people use phrases like that all the time, “the hottest man you’ve ever seen,” some hyperbole they say for ridiculous effect, but you mean it. You have never seen anyone as beautiful as this man, with his chiseled cheekbones, thick lips, and those dimples.
Fuck. Those dimples. Almost as maddening as the washboard abs he’s constantly showing off. You didn’t know a person could be allergic to shirts until you met Chan.
And now you’re suffering. Every. Damn. Day.
It’s not just that he’s the most gorgeous man on the planet. No, that would be hurtful enough, but he’s also kind. Smart. Silly as hell. You’re constantly plagued by his sweet smiles and unbelievably adorable giggles.
The worst part, though, is the way he can flip between sexy and soft instantaneously. Like when the two of you argue over something stupid. All of your arguments are fundamentally stupid. The two of you get on so fucking well, the only things you argue over are opinions on pointless things. Like last night, when you’d joined him for a beer while he watched tv.
“You’re out of your mind,” Chan had declared, twisting sideways on the couch to look at you. “There’s no way a koala could possibly defeat a kangaroo in a cage match!”
“Sure it could.”
“No, it could not!” Chan let loose a flurry of high-pitched giggles. “Have you ever seen a kangaroo? Those things are ripped! One kick or punch, and the koala’s out.” He mimed a powerful punch.
You tipped back the remainder of your beer before pointing the bottle at him. “Yes it could! Think about it - what do koalas do?” When he just blinked, you continued. “They climb! And what do koalas usually have?” Again, a blank stare. “Syphilis! So… think about it! All that little guy has to do is climb up the kangaroo, give him some germs, and boom! Kangaroo goes down.” You grin smugly. “There’s a reason they call syphilis the silent killer.”
Chan fixed you with his signature Look™, the one you think of as “stern dom daddy” - thick eyebrows drawn, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, dark eyes scanning your face - and you felt your knees go weak. Then he blinded you with the full sunshiny force of his smile, eyes closing, dimples popping.
“That is an absolutely insane argument, not to mention completely incorrect. I don’t even know where to start explaining why you’re wrong.” He paused. “No, actually, let’s start with the fact that it’s chlamydia, not syphilis, that koalas get, and go from there.” By the time he’d finished and you’d finally conceded that a kangaroo would probably win, the two of you were nearly in tears from laughing.
His duality is whiplash-inducing. And always leaves you in ruins.
So when your feelings overwhelm you, when you feel like you’re absolutely bursting at the seams with need, you do what you always do. Torture Minho.
Your bff is used to you venting to him about your crippling inability to make a move. On anyone. Ever. Over the years, he’s weathered dozens of crushes that never went anywhere because while you’re definitely a total treasure, you lack the confidence to make any of your (usually horny) dreams come true. He’s come to expect the endless text messages you send.
Except that now, “messages” might not be the right word for them. “Unhinged ravings” might be more accurate.
Ughhhh he’s so damn fine
Today he came home from the gym all sweaty and I nearly offered to give him a bath
With my tongue. My TONGUE Minho!
Like he’s always done, Minho bears it all in stride with his usual unwavering compassion.
You’re a lunatic
He doesn’t even try to convince you to say something to Chan about your feelings anymore. Now he just waits for you to exhaust yourself and then he changes the subject. Usually by sending photos of his cats.
It’s an odd friendship, but neither of you would trade it for anything.
At the moment, you’re ignoring your pain by lying on your bed, in a tee and sweats, watching a movie on your laptop. You can hear your roommate rummaging around his room. Your apartment features a Jack and Jill bathroom, so it’s easy for you to hear what’s going on next door through the adjoining space.
“Channie, why are you pacing around?” you call out.
Your phone buzzes.
Trying to find my shirt
“Are you seriously texting me from the next room?” Pausing your movie, you trudge through the bathroom. The door to Chan’s room is open so you don’t bother to knock, flopping down on his bed as he digs through his closet. He’s shirtless as usual, blond curls shaking with the force of his rummaging.
“Yeah, sorry, ‘m in a hurry and didn’t want to stop looking,” Chan admits sheepishly, throwing a grin over his shoulder at you. You ignore the fluttering in your stomach and get comfortable, resting your head on your arms.
“You could’ve just said it out loud. I can hear you all over this apartment.” It’s not a big space. Which only amplifies your angst, as it’s hard to escape from your desires when the source of it is just constantly right there. Sprawling out on the tiny couch in the living room. Making himself a midnight snack in the kitchen. Lounging on your bed while you sit at your desk, trying not to stare at his reflection on your screen. “What shirt are you looking for?”
“My tiger tank.”
You know the shirt he’s speaking of - his white tank top with an embroidered tiger’s head on the chest. It’s a favorite of yours, cut low enough on the sides and in the front to show off his biceps and pecs at the same time. The first time you’d seen Chan in it, Minho had accused you of being a vampire because you couldn’t stop talking about how much you wanted to nibble on his collarbones.
“Ah! Found it!” Chan raises the shirt over his head victoriously before yanking it on. He takes a moment to inspect himself in his mirror and you wonder if he truly recognizes just how stunning he is. He catches your eye in the reflection. “What are you up to tonight? Wanna come out with me, ‘Lix, & ‘Bin? We’re gonna get some drinks.”
Sure, you’d love to hang out at the bar with Chan and his friends. They’re always a good time. Except when closing time arrives and once again you’re forced to bear witness to your roommate getting hit on by basically every woman in the bar. Not that you can blame them. But it’s especially awful on the nights when he leaves with someone else. You’d rather not deal with that tonight.
“Nah, I’m just gonna relax. But thanks.”
“Come on,” he wheedles, plopping down on the bed, hard enough to make you bounce a little. “You haven’t been out with us in ages. Is it the guys? Did one of them say something stupid?”
“They always say stupid shit. That’s all they ever say,” you crack, smiling when Chan laughs. “But no, it’s nothing like that. I’m just tired.”
Chan doesn’t say anything, just looks at you for a moment. The silence makes you inexplicably nervous, and you fiddle with his comforter for want of something to do with your hands. But then he just nods. “‘Kay. But if you change your mind, we’ll be down at Back Door.”
“Thanks.”
Chan heads into the bathroom to play with his hair. You slip past him, back into your room, throwing yourself dramatically onto your bed and burying your face in a plush pillow. How much longer can you stand this?
You grab your phone.
I’m losing my mind
You can practically hear the sigh in Minho’s voice as you read his response.
What did Chan do now?
He’s getting ready to go out with Felix and Changbin
He looks so fucking good in those tight jeans
Minho doesn’t reply. He knows to just let you get it out of your system before responding.
My mouth is literally watering
It’s a Pavlovian response at this point
I see denim and I start salivating
A text alert pops up in the middle of your thirsty ranting.
Hey do you mind if I borrow your eyeliner?
“Stop texting me when you’re 10 feet away!” you yell, laughing. Chan pops his head out of the bathroom and flashes you that grin, the one that turns your insides to goo, and you sigh. “Of course you can borrow it, you know you can.”
Thanks
“Chan!”
His giggles float through the door and your thumbs fly.
Seriously
If Chan doesn’t let me s his d one of these days I will die
I will be the first person to die from ineedtosuckadick-itis
There’s a loud clattering in the bathroom, like someone’s knocked half the contents of the crowded sink counter onto the floor. Your makeup isn't cheap, so you hop up off your bed.
“You okay in there?” The first thing you notice is the pile of smashed cosmetics on the ground. The second thing is the way your roommate is staring at you, eyes wide, sharpened kohl liner still clutched in one hand, phone in the other. “What? What’s wrong?”
Chan doesn’t speak, but raises his phone and kind of waves it limply.
Oh god. You were in the wrong chat. You were in the wrong chat and now Chan knows you want to suck his dick. You’ve been texting for most of your life and this is the moment your brain decides to fuck up?!
As Chan continues to stare, you realize you have two choices: fess up and own it, or play dumb.
It’s no choice.
“What, uhhhhhhh, what’s up?”
Chan gestures to his phone. “You want to suck my dick?” He says the words as if they’re unfamiliar to him, like he’s trying them out for the first time.
Well, shit, how are you supposed to play dumb if he’s just going to call you right out?
“Guess the cat’s out of the horny bag now,” you mutter under your breath.
Chan cocks his head. “What?”
“Nothing,” you cough, looking at your own phone. “I mean, uh, noooo, what? Minho and I were just, um, talking about how I want to, uh, sssssss…” you glance wildly around the cramped room, hissing like a frantic snake as you fail to come up with another word that starts with s, before your eyes land on an empty glass sitting by the sink. “…Share a drink with you? Because I’m… thirsty?”
“You’re thirsty?”
Fucking understatement.
You can’t quite read the expression on Chan’s face as he glances between you and his phone. There’s a flash of dom daddy in there and then it’s gone.
“YN. I know what ‘s his d’ means. Also, you said you had - what did you call it? Ineedtosuckadickitis.” You think Chan’s lips quirk slightly as he reminds you of your textual idiocy, but you’re too busy trying to psychically rip a hole in the floor so you can disappear forever to be certain. “Where do you get your medical info, by the way? I’m starting to worry.”
He’s making light of the situation, which you would appreciate more if you weren’t sure you’re about to die from embarrassment. Your mind is reeling. There’s no way to get out of this. Any second now, he’s gonna realize how you feel. Then he’s gonna let you down. Gently, you hope. Then you’re gonna need to find a new place to live, because there’s no recovering from this.
“Fine.” You take a deep breath. “Yes, I said it.” Unable to look him in the eye, you focus on your phone as you speak. “I was telling Minho how much I want to suck your dick, because I’m a disgusting horny monster who can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go pack up my room now.” Shoulders slumping, you slink away, hoping he won’t follow.
He does. “Wait, what?”
You don’t answer, heading directly for your closet, tugging at your suitcase where it lies on a shelf, and he crowds into your space, arms reaching out to stop you.
“Oi, slow down! What are you doing?”
“I’ll try to be out quickly, so you can find a new roommate right away.” You keep pulling on the suitcase, but it’s futile. He barely has to exert any strength to push it back, so you give up.
“YN.” Chan places his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. It’s probably the closest you’ve ever been, standing face to face like this, and the nearness of him is a little dizzying. “Back up. You don’t have to go anywhere. Just talk to me.” He lightly guides you over to your bed, taking a seat next to you. “Why do you think I’d want you to leave?”
“Because I'm a gross little gremlin who can’t stop objectifying you?” you answer honestly.
Chan’s eyes widen before he bursts into laughter. “You know, you’ve said a lot of bonkers things in the months you’ve been living here, but… how does wanting to suck my dick make you a ‘gross little gremlin?’”
Oh no. You can feel it bubbling up inside you, all the things you’ve felt. All the things you’ve said. Oh, you’re going to tell him, aren’t you?
“It’s not just sucking your dick.” Grabbing your phone, you open your chat with Minho again, and begin to read. “‘I need Chan to destroy me. Fully. Like I’m a piece of wood and he’s a lumberjack. Just split me in half. With his hands or his dick, I’m not picky.’” Your entire body radiates with humiliation. You’re a tiny sun made of molecules of mortification, on the verge of going supernova. “Um. That’s one example. And there’s more. A lot more.”
And then you hand him your phone, looking away as he starts to scroll.
You stare at the wall, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Until the quiet gets to you, and you give in, peering at him, expecting to find him frozen again, or worse, looking sickened by your words.
Instead you find him smiling. And then he starts to giggle.
“‘I’m going feral,” he reads. “‘He’s wearing that beanie again. I- ’” His laughing gets louder as he struggles to finish the thought. “‘I want him to wear me instead.’” He glances up at you, eyes glimmering with way too much amusement. “What does that even mean?!”
You groan, yanking your shirt up to cover your face. “Chan, stop!” He merely laughs harder. How can he be enjoying this? You’ve never known him to be cruel. “I get it, I’m awful, you don’t have to laugh!”
But he keeps chuckling, and then you feel his hands on your hips. Like a bewildered turtle, you poke your head out of your shirt, and he just smiles.
“C’mere.” He keeps tugging at you until you scoot closer, swinging your legs over his lap, and pulls you in for a hug.
It’s better than you ever imagined. His strong arms lock around your waist, keeping you in place as his chest continues to rumble with his apparently endless mirth. Tentatively, you let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, afraid that if you cling too tightly, he’ll let go.
Chan leans back to grin at you. “You’re so fucking cute.”
You’re so fucking confused. “I am?”
“Yeah.” His fingers rub light circles into your lower back. The sensation is somehow both soothing and invigorating, sending sparks directly to the heat already simmering in your gut. “Just adorable.”
You’re not adorable, you’re a dirty little freak whose mind is constantly churning out trash, but if that’s what he wants to believe, you’ll take it.
“You’re not disturbed by all the things I’ve said?”
“Disturbed? Nah. I’m used to the crazy shit you say.” He’s got a point. You do say a lot of crazy shit. Just not usually about him to him. “Besides, d’you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something?”
“About your dick??”
Chan tosses his head back, jostling you with his laughter. “No, you maniac, just something in general! Something to tell me that you like me.” When he meets your gaze again, you’re met with that Look™, and this time those sparks head straight for your cunt. “That you want me. Because…”
He trails off, hands gripping your sides, shifting you. Until you feel it. Poking directly into your thigh.
“Oh!”
“Yeah. Oh.” Chan licks his lips. When did his eyes get so dark? “Because I want you too, you absolute fruit loop. Took me a minute to get my bearings, wasn’t expecting you to confess it in a text like that, or with those exact words, but…” He smirks. “I’m good now.”
His thumb traces your jawline before he cups your chin. The gentle touch sends shivers rippling through you. His eyes drop to your lips.
“You good?”
Funnily enough, somehow, you are.
“Yeah. I’m good,” you whisper, tipping forward to close the space between you.
Amazingly, despite the unyielding need to just yeet yourself onto him, you manage to hold back, simply leaning in to the kiss instead. Those plush lips that you’ve raved about feel unbelievable as they caress yours. So soft and tender, like the warmth spreading through you as he tightens his hold. Then he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moan, loud and wanton, unable to control the sound, and he drops his hands to your hips again, gripping insistently.
“C’mere,” he commands again, voice husky as his fingers hook into your sweats. “Come closer.” He exhales heavily. “Please.”
Please? He has no idea how little he needs to beg right now. As if you’re not dying to get as close as you can! In the blink of an eye, you throw your leg over his, straddling him. His hands wrap around you again, like he can’t stand not having them on you for a second. You understand the feeling.
You’re bolder now with your kisses, nipping and licking eagerly. A particularly sharp bite on his pouty lip makes him gasp in surprise, and you press your tongue into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut in sheer ecstasy when he sucks in response. The incessant throbbing of your clit is slightly relieved when Chan’s hips buck upwards, pushing his erection against you more firmly. He swallows your whines, breathes them back out in the form of his own groans.
The need for air eventually overwhelms you after a few minutes, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away from his face.
“Aren’t you going to be late?” you pant, marveling at how red and swollen Chan’s lips are from kissing. The urge to dive back in before you’ve gotten enough oxygen into your system to keep from passing out is strong. “To meet the guys?”
“You really think I’m gonna leave now?” Chan huffs a laugh as he gazes at you from beneath lowered eyelids, looking as dazed as you feel, and you realize, shit, Minho’s right, you are a vampire, and you’re about to eat this man alive. “Fuck no. Besides, what kind of terrible roommate would I be if I left you at death’s door?”
“If you - what?”
More high-pitched giggles fill the room. How can he be so cute while actively grinding his cock against you like this? “Your disease. Remember? Ineedadickitis.”
“I need to suck a dick,” you correct him.
“Oh, do you? Well, go on then.” He cracks up completely, bouncing you with the force of his laughter as you sit there dumbly for half a second before snapping to.
“You’re so stupid, oh my god!” With a howl, you push him away. He goes easily, until he’s lying on his back on your bed, still cackling while he swats away your fake punches. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” His fingers lock around your wrists and with a gentle jerk you’re lying on top of him, your arms pinned between you. Before you can try to pretend that he’s wrong, try to mount yet another one of your dumb arguments, despite knowing full well that he's right, he kisses you again.
As soon as he releases your hands, you tangle them in his hair. His hands trace down your back to grab the swell of your ass, crushing you flat against him, chest to chest. He suddenly breaks off the kiss.
“Are you not wearing a bra?”
You shake your head and he groans, sitting up, taking you with him. His fingers curl in the hem of your top, twisting it upwards.
“Shirt off. Now.” His voice drops an octave and you shudder, quickly obeying his order. Then you grip his tank top.
“You too.”
He reaches behind his head to peel the fabric off, tossing it on the floor. Then he lays back, propping himself up on his elbows as you openly gawk at his stomach.
“Fuck.” He’s transfixed by your chest.
“Jesus.” You’re mesmerized. From this close, you can see a faint trail of fine hair that runs down, cutting through the carved lines of his abs, like an arrow pointing to your desired destination. “Unreal.”
“You can touch, if you’d like,” Chan grins up at you, obviously enjoying your reaction.
You roll your eyes but do anyway, dragging your fingertips over his abs. His stomach twitches beneath your touch. Before you can get too far, he wiggles his hips, playfully jostling you out of your concentration.
“Can I touch, too?”
“Jesus, yes, of course!” Grabbing his hands, you place one on each breast. “Touch me already!”
He doesn’t waste any time, rolling your nipples between his fingers, waking the buds. You arch into him, his abs forgotten as he leans forward to take your left breast in his mouth.
“Shit, Channie,” you whimper, combing his hair out of his face so you can watch him suckle away. He hums into you, swirling his tongue over your nipple, around and around, before dragging his tongue across to the other breast.
“You like that, baby?” he asks, covering your chest with kisses.
Baby? Did he really just call you baby? Is this really happening, or did you slip into one of your daydreams again?
Nope, the hard dick rolling into the apex of your thighs as you grind down on him feels pretty real. You can’t help but moan, wondering what he looks like under those tight jeans. Is he as thick as you imagine?
Wait, why are you still trying to imagine anything? He’s literally underneath you right now.
Your hand splays on his torso as you guide him onto his back again. Slowly, you lower yourself over him, and drag your mouth down his neck. Clearly, you’d interrupted his going out routine earlier, because he’s not wearing his normal cologne right now. Instead, the heady scent you inhale as you stick your nose into the hollow of his clavicles is pure Chan, musky and comforting.
“Ah, that tickles!” he hisses.
“Sorry.” You press a heavy kiss to his collarbone. “Is that better?” He nods, right before you sink your teeth in.
“Nnngh!” He lets out a throaty groan as you happily suck a love bite into his delicate skin. God, the noises this man makes! You want to record them and play them on a loop.
You slip further down, dragging your fingernails over one of Chan’s nipples, watching his face for his reaction. A tiny “oh!” escapes him, and you repeat the motion, grinning when his back lifts off the bed. Sensitive. This is going to be fun.
Chan raises his head when you start to kiss his abs, taking the time to lick along the ridges as you go, the salty tang of his sweat lingering on your lips. When your hands play with the skin above his waistband, he clears his throat. “You know, you don’t have to do this, just because of that text.”
“Are you kidding me?” You pause with your fingers on the button of his fly. “You want me to stop now?”
“I just don’t want you to think I expect anything.” Although his voice is a little shaky, like he’s trying to calm himself down, you hear the sincerity in his words. The sweetness. That warmth inside you roars into a flame.
“Channie. I want this. Do you want this?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Thank god,” you sigh, unzipping his fly. He helps you peel off his tight jeans and you make quick work of his silk boxers beneath. Nudging his legs apart, you kneel between them
For a moment just you stare at the sight in front of you. You were right. He’s thick. Maybe a little longer than most of the dicks you’ve been happy to be acquainted with, maybe not, but definitely thicker.
You want to sit on him so bad. But first you want to please him, want to taste him. So much want.
While you’re dicknotized, Chan stuffs your pillows under his head so he can have a better angle. You glance at his face and find him biting his lip, eyes looking a little desperate. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you.
Might as well put him out of his misery. With a lick of your palm, you wrap your hand around him, and pump a few shallow strokes. He grunts at the sudden slickness, abdomen jumping slightly.
“Ah, baby, just like that,” he says, eyes closing when you roll your thumb over the tip a few times. “Shit.”
Your tongue darts out to follow, dipping around the head and back over, before you take it into your mouth. Just the tip, bobbing off, then a little more, then again. Each time you sink lower, he sighs.
“Fuck, that feels so good. Keep going, take it all in.”
Oh god, is he a talker? You’re already impossibly wet. You can’t possibly handle getting any more aroused.
While your mouth is occupied, you lift your leg so you’re straddling one of Chan’s, resting a palm on his big thigh. You have obsessed over his thighs since the day you moved in. You refer to them as “the thunder from down under” in your texts to Minho. And here they are now, so strong and sturdy beneath you. Wild.
Chan hisses when you deepthroat him, brushing your nose against his pelvis. Even though you pride yourself on your dick-sucking skills, you can’t help but choke slightly. More saliva floods into your mouth, and you swallow around him.
“Oh, shit!” His hips rise up a little. You use both hands, one trying to hold him down by his hip while the other strokes in tandem with your mouth. There’s drool everywhere, and the sounds the wetness makes sounds lewd even for porn. “Baby, this mouth of yours! Feels better than I ever imagined.”
Air rushes into your lungs as you pull off, replacing your mouth with your other hand. “You thought about this?” He fantasized about you, too?
“Oh fuck yeah,” he growls. “All the time. Thought those pretty lips would look so good choking on me, and I was right.” He thrusts a little, rocking his dick up into your slippery grip. “Used to dream about fucking it.”
You moan so brokenly, he looks at you in concern.
“Please,” you lick his darkened head almost frantically, “do it.”
Chan studies you for a moment, brows knitting together, before he pushes your head down.
“That’s it, go down for me,” he directs you, and you listen. “Just stay there. Let me do the work now.”
He starts slowly, tilting his pelvis a little, fucking up into your waiting mouth. Then he cants his hips a little faster. His breathing gets heavier the harder he thrusts. Once he finds a steady rhythm, he lays his hand on the back of your head keeping you exactly where he wants you.
You squirm restlessly as Chan fucks your throat. Having your roommate use your mouth as a sex toy is incredibly hot. Finally, you slide your hand into your sweats to give yourself some relief. Your clit is engorged, practically beating like a heart between your fingers. You let out a pleased moan, vibrating down Chan’s cock.
“Do that again, baby.”
You’re not denying this man anything. Again and again, you make him curse as your hums resonate across his sensitive skin. He trembles a little, and it’s intoxicating to think that you might be breaking down this big, strong roommate of yours, reducing him to a quivering mess.
At the very least, it’s something to aim for.
Chan praises you again. “God damn it, that’s good. Gonna make me cum with that pretty mouth.”
You suck and swallow and moan and rub yourself, feeling Chan’s thigh flex beneath you, and it hits you what he said, that you’re about to get Chan off, you, so you reach out, raking your hand up the inside of his thigh until you find his balls, squeezing gently.
“I’m gonna cum, shit, ’m gonna cum,” he moans, words slurring together. “Where, baby?”
You stop touching yourself so you can grip the hand of his that rests on your head. He gets the point, pace not slowing, and with a few more powerful pumps, and some stuttered exhalations, he fills your mouth. You take it all, swallowing noisily and gasping for breath once he pulls out.
“Fuckin’ hell.”
He laughs as he says it. Your shoulders shake as you half-laugh, half-wheeze, slumping over on Chan’s thigh.
“Is that a compliment?”
“Fuck yeah,” he grins. “And I’m guessing from the sounds you were making, you enjoyed that as well? Just maybe not quite as much as me?”
You shrug. “I got what I wanted.”
“Yeah, okay, maybe, but I bet you’d like more, hmm?” Without waiting for a response, he swiftly flips you onto your back. Just hauls you right over like you’re made of feathers. A rash of ridiculously giddy giggles burst past your lips, but they die away when he crawls up your body, the power of his gaze pinning you in place, and drops hungry lips onto yours.
Immediately, you surge up into him, pressing as close as you can. Both of you are glistening with sweat, his hair sticking to his face and yours as he licks into your mouth, hot and wet. You’re drowning in him. It’s everything you ever wanted. How the fuck can you possibly want more? But you do, and this feeling makes itself known as you start to whimper needily.
Chan’s hand quickly locates your breast, tenderly cupping your flesh. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are? So pretty.”
You preen at his words, humming contentedly. Fuck. Do you have a praise kink, or is it just that Chan’s the one saying these words that is getting you more worked up? You roll your hips, seeking friction, and Chan’s hand slides downward until he reaches where you need him.
“Oh, baby, so wet,” he says, voice hushed, almost reverent. “Just dying to be touched, yeah? Let me help you.”
With sure movements, lithe fingers stroke along your lips, opening you up. Fingertips squeeze your clit, playing with the aching pearl, causing you to squeal, and you could die, having made such a sound, except you’ve clearly already died and gone to heaven.
Even as his hand rubs, his lips never leave yours. You thrash in his grip when he slides a finger inside you, finding your g-spot with surprising quickness and pressing the fuck out of it, and he still chases your mouth, covering your chin in kisses. Your legs kick out as he alternates between fondling your clit and stroking your walls, until he suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out so he can rid you of your sweats.
“You still with me?” he asks, kneeling between your legs, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, sucking in air like a fish. You must be a mess, if your appearance matches how you feel. But you’re also excruciatingly aroused and frustrated, so close to coming that you’re ready to blow.
“Yes. I’m here, I’m good.”
“Good.” The Look™️ is back. He grabs your legs and bends them, pushing your thighs into your torso. “Here. Be a good girl and hold these.”
Yes, daddy. You bite your tongue to keep from screaming the words, and grasp your legs behind your knees, pulling them to the side as much as you can, opening you up wide.
“Yes, Channie.”
He smiles at that, eyes so dark you can almost see yourself. “So good for me. Hold tight, baby.”
He sticks out his tongue, eyebrows cocking as he dives down, tracing your folds lightly before flattening the pink muscle and dragging it heavily upwards. You keen as his hot mouth suctions onto your clit. He rolls your clit around with his tongue before flicking it in a quick motion, over and over.
“Jesus!” You’re a live wire, muscles jolting and twitching. As he continues working over the tiny bundle of nerves, his fingers slip inside you again, two this time, scissoring you apart, making room for his tongue.
You gasp as he plunges inside, tracing your inner walls. He’s so loud, the noises his mouth makes as he sucks and laps, and messy, too, slick dripping from his chin when he lifts his face, making sure you’re watching him. Of fucking course you’re watching him. There’s literally nothing else in the world you’d rather be looking at right now than Bang Chan, the hottest man in the galaxy, devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal.
“Tastes so good,” he rasps, turning his face to press sloppy kisses to your inner thigh. “Think you can hold out a little longer? Let me enjoy, yeah?”
At this point, you’re a fucking tinderbox, one spark and you’ll explode, but sure, why not let the man enjoy himself a little more?
“O-okay,” you stutter weakly. “I’ll… try.” You bite your lip. “But maybe…”
Chan brushes his lips over your slit. With a shaky hand, you let your left leg go so you can reach out, brushing some damp locks off his forehead, and he looks at you.
“Maybe a little slower?” you ask.
He smiles, nodding a little. “Got ya.”
Instead of pulling your hand back, you thread your fingers into his hair, and he hums, burying his face again. Only now, his tongue rolls slowly over your cunt, languidly, each pass taking longer and longer. He still keeps the pressure up, makes sure he’s pushing just as firmly against your sensitive folds, still fucks his tongue into you just as deeply as he was before, but now his movements aren’t so frenzied. They feel purposeful, like he’s intent on savoring the moment.
And you realize you should, too. So you barely blink as you observe everything he does - every kiss, every groan, every time his eyes close. You try to commit it all to memory, so you can relive this moment over and over again. In case this is it.
Chan keeps humming, not so much a melody as just wordless sounds, getting louder when your thighs start to squeeze a little. Your hand grips the roots of his hair, not so much guiding him as hanging on. Until he takes your clit in his mouth again, and you cry out, holding him in place.
“Right there, Channie, please!” Your voice breaks as you beg him not to stop. He doesn’t let up, not even when you release your death grip on your right leg, letting it fall over his shoulder like the other one. You dig your fingers into the blanket beneath you, fisting the material. “Fuck, just like that!”
Your hips rise off the bed as you start to hump his face, grinding harder and harder. Chan slides his fingers back into your already clenching hole and finds your g-spot again. You wail helplessly, mind already going, body not far behind, as your muscles start to contract, everything tightening -
“Fuuuuck!”
With a loud groan, you come all over Chan’s face. He keeps tonguing your clit through your orgasm, but has to use his hands to hold your thighs open so he doesn’t asphyxiate. You tug at his hair, riding out the waves of bliss on his mouth.
When you finally relinquish your grasp on his head, he stops. He slides your legs from his arms, then sits back on his heels to examine his handiwork.
You’re a limp noodle. No bones. No muscles. Couldn’t move if you tried. Your climax completely wiped you out, leaving nothing behind. But you’re a very happy noodle, practically purring as you smile at the ceiling.
Chan, on the other hand. Chan appears to be ready for the next round. A point made obvious by the massive erection he’s again sporting. You blink at him a few times.
“I’m going to need a minute.”
He laughs, draping himself over you, arm slung over your stomach, head on your shoulder. “Nah mate, you’re done.”
A rather petulant whine bubbles up from deep within you. “Nooo, I’m good, I’m good!”
You try to reach for his dick, but he catches your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. Which is a surprisingly sweet move, but not what you want right now. It’s not that you don’t want to cuddle with him - if he asked, you’d wrap yourself like a blanket around him and snuggle him for hours.
It’s that you’re not ready for this moment to be over.
“Relax,” he laughs. “Plenty of time for that later. Just rest for a bit.”
“Later?" There’s gonna be a later?
Chan kisses your neck lightly. “Yeah, later. Not done with you yet, baby.”
You sigh, bringing a hand up to stroke his back. Okay. Maybe a little nap is fine. If there’s going to be a later.
Fuck, you can’t wait to text Minho.
Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜
© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.
I don't feel right tagging my usual tl since that was for my BTS writing, so I'm just gonna tag some moots that I think might like this:
@moni-logues @yoongimingyu @borahae-k @nabiolive @jikooknoona @sowoozoo-7 @eoieopda @here4btsfics @candlewaxandp0lar0ids @ballelino @starlostjimin @augustbutwinter @blueversaillesdreams @hobivore @hobi-gif @seokjinger-ale @hannahbee12719 feel free to tell me if I'm way off base, no pressure to actually read! 💕
#stray kids smut#skz smut#bang chan smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#bang chan x reader#skz x reader#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#bang chan imagines#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#skz imagines#fic: coadm#bang chan fanfic
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Ego ~ Blue Oak x GN Reader
Blue's tired of losing to Red, so when he sees you blush and play with your fingers around the stoic man, Blue acts for the sake of his Ego
No pronouns are used - any reader welcome!
Blue, you, and Red had been friends and rivals since you were young kids - you had watched the two of them conquer the pokemon league and the three of you were constantly having battles and eventually hanging out after Blue became less salty about his loses
However, becoming less bitter does't mean in any way shape or form that Blue's ego is any less big, or that he doesn't still see himself as the best of the best; despite his losses!
The main reason to him putting his ego aside and making friends with Red was also less about him moving on and more about trying to win you over...
Blue had developed a crush on you pretty quickly, after starting off your journey amongst the two boys with a cute little Eevee, you and the arrogant man decided to stick together - Blue claiming that you'd die out in wild Kanto with pokemon weaker than his
Initially, Blue just wanted a battle partner and someone to show off to - and he wasn't going to ask Red after losing to him after receiving his starter...
But after hearing your cheers for him in the crowd for 3 gyms in a row, Blue had started to notice how his heart skipped a beat whenever he was near you (which was a lot.)
But the young man kept it to himself all the way into adulthood, swallowing his pride by tolerating Red in order to continue being near you
And Blue had started to really try now! With his intense league journey behind him, the man had fully realised his massive crush on you, and he wasn't going to lose this time, mark his words!
So on the daily, Blue would go out of his way to try and flirt with you - the man constantly near you, showing off his strength by doing things for you, challenging you to battles just to hear your compliments to his skill, and once the man built up enough courage gifts had become a common courtesy!
The tall trainer had made many efforts to ensure you two could hangout one-on-one at least once a week - those days being his favourite, prime time to show off and to enjoy your presence
Your group trip to Alola was where the heat started to get cranked up though - revealing clothing, the hot sun making all of you sweat and slightly delirious, constant adrenaline from battling new trainers, and a whole lotta alcohol in your systems
The subtle flirting between you and Blue had continued throughout the trip via playful banter and gifting souvenirs, and the fact that the slim yet muscular man was wearing his shirt fully open all the time was definitely winning him some bonus points! Blue would catch you staring every so often, stroking the attractive man's ego so nicely~
But a wrench was thrown into Blue's delicate work when he noticed your subtle staring was starting to redirect from him... onto the worst possible person; Red
He'd notice you try to include the quiet man into your conversations, trying to get him to speak or laugh; an obvious blush on your face when the champion spoke a few words with his deep voice
It really fucking pissed Blue off.
The way you'd play with the hem of your shirt or your fingers when talking to Red, a light blush on your face and airy chuckles escaping past your lips - Blue adored it when you'd do those things for him... But the fact that they were aimed towards his rival? The man who crushed his dreams of being the best in Kanto? Blue could hear the scratch of his teeth gritting together at that
It also didn't help that Red took notice of your actions, clearly wearing his shirt unbuttoned like Blue on purpose!
Blue had, had enough
He'd already lost his championship to Red, almost every battle with him had resulted in a loss on the arrogant man's behalf, his own grandfather had congratulated Red but not Blue; his ego had already been shattered to pieces, he wasn't going let Red take you too
So, as you and Red were enjoying the warm Alolan beach, Blue had made his way to you both - his face concealing his frustration pretty effectively, but Blue had never been one to wear his true emotions on his sleeve
You wave the handsome man a 'hi' but had been interrupted when asking him if he was alright; Blue's rough hand wrapping perfectly around your wrist and pulling you away from Red
You barely even had time to protest against Blue's actions before you had been pulled into a changing cabin on the beach, Red still standing on the beach in shock
With your back up a against a wall, Blue had tapped you beneath him - his muscular arms trapping you between the wall and the trainer's muscular, sweaty, warm body - one of his arms above your head and the other grasping your shoulder
"Do you like him?!" Blue demands, his face now clearly upset, his grip on your shoulder decently tight yet his hand was clearly trembling
"Huh? What're you on about, Blue?" you question, half of your face squinting in a quizzical manner
"Do you like, Red?" Blue asks, taking in a deep breath, preparing himself for your answer
"I mean he's attractive, sure-" shit... Blue's face had already lost all emotion, those words like a knife stabbing into him
"-but I'd never date him!"
New light had sparked in Blue's eyes, a smile just barely visible on his soft looking lips
"Are you joking? I love him and all but that man gets out like.. 3 words an hour! I need a talker haha~" You chuckle, feeling more at ease when Blue's grip on your shoulder softens and his face sports that classic smirk he always has on around you
"Heh.. Yeah... you need someone to yap with" Blue jokes, his heart rate slowly lowering as he calms down, knowing that he still has you - both emotionally and physically, his body ever so close to yours
"Why though? All the dramatics are usual for you but... were you jealoussss?~~" You tease your handsome friend, a smirk on your lips as you tilt your head in a way that's so fuckin cute to Blue
"F-Fuck off! And what if I was?!" Blue shouts, his arms darting away from trapping you and crossing against his chest - his face flushing in a cute way
"I dunno... Maybe I'd like that" You carry on, pushing a finger against the taller man's muscular chest and dragging it across his warm skin, your eyes looking up into Blue's as you do this
And my god did that make the usually arrogant and cool man malfunction
The two of you spent a good half hour in that changing shack, flirting back and forth, you doing your best to stroke and sooth Blue's fragile ego before having to go back and see Red for the rest of your trip
And for that sole half hour, Blue had felt happier than ever - more happy than when he was briefly crowned as champion
Because in that moment, he didn't have you there; but now he does
#gay#male reader#x male reader#fanfic#fluff#cute gay#x gn reader#x gn y/n#pokemon x male reader#pokemon self insert#blue pokemon#blue x male reader#blue oak#rival blue#pokemon x reader#pokemon x gn reader#x m!reader#x gn!reader#pokemon x gn!reader#x male reader fluff#male reader fluff#enby reader
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watching yellowjackets is a complicated and fascinating experience to me because the bones of something sooooooo good and cool and interesting are there, and truly I think the problem with the show is that the writers weren't quite skilled enough to execute their vision in a way that fully works and is thematically coherent. and that's not even a huge black mark against them because I think it would, in fact, take quite a bit of skill to successfully execute the premise of yellowjackets.
I think big-picture the main problems are: 1) there hasn't been enough thought to what they want to say about, idk, the experience of adolescence, or the socialization of women, or relationships between women, or how aggression manifests in those relationships, or any one of a number of topics that could have really grounded the show by connecting the wild and fantastical things that happen to people's real-life lived experiences. For example, I think Misty is a huge missed opportunity because there could have been a real "USS Callister" type plot with her where it's clear that she's socially shunned and it's also clear that she treats people horribly and selfishly, but it's not clear which came first. do they shun her because of how she behaves or does she behave this way because she's shunned? I would have loved to see an exploration of the really complicated ways in which kids who are socially ostracized can end up developing some really harmful personality traits which further ostracize them, and how this developed into her role as a nurse which gives her control over vulnerable people. instead they went more in the direction of "misty is fucking crazy isn't she" which is very fun for sure but feels somewhat shallow without that exploration. I think there's quite a few cases where a potentially nuanced or interesting plot or character development is jettisoned in favour of something that's "more fun"
2) they're bad at giving their characters, ESPECIALLY their secondary characters, any depth. most grating example to me is Laura Lee who is just the Girl Who Is Christian and has no personality beyond that. but she's just the most extreme version of a problem which I think plagues all the characters except possibly Shauna. every other character feels so much like a Type it's hard to care about them as people rather than as agents of a story. Jackie is Insecure Pretty Popular Girl In a Codependent Friendship, Natalie is the Druggie Burnout From A Bad Home, Misty is the Bullied Kid Who Turns Out to Be a Bad Apple, Taissa is the Bullheaded Strong Confident Independent Leader Who is Also Kind of Shitty and Doesn't Listen. I'm not sure why Shauna is the exception to the Types, but I think a lot of what the story does with adult Shauna (especially re: deceased Jackie representing everything Shauna wants to be and is not) is some of its best and most interesting stuff, and 80% of why I'm still watching, and I wish they could've brought some of that to at least the other main characters.
3) the lack of subtext. the amount of dialogue where I cringe because it's someone bluntly stating something which I think would have felt more convincing and would have hit harder if it was instead communicated through subtext. the worst example of this imo is when Jeff and Shauna visit Jackie's parents for the birthday lunch, but it's everywhere.
so watching it is continually frustrating in a way mediocre shows usually aren't because it could have been good!!! it could have been so good!!!! and in a weird way that circles back to part of the appeal for me because I'm so enthralled with the premise that I'm constantly thinking about what I would have done with it as a writer, which is a fun exercise. I'm not quite finished season 1 yet but I am going to keep watching for sure if only for that and that alone
#yellowjackets#long post#tumblr is my diary etc I needed to get my thoughts out#I literally have a whole list of 'plots I wish yellowjackets did that I think would have been cool'#mostly to use as inspiration for my own writing
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I am not sure I understand your tags about Louis galking about F specifically in that latest int.what makes sense to you?that he mentions F?why would that male sense to you even if that is his kid,like donyou know any musician who talks about their kid as much asL does?
I don't follow any other musicians' promos, and I very much doubt any of the other people who are always repeating to each other this as some kind of evidence of something do either, but even if you do and Louis’ is wildly different, so what? What does that have to do with anything? Are you trying to use that to convince me Freddie isn't Louis' kid or something? I feel like this is the equivalent of people telling me that I should believe Louis is gay because he once wore something that had some numbers on it that added up to an anagram that corresponded to the page Oscar Wilde was on in some obscure children’s book, like... why. That stuff is utterly beside the point, is not remotely necessary, and just makes us all sound ridiculous.
And even aside from that, sometimes I think this fandom’s obsession with trying to convince other people of things is its worst quality. Do you actually think it helps Louis to have more people trying to talk everyone on earth into believing he’s gay and is lying, essentially trying to out him every day on the internet to anyone who will listen? Who really cares what I think about Freddie’s parentage, that you have come here to try to show me the error of my ways? Maybe once upon a time, when Louis was locked in a struggle with modest, fans convincing other people of some things was useful to him, but 1) those days are long behind us and he is making his own moves now and I think if we want to support him, we follow his lead: show our support to HIM but SHUT THE FUCK UP to everyone else and let him build the image he wants to, and 2) that NEVER helped in the case of the Freddie mess and is probably the reason things are where they are today, that Louis has clearly made the call that it isn’t possible to end it and he will just be in this kid’s life. It might have been possible to end it at like four different times in the past six years but then it wasn’t, very possibly because people could not just SHUT THE FUCK UP and instead were all up in the media and trying to convince people loudly on twitter that the situation was faked and making it totally impossible! So I won’t be trying to convince anyone why they should believe this that or the other, and this isn’t a discussion that I am interested in continuing- welcome to tumblr, twitter refugees, but consider this your one freebie explainer of why a lot of people won’t talk about this before I go back to doing just that. Meanwhile I will continue to take Louis’ lead and do the things he has responded positively to (rather than those he is actively out there trying to discourage), I will show him my rainbow and smile back at him when he points and beams and I will tell him why he means a lot to me as a queer person if I have the opportunity, but I will also listen when he says, this is what we are doing now. And I will SHUT THE FUCK UP IN PUBLIC about his fucking closet (just like everyone should have done for Kit Conner, if you want an example of why coming after people to do what you want or think is best for them is not cool.)
ANYWAY if you didn’t understand what I was saying, maybe try reading it again without being all activated and defensive like omg does this person think he’s a FATHER I have to CHANGE THEIR MIND, and maybe it won’t be confusing. If you let go of the idea that he is being held captive and forced to mention Freddie, and just watch Louis occasionally mentioning Freddie as a pretty chill way to maintain his closet without having to actually say he’s straight, the way he does it in that interview does make sense to me, yes. He hits a spot where he doesn’t have a good public consumption answer, and then realizes he can get a two-fer out of it by making the answer Freddie! He is saved having to come up with a person out of his actual private personal life- and note that it isn’t just Harry that is erased from his public narrative, it’s EVERYONE except Official Public Friend Oli (and Freddie). Like, we know he texts the twins like practically daily for example, and that he shares music with them early, but he never never mentions them in press. He never mentions ANYONE who isn’t part of the Louis Tomlinson(tm) story and even some of the people who are! So he needed an answer besides Oli and was cornered by not being able to use that one. Then he’s like oh right! I can say Freddie and not only does that solve that problem, it takes care of establishing that I’m straight for another couple weeks, look at me I’m a multitasking king! It’s not that fucking deep, and it’s not that fucking DIRE, it’s just business babes, and more importantly, it’s HIS business to decide how to handle, not mine.
#anonsense#blah blah blah#I have to admit that I think of tumblr as sort of borderline public lol#it technically is#but it's nothing like twitter#or I wouldn't be starting all this#but here well#things stay in their intended orbit mostly#and tabloids aren't trolling fan posts for stories as they very much do on twitter#it's different#but I'm still not interested in going on and on about this#I know speaking up about it at all is like argumentative anon bait and it's just boring tbh
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Tatami Galaxy (novel)
finished 2/28/23
yes i am late on this one. okay. if it is not obvious i'm already a really big fan of this series so this is going to be fully biased. sorry! i got this book as a gift; i was originally gonna wait for the paperback version to be released because honestly i typically like paperbacks better than hardcovers... they're cheaper and easier to hold and i like the way that they age and show the love you poured into them over the years (my h2g2 paperback omnibus that i carried around for like 2 years in my backpack and is held together with 3 different kinds of tape and a dream being the prime example of this) but what was i gonna do. say no? it's the tatami fuckin galaxy, baby. what the hell. it's wild to me that i've actually read this now.
first off i just wanna say how cool it was getting to read the translator's note at the end of the book and hearing how passionate they were about this author's work in particular and how they got into translating with the goal of being able to translate his work. it's fun knowing that something was made by people who actually care a lot about it. i think that shows throughout.
for those who don't know what the fuck the tatami galaxy is even about: cringefail pathetic guy college student realizes that he's pissed away the last two years of his life and wishes that he could redo it all over again to stop himself from getting wrapped up in a bunch of bullshit and we (the audience) get to see him fulfill that wish through time loop shenanigans that he (the main character) is only somewhat aware of but actually every choice he makes that could have possibly had him do something different leads him back to the same place he was before: depressed alone in his shitty little 4.5 tatami mat room. important side characters include ozu (best friend/worst enemy, connected by the black string of fate) and akashi (love interest kinda/ruthlessly autistic, girl of all time) among other recurring characters who i'm not going to talk about because time constraints and i think they're better experienced naturally so, there you go. if you're curious as to what the fuck i've been talking about you have a reason to get into it.
one of the things i really loved being able to read the novel after seeing the anime adaptation is being able to contrast the ways that they were able to bring in the time loop aspect which... really is not all that present for as much as i talk about it; it's core to the series but it's not really a mystery that needs to be uncovered, it's just the vehicle for which we can explore the main character's wish fulfillment fantasy and come to realize that actually, all the problems are with him and his pathetic little life, the spineless little worm. however i do love a good time loop and will continue to sell it as such. the repetition of passages in the book, the fact that the main character and ozu have very similar conversations in different places, the deja vu, the way each section ends the same, it all builds a really solid but not ridiculously over the top loop. like i said, it's just a vehicle. in the first 3 parts of the book at least.
as the novel is written in first person we're really able to dive into that unreliable narration more than we were in the anime which, while being narrated by the mc, really has to be third person and therefore gives a little more credence to the reality of what's being shown. the anime gets really out there with its visual interpretations and combined with the mc's narration like, it's obvious that everything you see is biased from his perspective, but... to pull an example out of my ass (and this is not a direct quote because i can't be bothered, don't come for me) there's one point where he's trying to describe himself and he's going off like: picture a guy in your head. a nice looking, smart guy, with a beautiful black haired woman by his side. he's going off about his studies. he seems like the kind of guy who has friends and is natural in social situations. now, that guy's not me, but please picture me like that.
you get what i mean? he's that kinda guy. i love a good kinda cringey main character but i get that that kind of main character isn't for everyone. however it is for me. it's fun watching him fail through life and kind of accidentally learn things along the way and then to have the big culmination of the book (the 4th part, where the aforementioned vehicle crashes and) where he ends up stuck in a literal loop with no way out of his apartment but through all the different tatami rooms that belong to the different versions of himself that he could have been and realizing that whatever path he takes he'll still end up the same but that there are small joys to be felt in life still, that he has the connections he's made in all of these worlds and realizes fuck, i've been dreaming about this rose colored campus life for far too long and i didn't even realize what i had.
and the symbolism with akashi being afraid of moths?? it's just too good. had to throw that in there because every time i think about it i get all hehehe it itches my brain in the right way. i think she got a bit more fleshed out in the anime but i do still love what there was for her in the book.
i love the tatami galaxy! really fun time for me, felt like coming home. genuinely might try and pick up another by the same author. apparently he has a thing for these sopping little wet idiot protagonists and i just love reading about them.
do i recommend it? ^ read it if the above applies to you too lol
p.s. kamen rider V3 is mentioned! THAT'S MY FRIEND KAZAMI SHIRO HIIIIII KAZAMIIIII
#official bugtransport 2023 media recap#tatami galaxy crash course from a guy who didn't even go to college#this is MY rose colored campus life okay??
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{ VERSE DROP }
Warning: The paragraphs below contain GRAPHIC descriptions of medical abuse, physical & psychological trauma, emotional manipulation, torture, gaslighting, the intentional misuse of therapeutic practices, exploitation of phobias & mental illness, as well as mentions of mind control, self mutilation & attempted suicide, dissociation, non-consensual drugging, non-consensual surgical practices, substance abuse, unsafe sexual practices, & death including that of children! If you think these topics might be triggering to you but you’re curious about this verse & want a summarized version, please let me know & I’ll be happy to give you a quick rundown!
❝ Approximately a year &a half after the desertion of one of its Executives, the Boss of Yokohama’s Port Mafia, Mori Ougai, vanished from the public eye, & rumours begin to run WILD as the organization seemingly changes its entire M.O. overnight. Crime rates began dropping dramatically from outside sources as the Port Mafia puts a stranglehold on the criminal element of the city, & their enemies wiped out without a trace, traitors executed on sight, & more. Talk of a new leader begins to make its way through the shady networks of the city but there is no one to confirm the validity of the belief, & three years later, everything once known about the Port Mafia has CHANGED.❞
BACKGROUND
Following his abandonment of the Port Mafia & leaving the life he’d known for the past five years behind, Dazai unwittingly left his partner, Nakahara Chuuya, behind to face the consequences on his own.
At barely 18 years old, Chuuya found himself an Executive of the Port Mafia, & one of its most feared members due to being one half of the devastating duo known as Double Black. As partners, Dazai & Chuuya had never come upon an enemy that was not defeated by them in the end. He was the powerhouse, & the younger man was the planner. His secondary Ability, CORRUPTION, had taken down entire buildings in a matter of moments, & Dazai was the only one that could stop this power for them to continue their work another day.
Until he left without a word to anyone.
Chuuya was abandoned with nothing more than a profound sense of LOSS, & a blown up car to show for their four years of partnership, & no sign of Dazai no matter how hard he searched. The worst conclusion was inevitably reached—after months of being unable to find a single trace of him, of searching every shelter, morgue, river, under-bridge & bar in the city & areas surrounding it, many came to the conclusion that Dazai had finally succeeded in the one thing he’d wanted all along. Finally, he had to accept that alive or dead, the other teen was not coming back.
The boy took it WORSE than anyone could have possibly predicted. Suddenly under scrutiny, everything from his loyalty to the organization to his competency as an Executive without the use of CORRUPTION at his fingertips comes under question. He pushes himself harder than ever to prove himself at the cost of his health & sanity, but it’s not good enough to outweigh all the eyes suddenly on him, waiting like vultures for him to fuck up. Chuuya found himself dealing with issues he had never previously experienced as the anxiety he’d had in his early teens suddenly returned with a vengeance. Long-buried fears he thought he had gotten over suddenly became near debilitating — solitude / isolation, suffocation, physical confinement, darkness, & anything to do with medicine — he began to suffer from reoccurring nightmares & panic attacks, worse, he became distracted & sloppy in his work, doubting his Boss’s orders due to his own fears & causing problems. At first, he seemed understanding about the ordeal, lessening his work load & encouraging him to work through it.
When no progress was made despite Chuuya’s best efforts, he quickly began... showing a side to the redhead he could not RECALL seeing before.
Believing environmental phobias to be the most detrimental to Chuuya’s effectiveness in the organization, Mori-san attempted to aggressively tackle that issue first, in a way he assured Chuuya would completely DESENSITIZE him to his anxiety surrounding these matters. Unfortunately for Chuuya, he went about it in the worst way possible.
The first time Chuuya was escorted to the basement floor of Mori’s infirmary, he nearly COLLAPSED with the suddenly intensity of his fear, & tried to flee the room only to find himself quickly restrained by two of his personal bodyguards. The sight of the sensory deprivation tank ripped down any sense of composure he had. He knew what they were of course, but all he could see before him was the POD that Professor N & the other scientists had forced him into day after day, the one the clone of himself had been released from only to die in his arms when he was sixteen. He struggled & fought, begged the Boss not to, anything but that, please. He wouldn’t listen, & informed Chuuya that he needed to stay awake for the duration of the session, & every time he passed out & forced them to pull him out for his own safety, the timer would RESET & he would have to start over again. They began at 8 hour intervals.
Mori assured him with the kindest smile that it would HELP him, then ordered him to take off his clothes & get in. When Chuuya refused, the armed guards stripped him down to his underwear against his will & shoved him into the tank, locking him inside.
He screamed. He cried.
The tanks, ironically meant to be used to RELIEVE anxiety, are soundproof & dark, no one who would be willing to help him could hear his distress. The water started off pleasantly warm, but due to the amount of time he spent in it & his own fear, it quickly felt FRIGID against his clammy skin. Chuuya found himself clawing to escape it after less than an hour, hyperventilating. He was so overcome with fear it didn’t even OCCUR to him that he could use his ability to destroy the tank & escape. He just curled up in the water & sobbed.
He made it two hours before passing out, & was pulled from the tank & woken up. Then he was forced back into it. This time he made it four hours before the anxiety & isolation got the better of him. In total it took three attempts before he made the full eight hours, having spent fourteen hours in the tank total before the session was considered over. Chuuya, heavily dissociating due to the sheer STRESS of the ordeal, put his clothes back on his soaking wet, shaking body in a haze & found himself wandering. He wasn’t sure where he went, but somehow ended up in the basement of the Port Mafia. He locked himself in it before everything came crashing down & he broke down into a sobbing, hysterical panic attack. His estranged brother, Verlaine, was shocked at the condition he was in & hesitantly went to the boy’s aid. He tried to ask him what had happened, but Chuuya refused to answer. After accepting a brief moment of awkward comforting, he told Verlaine to forget he had SEEN him down there or they would both be punished, then he ran out.
Unfortunately, Mori did not consider the 'therapy’ a success, & began calling upon Chuuya frequently for more sessions. Each time Chuuya went, he found his physical response to any proximity to the tank was more SEVERE than last time. In addition, he began to despise the sound of SILENCE, & could no longer bring himself to take baths without spiralling into a nauseous, gasping wreck. He did his best to get through the ordeal, but more often than not he would be spending inhumane amounts of time in the float tank. Sometimes it took as little as eight hours for him to successfully complete the session, sometimes he was in there as long as SIXTEEN. Once, it was almost two full days because he couldn’t stay awake long enough even after being given a drug that made his limbs feel like they were made of LEAD.
Mori tried alternating methods over the course of three months. When Chuuya was badly inured on a mission & reacted poorly to the Port Mafia’s medical team attempting to patch him up, the Boss chose to take over the matter himself. Chuuya was extremely reluctant to be anywhere alone with Mori, but he couldn’t exactly refuse a direct order.
The former doctor gave Chuuya a moderate dose of ketamine, a dissociative anesthetic, & had him lay down on the operating table. The eighteen-year-old quickly realized what he was really up to, & felt a level of fear he’d never experienced before when he realized there was a mirror on the ceiling, & that he couldn’t MOVE. Nor was he becoming sedated. Instead, he laid there paralyzed as Mori cut him open to remove the bullets & suture his internal injuries. He couldn’t even move a single fingertip. He couldn’t feel the pain, of course, since he was under anesthesia, but he saw every cut, slice, & stitch without any ability to even shut his eyes or speak or twitch. Mori was conversational the entire time, kindly explaining each thing he was doing from sterilizing the wounds to the names of each area he was sewing back together. He seemed certain Chuuya would not be afraid if he knew every last DETAIL of what was being done, since the unknown is always more frightening than having knowledge.
Chuuya was absolutely petrified.
The therapies did not improve any of the gravity manipulator’s fears. Rather, recreating the situations that traumatized Chuuya in the first place only succeeded in turning his already severe anxiety into an even more severe case of PTSD. He became paranoid & jumpy, lashing out in anger often, struggling to remember his daily schedule or even to eat which caused a relapse in his previously disordered eating for a while. Faced with no other options, Mori-san orders Chuuya to take a mandatory medical leave to deal with these ‘issues’ or resign from his position as Executive. Chuuya takes the former, reluctant & relieved all at once.
While trying to find a SOLUTION to his humiliating problem, Chuuya runs into a hauntingly familiar face in the park one day. Kashimura Fukumi, his biological mother. She recognizes his face immediately & is overjoyed that he is alive despite his desperate attempt to dispel her notion that he is her son. She insists on exchanging phone numbers, telling him she has waited over a decade hoping he would just come HOME. Overwhelmed with emotion, the 18-year-old agrees. After several phone calls, they arrange a face to face meeting where she tells him the whole story, one that even the Port Mafia had not been able to UNCOVER. Where he was born, who he was, what his siblings he didn’t know existed were like. How he became ILL at a very young age & his father, a doctor, was coerced into signing documents that essential gave away their rights as his parents in exchange for an experimental medical procedure that was meant to save his life. Instead, they were forced to abandon him after being told he died as he was subjected to numerous cruel & inhumane experiments as part of Project Arahabaki.
A bit hesitant at first, Chuuya slowly gets to know each member of the family. His father, his older brother & sister, his TWIN sister & two younger siblings. After initial anger before hearing his side of things, they all welcome him with open arms. For the first time in years, he feels like he has a HOME. Of course, nothing perfect lasts forever, does it? Around his nineteenth birthday, Mori noticed a visible improvement in Chuuya’s mood & work performance. Delighted, he suggested that perhaps the time to himself was beneficial, & that they should continue his therapy even. It felt like a bucket of ice water being dumped over him. He tried to refuse, to tell Mori he couldn’t he had a previously agreed to engagement to attend. When inquired about it, Chuuya had no choice but to confess that he’d begun having a relationship to his biological family.
Mori seemed... almost unperturbed by the knowledge, but it didn’t change his choice. He forced Chuuya to come to the basement & get in the tank. Almost immediately, he suffered another breakdown, this time to the point of getting physically sick. Rather than putting him back in the tank when he had to be pulled from it after six hours, Mori simply left him locked in the room until morning. As soon as he was let out & managed to put himself together, he ran to his family’s home & found them worried sick that he’d missed his 19th birthday party. He tried to explain but simply ended up collapsing in front of them in an incomprehensible wreck. When they finally manage to calm him enough for him to choke out half of an explanation, the Kashimuras were horrified. His family immediately began trying to convince him to leave the Mafia, that it was HURTING him, destroying his body & his mental health. Chuuya found himself genuinely touched by their honest concern. But he couldn’t leave, he’d made a promise, had sworn his loyalty to the Port Mafia. They reluctantly leave the subject alone.
Roughly four months later, everything goes to HELL.
It starts with a callous remark from his eldest sister at the celebratory dinner they were having in honour of the one year anniversary of Chuuya ‘coming home’, aka rejoining their family, & an offhanded comment from his eldest sister about how he could memorize dozens of different martial arts as a teen but at 7 years old couldn’t remember his own family’s phone number to let them know he was ALIVE sent him spiralling. An uncontrollable anger washes over Chuuya along with a feeling of being smothered with darkness, & he loses himself. Upon waking up he found the house trashed, his parents DEAD as well as his siblings, crushed or torn apart by gravity. The only one left alive is his twin, Chiaki, & he cradles her & begs her to hold on, help is coming soon. She tells him it’s okay, she knows its not his FAULT, & chokes to death on her own blood as he cries over the bodies of the siblings he’d just begun to love, & the parents he hadn’t realized he’d NEEDED all along.
Confused by her final words & dazed he looks down to see himself covered in blood, the blood of his FAMILY.
Horrified & going into shock, Chuuya manages to make it out of the house before getting sick behind a bush & calling for help. He can’t remember the next week, or the funeral. He is told he had to be heavily sedated at one point after attempting to tear his own ability out of himself during an extreme nervous breakdown, using a scalpel, carving the word ‘Monster’ into his stomach before attempting to put a bullet in his head—Kouyou & Verlaine were able to stop him. He couldn’t plan the funeral on his own, so the Boss helped him arrange everything. Despite Chuuya’s fear, he found himself leaning on the man for reassurance, completely devastated. Mori confesses to him that he is also an orphan, & he knows it’s difficult. But he would be honoured if Chuuya would consider allowing him to adopt him, despite being an adult now. At least then he would know he had family, even if it was a rather unconventional one.
Chuuya nearly accepted, but a text from Ane-san caused him to postpone sigining it.
The very next, crystal clear memory he has is a month later. Chuuya, still actively suicidal & drunk more often than not when he isn’t dissociating just to get through his work without falling apart over his family, finds himself being pulled aside by VERLAINE to tell him something. That Mori-san went to visit him just over a month ago, to ask him questions about the hat Chuuya wore that blocked his mind from being tampered with. Supposedly, he wanted to reconfigure its settings to see if it were possible to BLOCK the reception of negative emotions, thereby eliminating Chuuya’s troubling phobias entirely. Verlaine requests to see the hat, & when Chuuya hands it over, he confirms that there was something connected to it that wasn’t before. A device receiving signals from something coming from INSIDE of Chuuya’s body.
He thinks of the surgery Mori performed on him, & how easy it would have been to implant something in him without his knowledge due to how terrified he was at the time. Mori had tampered with the hat, the one Chuuya was wearing on the day his family died.
Everything went RED after that.
The next thing he knew, he was barging into Mori’s office, screaming accusations at him - of knowing he’d been considering LEAVING & using him to eliminate the only connection Chuuya had left to happiness outside of the Mafia, he shouted so loud his throat was RAW, unable to listen to reason as he picked up the antique desk & threw it at him, missing by an inch as it left a massive CRACK in the bulletproof floor-to-ceiling glass that made up one of the office walls. He vaguely recalls the feelings of anger, of BETRAYAL & the sheer grief of losing the only family he had AGAIN. Mori tried to defend his actions, tried to reach out to the boy & talk him down.
Chuuya screamed at him, “ DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME! ” & then the unthinkable happened.
Whether the man was pushed, fell, or jumped to escape the wrath of the unraveling, chaos-god-imbued teenager, NOBODY was there to witness. But the confrontation ended when Mori fell numerous stories to his death through the now broken window. Verlaine, Kouyou & several others on the upper floor who had heard the arguing came running & found Chuuya curled up on the floor, wide-eyed & too shocked to acknowledge any of their presence. He just kept whispering, “What did I do?” over & over again. After that, the teenager shut down completely, & his brother Verlaine & sister Kouyou jumped in to save him from his own actions. The death of Mori was swiftly covered up from anyone below a certain rank, & they forced him to meet with an ability user who claimed she could help REMOVE what the scientists had done to him once & for all, as well as ‘fry’ the software implanted in him, as she had the ability to reach into a person’s mind & create, remove & alter barriers & layers of a person’s psyche. It was risky, but he didn’t care, he told her to take everything OUT, even if it killed him.
She’d never done it on someone quite like Chuuya, a real human implanted with a kami turned into an artificial ability, but she managed it. Not only that, but ARAHABAKI itself was removed from Chuuya, without the seals keeping it tethered to Chuuya’s body, it gained its own separate form, though their souls were still intertwined. With the risk of the Mafia going under if Mori’s death was discovered, Chuuya made possibly the most difficult decision of his life & chose to step into the role when it was revealed that the Boss had named Chuuya his successor, officially, almost two years ago. Arahabaki helped, with his ability to shapeshift among other things, he took the form of Mori for the next few months whenever it was needed to keep the Mafia in line.
That was not enough to convince everyone who was aware of his death that Chuuya could handle the responsibility in his current mental state, of course, but what he did next quickly changed their minds.
He overhauled the Port Mafia in a matter of days, revising vintage & out of date policies, dismissing previous rules many of them regarded as frivolous or unnecessary. The age to join the Port Mafia was raised to 16 unless the person was otherwise emancipated with nowhere else to go, a crackdown on non-sanctioned crime against civilians was put in place, & he urged pragmatism over flair at every turn. Traitors were given the chance to redeem themselves to the organization or be swiftly executed depending on their crimes, & every member was required to submit to a MARK to show their allegiance. A tattoo, scar, brand or permanent modification of some sort that could not be easily covered up, hidden or cut off, as an additional incentive to prevent BETRAYAL by erasing the chance at hiding from their former allegiance.
After three years, Chuuya was neither the blood thirsty maniac the Boss from two generations prior had been, nor the sadistic theatrical chessmaster Mori had proven to be, but he was GOOD at what he did, & his genuine loyalty & concern for his subordinates quickly proved invaluable to them. He kept Verlaine & Kouyou as his main executives, promoting Hirotsu to the role as well alongside two others, & making Arahabaki - his darker half, his sometimes lover - his personal body guard & assistant to cover the fact that he still couldn’t use Corruption on his own completely - Arahabaki had to be there. Aside from the god, the only ones outside his brother & sister permitted to see him when he truly is at his most self destructive are the other Executives. To the outside world, something has changed.
In record time the violent conflicts between the Port Mafia & rival groups virtually disappeared due to their brutal efficiency. The Port Mafia leader no longer shows his face to non-members, & people understand better than to question something that has ultimately improved the quality of life in Yokohama, no matter how brutal. The next three years pass by in a blur of alcohol, violence, & people whose names & faces he can barely remember stumbling in & out of his bed as he alternates between a desperate need to control everything so nothing can be used to control him again, & wanting to drink, smoke & fuck any emotions out of his body so he doesn’t have to think of how much he’s LOST in the last eight years.
Chuuya, resigned to his fate as the leader of an organization he never wished to be in CHARGE of in the first place, & using whatever he has at his disposal to COPE with it all, can sense the shift in the air as the third year anniversary of Mori’s death approaches. Something bad is coming, something EVIL, & everyone had better be prepared to face it, before it crushes them. He isn’t sure he is ready, but one thing is certain...
He’ll crush anyone that tries to harm his people.
~ General Information~
Name: Chuuya Nakahara { English }, Nakahara Chūya { Rōmaji }, 中原中也 { Kanji }, Kashimura Chūya { Birth Name }
Gender: Cis Male { Gender-Nonconforming }
Age: 22 { Current }, 18-21 { Post ‘Dark Era’ }
D.o.B: April 29th, 20XX
Nationality: Japanese
Residence: Yokohama City
Occupation: Port Mafia Boss
Relationship Status: Fuck Off Single
Orientation: Demiromantic Homosexual
~ Appearance / Style ~
Eyes: Gray-Blue. They tend to shift to particularly bright shades of Azure when he’s feeling especially emotional, sometimes darkening to the colour of storm clouds when angered. When he’s happy, they’re closer to a green-blue or turquoise colour, like the colour of the sea.
Hair: Ginger. Short jaw-length semi curly red-orange hair that asymmetrically reaches past his shoulder on one side. Often ties it back in a ponytail or bun in his off hours. No longer wears any sort of head accessories outside pins/ribbons/ties
Skin: Fair
Height: 5′4″
Weight: 120lbs
Clothing: Lots of dark colours, earthy shades & jewel tones. Wears expensive, custom made or designer suits & accessories, shops at mostly high end luxury stores in the city or buys European brands online that he has tailored to fit him. Occasionally wears makeup such as eyeliner, concealer etc.
Piercings: Double earlobe piercings on both sides & a stud on his tongue.
Tattoos: Barcode branded on the back of his neck { burned off with a hair straightener }; Corruption markings { temporary / situational }, the Port Mafia insignia is branded onto his right collar bone; a small blackbird with a few kanji beneath it “闇の中、忠実”, the direct translation means “Faithful in the Dark” but actually is the Port Mafia’s motto “In Darkness, Fidelity.”
Scars: Numerous from bullet wounds, knives, explosions, surgeries & physical fights, some to the point of layering, all over his body. Several faded scars from N’s torture when he was 16; getting shot, skewered by metal & electrocuted + deep injection wounds on his back. Also, beneath his gloves there are deep, tough scars marring his wrists from the spiked barbed wire used to restrain him. He also has the mark on his right wrist from when he was stabbed with a pencil. He has a self-inflicted scar on his lower right abdomen, just above his hip & pelvis, that says Monster. Following his failed suicide attempt he carved this into his own body in his grief after he killed his family.
~ Personality ~
Zodiac: Taurus
Positive Traits: Loyal, intelligent, strong-willed, quick witted, determined, flexible, kind, selfless, brave, empathetic, straightforward.
Negative Traits: Brash, quick tempered, somewhat reckless, defensive, snappy, vengeful, unforgiving, ruthless, possessive.
~ Health ~
Physical Disabilities & Conditions: Underweight { Mild }.
Mental Illnesses: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Depression, Substance Use Disorder { Alcohol }, Anxiety. Classified as anxiety disorders in their own right, he also suffers from several moderate to severe phobias: Claustraophobia { closed in / tight spaces }, Agoraphobia { being caught in a situation he can’t easily escape from as well as unfamiliar or very open environments }, Thalassophobia { being submerged in water }, Monophobia { fear of isolation & solitude }, Iatrophobia / Tomophobia { doctors, medical environments, exams, tests, etc. Could be more easily defined as ‘severe Medical PTSD’ }, Eating Disorder NOS { Reoccurring }.
~ Skills ~
Languages: Fluent in Japanese, Mandarin Chinese, Cantonese, English, Russian, Swedish, Korean, Italian, German, French, & Spanish. Semi fluent in Latin & classical Greek.
Physical Abilities: Expert in hand to hand combat & weapons proficiency, especially melee weapons. Chuuya became the Port Mafia’s top combatant by the age of 17, & mastered over a dozen different martial arts & forms of combat, including Akido, Capoeira, Judo, Jujutsu, Savate, Krav Maga, Karate, Defendu, Dim Mak & Shaolin Kung Fu.
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So as anyone who lets my blog come across their Tumblr feeds every day knows, last month I finished all the John Oliver-era episode of The Bugle and then had a small breakdown about how the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard would dare to have an ending, possibly mixed in with some major projection of my own issues with objecting to anything ever ending. It was whole thing. It was also the end of my list of all the British comedy that I’d planned to cover since the beginning of COVIDtimes, leaving me with no set media schedule for the first time in over two years, and I like schedules.
After spending a bit of time watching different things on no particular schedule, I’ve found a new routine that I think I like. In the last few weeks, I’ve re-watched the first three seasons of Last Week Tonight, which takes me to February 2017. And I’ve listened to the first 15 episodes of the re-launched Bugle, which takes me to the same week in February 2017. I think I’ll alternate episodes from here, so I can follow where John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman went on their separate paths after the tragic end of the original Bugle run, so I can continue to enjoy the comedy from both of them, and continue to soften the blow of that truly painful ending. Like how in 1993, anyone who was upset about Cheers ending could console themselves with Fraiser, knowing it’ll never be the same but at least they got to see that the characters lived on.
One thing I’ve found interesting with the late 2016/early 2017 Bugle episodes is that it really shows how much freaking out about Trump’s election was not just an American phenomenon. Sometimes I think of how considering 2016 to be the worst thing in the world, specifically due to Trump and Brexit, is a very Western-centric view. Which is definitely is, it discounts the fact that many parts of the world have dealt with much worse shit than that for much longer than that. It seemed like the end of the world because it happened in countries that had grown accustomed to stability, but lots of countries have never had that luxury. Though also, I think 2016 was an especially bad year even in some of the rest of the world, with the Syrian crisis escalating into a global refugee crisis that had wide-ranging effects.
But one thing that annoys me in general is, even within the Western world, how much focus is on American politics, and to a much lesser but still disproportionate extent, whatever wild shit is going on in British politics. As a Canadian, I find it annoying that so many people I know know way more about American news than our own news. And sometimes I wonder if I’m being part of that problem by looking back at 2016 as a particularly bad year from my personal perspective, given that it was actually an all right year for Canada. It was after Justin Trudeau’s election but before the worst of his scandals got going, we had reasonable people in most cabinet positions, it was basically fine. Obviously I believe that people should have compassion for those outside their own borders and I felt angry and afraid on behalf of the American and British people who were affected by Trump and Brexit, but really, many places have much worse shit happen all the time and I don’t consider that shit a reason to make the whole year a terrible memory. Am I being incredibly American-centric to see Trump’s election as something that cast a dark cloud on the whole world?
These Bugle episodes I’m hearing suggest that that is not really the case. Andy Zaltzman has complained before about British people being more into American news than their own news, and in many episodes of The Bugle’s original run, John would come in with material based on American politics and Andy would let him recite it and bounce off it a bit but clearly not be that familiar with the issues. Which is fine – Andy had a strong knowledge of British politics and a general knowledge of what was going on in other countries, including America but very much not limited to America. And I think that’s how it should be – people should primarily pay attention to their own country’s news, because in a democracy, the people are the ones who are supposed to hold their own government accountable, and any country works better if its own people know what’s going on. Beyond that, it’s good to know what’s happening internationally, but the information diet should try to prioritize what’s actually most important and not just what’s dramatic or what’s sensational or what’s in America.
Obviously no one does this perfectly – not Andy Zaltzman, not the best most professional respected BBC journalists, and certainly not me. But I at least try, and get annoyed with myself when I fall too far short of that. Which is why it’s making me feel a little better to hear these 2016/2017 Bugle episodes, when even Andy Zaltzman, who’s usually pretty good at taking a larger view of the news, drops it entirely. In 2007-2015, when they discussed American political news, John very much led the discussions and Andy often had to ask for clarification on relatively basic parts of it. I remember at one point he didn’t know whether Newt Gingrich was a Republican or a Democrat, and that was when I realized he definitely never watches John Oliver’s other show (The Daily Show, at the time, not yet Last Week Tonight). But in late 2016/early 2017, Andy does not try to do anything besides dedicate most of every episode to Donald Trump. He does this when he has American guests on, but he even does it with the British guests, when the podcast has no American influence at all.
I’m currently listening to an episode with Anuvab Pal, who lives in India and is the only person to bring a non-Western perspective to The Bugle. And even he is mostly interested in talking about Donald Trump. In this February 2017 episode, he referred to Trump as the only story that anyone in the world is talking about. He and Andy have so far spent the first twenty minutes of this podcast talking about Donald Trump, a British guy and an Indian guy acknowledging that in their separate parts of the world the main news story is what the fuck is happening in America.
So that makes me feel a little better about my own view of those years, and the time that followed, being so deeply coloured by Donald Trump and all the fallout from him. It’s not just me with my North American-centric perspective, everyone thought that was the biggest thing to happen on Earth at that time. If “everyone” means one guy in Britain and one guy in India and also a couple of other people in Britain and a couple of guys in America, which it very much doesn’t, but still.
My efforts to see the news in a way that dispassionately prioritizes my own country, followed by issues around the world in a way that is proportionate to their genuine global importance, has been on my mind recently. Because last week and the week before, I have to admit that every time CBC tried to tell me about mundane shit going on in Canadian politics, I did want to say, “Oh come on. Look, I get my news from you because you deliver the news the way I think it should be delivered, not giving stories extra airtime just for being sensational or dramatic. But seriously, are you really going to talk about our Environment Minister’s proposed industry-specific carbon pricing system when across the pond, they’re playing the Benny Hill theme outside Parliament while the empire that succeeded Rome burns?”
I appreciate knowing that other people who also try hold these principles can fall down rabbit holes of bullshit just like I do. Even John Oliver did a good job of almost completely ignoring Donald Trump in 2015 on Last Week Tonight, and I recently watched him complain in an interview about how he hates that the Trump era forced him into discussing so much meaningless bullshit in the years that followed, when he wanted his show to be about substantial policy issues. And it is, Last Week Tonight covers lots of things that actually matter, but with each passing week of 2016, it also discussed more and more Twitter beef. And it’s been a while since I’ve re-watched Last Week Tonight episodes from 2017 onward, but I’m quite sure that ratio did not improve after Trump actually got elected.
So we all get caught up in shit. This sort of thing makes me genuinely appreciate all the journalists at the CBC and similar professional news organizations all over the world, even if sometimes it’s hard to remember to care. America could elect Kanye West in two years, and the next day, Vassy Kapelos would let me know that that happened but would also make time to tell me what’s going on in the race to be Leader of the Opposition in the provincial government of New Brunswick or whatever. And I respect her for that.
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You've heard of your muse having a bad dad ... but what if your muse IS the bad dad?
I want to think that Cassidy didn't have bad intentions with Denis. My god these translations are not giving Cassidy a lot of credit here. How did Cassidy go from wanting to be the best dad in the world to Denis hating him? Also - was Denis just kind of not that great either? ( well yes)
I have thoughts.
Cassidy left NYC after he figured out that he was a vampire (around the late 1930s). He spent like ... ten years traveling, maybe caused a little chaos along the way, but he wasn't at his worst.
He eventually decided that he did want to learn things about being a vampire, so he went to New Orleans (because vampires, voodoo, witches and ghosts?). Instead of learning vampire things, Cassidy continued to just ... generally fuck around and cause some chaos probably.
Cassidy fell for a woman that he was screwing around with (but also is it unexpected that Cassidy falls in love? no it's actually in character for him to be secretly longing for human connection and love, but I digress). I imagine that Cassidy tells her that he's a vampire, which she is entirely too cool with. He thinks that he's found the perfect woman.
I kind of want to know more shit about Denis' mother. Cassidy's girlfriend? wife? I mean it was the 1940s ... did Cassidy get married??? I honestly ... wait, that was a wild thought that just occurred to me. Also does she only speak French? haaaaa my god. Cassidy, goddamn it.
Then this unnamed woman got pregnant. Was the first thought going through Cassidy's mind of what a vampire baby might be like? The possibilities of what could happen? Cassidy not knowing shit about being a vampire?? Well, as it turns out, vampires just make human babies. But GOD, did he even think about it??
Anyway, good lord this got derailed.
At this point, Cassidy is thinking, "Well, maybe I can actually just be a normal person with a normal family! Being a dad is going to be fine and normal. I got this!" And boy, can Cassidy talk a big fucking talk! And maybe he even believed it.
Only it's not normal whatsoever, because his child (and girl/girlfriend/wife??) are aging and he's not. That really only sinks in after the first maybe ... few years. It really hits him that they will die before him. Cassidy had an existential vampire crisis about this. He leaves.
While Cassidy was going a little wild before this out of pure boredom (I imagine him having been a terrible drunk bare minimum - like not mean or angry, but just fucking chaotic, unpredictable, off the walls), this is the turning point of Cassidy going off the fucking rails. Constantly drunk, discovers more drugs, spends the next at least thirty? years at least in an absolute blur of an existence.
Maybe when he had absolutely nothing he still tried to send them money. And Denis a birthday card. Maybe he couldn't bare to even do these things. Maybe Denis' mother asked Cassidy to stay away from them after he decided to leave.
Clearly Denis knew that Cassidy was a vampire. Maybe to in theory make it easier on Denis, Denis' mother romanticized the idea of being a vampire to make the blow less hard? Like "your dad's off doing vampire shit. He'll be back around." Cassidy definitely went to visit Denis at points in his life. It's clear that Cassidy came around, maybe only by the time that Denis was older, an adult even. Regardless, it seems like when he did come around, he made a horrific impression. But anyway, yeah, Denis clearly knew he was a vampire. And that's like ... an underlying reason why Denis was like "why can't you just turn me?" Because Cassidy just showed up to fucking party and act wild. Seemed like fun.
Also, it might be Cassidy's fault that Denis turns out to be not so great. It could just be the tragedy of having a child, only for them to turn out to be a bad person.
I'm feeling so normal about all of this. Not out of control or utterly defeated and sad.
I'm not really defending Cassidy, but I'm just thinking he had good intentions that ended up badly. Is that just the story of his life?
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Media: Star Trek
Year/my age: 2020/30
What drew me to the media:
Okay! To be far, I was a fan since birth. In the back of our VHS cabinet, an entire wall of the shelf was made up of The Original Series. I think it was 30 or so tapes? Each vhs case was a uniform gray. My dad was a fanatic since childhood. They watched the Next Generation before my memory began. Deep Space Nine played in the background of my life and then Voyager. They separated when Enterprise was running. Star Trek is in my blood.
I watched TOS alone in college the same year I got interested in the Labyrinth. It's goofy. It's shakespearean. The OT3 is potent! I had fun but it didn't leave much of an impression on me besides: 'I like Spock. Kirk is a doofus. I like Bones.' After college that was it. I put Star Trek away.
For the next few years I dabbled with the Next Generation, but it's uhhhh... just not very interesting for me.
So what the fuck was my problem with it? I'm a sci fi fan! Yaknow! This is my heritage! This is my calling! But I was always lowkey pissed at Star Trek, and I continue to be.
And this is something that frustrates me about Star Trek fans, is no one wants to talk about things they don't like about the shows. I mentioned a plot of a novel I was working on to a group of writers and someone (as someone does) was like 'oh yes, like Star Trek!'
I scratched my head and said, pitifully, 'well, you know, I sort of have a lot of issues with Star Trek.'
"What!? But Star Trek is the best!"
But like...is it?
And since it doesn't seem to allow space for critique, it's sort of hard for me to get my feelings out about my hangups with it. I'll try my best.
To really understand why I didn't like the Next Generation is I sort of needed to experience Farscape before I could approach it again.
This is my biggest hangup about it.
I have a hard time understanding a future where everyone has the same motivation for being and existing together in space. Star Trek is very utilitarian. It's carpeted corridors. It's a little sexless (The Original Series got around this but it's also very dated sexiness). It can be so SERIOUS. It's militaristic (yes it's a peace mission to explore the galaxy but the organization of the ship is so uninspired for me). And even when the crew encounters a complex moral dilemma, it always feels like they get on top of it in the best way possible. Everyone is fit in this world. Everyone is healthy in this world. They shape human culture as if we "achieved" perfection somewhere along the past.
And it drives me FUCKING CRAZY.
The world of Star Trek is not a future I want at all!
Sorry I'm such a messy slut, but like it really dilutes the complexity of existence to the most utilitarian and predictable. The Starship Enterprise reminds me of past work environments that do 'culture hiring' for fuck's sake!
In short, the storytelling bothers me. The characters both me. And I wish we fans could have a conversation about why Star Trek *isn't* perfect and why as a the leading sci fi franchise it needs to embrace being more fucked up.
What made me a fan:
Deep Space Nine baby! What I just said above was completely voided on that fucked up space station because it's about a bunch of people that have to learn to live with each other despite having varied life experiences and view points. They aren't going to all get along. That's a good thing. People make mistakes here. Bad ones.
Some of the more batshit characters exist in this series. Garak is fucking wild. Like WTF. Gul Dukat is the WORST. Kai Winn SUCKS. Quark!? IS GREAT. Odo???? I LOVE MY JELLOMAN KIND OF FASCIST???? OR NOT? THE HOTTEST WOMEN EVER ARE IN THIS SHOW AND ONE OF THEM KISSES ANOTHER WOMAN. Kira and Jadzia are like so good. Sisko is fucking great. Miles o Brian is back being traumatized and has some fantastic episodes. Season 2 there is a three person pregnancy. People dying really knocked the legs out of me. Weyon is the fucking cutest dumpster fire evil clone.
DS9 really helped me see Star Trek differently. It's a really good story from start to end, which I feel like the procedural nature of the other series has a tough time grappling.
The problem characters add so much zest to plots too. It's one of the first Star Treks that I actively see trajectories of characters when they aren't on screen.
Like Garak/Bashir example. Bashir would be interested in the giant lizard spy, because he's obsessed with subterfuge. They probably have some weird friends with benefits situation until the Wire. Then it's more serious. But when war starts, they get distant again. Julian is grappling with his identity. He shifts to hanging with Miles a lot more as the war gets hot. He gets drafted into being a spy. They have the weird prison camp 'adventure' yikes. When they finally separate at the end, with Garak finally being able to return to Cardassia but it's fucking wrecked and Julian says goodbye. There is a REAL MATERIAL SADNESS THERE. And that's only one example of show dynamics. I can imagine a lot of his weird mental jumps beyond the plot of the show just in subtext.
I remember showing DS9 to the hubs and being like 'why didn't you tell me this show rocked?' and he was like 'you know I don't think I thought of this show as highly as I do no rewatching it with you. it's really one of the best star trek series.'
YES THANK YOU.
Have I written fanfiction for it? Why or why not?
I have. I wrote a really short one shot about Odo pining for Kira. I liked the Odo/Kira pairing. Heart of Stone really blasted me. I knew that he was going to develop a crush on Kira because someone told me, but that episode is SO SPICY. Like no one expected that jelly dude to want to with Kira, who was like so adored by so many people. AH. I still love it.
Just thinking about it again. I should've written more. I had the ideas. But I was sort of bogged down with the other things I was writing at the time, and writing Star Trek fanfiction is also intimidating. It's a big fandom. There is so much lore that I can't even begin to grapple with.
I also knew that if I started on any of my ideas they would spin out of control. I'm long-winded. Even if I say 'I'll keep this short' working on a project generates more ideas for me.
I really really love DS9. I really love ALL THE CHARACTERS. Where do I even start? I'd be at it forever.
Opinion on the fandom:
I've already mentioned my hang ups with the fans, but I love the fandom. Star Trek fans are widespread. They exist in so many people. This show has touched so many people in so many ways for generations. It will continue to matter to our stories and culture.
But thanks to DS9 reorganizing my atoms or whatever, I can watch other Star Trek shows again (at least for a bit). I think I'm halfway through Voyager. I'll probably finish it some day. I'm excited to one day start Enterprise.
Would I read it again?
Sure! Ya!
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going feral over stede and the bar scene in the finale, send help.
because in some ways, this is a continuation of the party scene in e5; only now, ed’s not here. his pain is theoretical, and stede still thinks they’ll never see each other again.
ed would never know if he let it go, this time. no one would ever know.
it’s tempting. stede’s brokenhearted and feeling utterly alone, and these men are offering him attention alongside a fucked up poison pill masquerading as acceptance.
all he has to do is share a couple stories, so long as they’re the stories that confirm the horrible things these men so desperately need to keep believing, or realize they only thrive and profit off endless cycles of human misery. if that ever happened, they would be forced to make an active choice to keep perpetuating the misery or step away and become part of the solution.
which means: that cannot fucking happen. under no circumstances do they want to be in that very uncomfortable place. they like their lives, they like their clothes, they like their nice houses. they are just doing their best, they tell themselves; they do not go home at night and feel like they’re The Bad Guys.
so they do not want to hear about ed, who is lonely and confused and strong and super hot and very complicated and the most lovely person stede has ever met.
ed would fuck with their emotional economy. if ed exists and he is not subject to their definitions of the world and the reasons they made up and codified into science and law to explain why they have what they have, then hooooooly shit kids. holy shit: what the fuck else are we wrong about???
these are the thoughts they cannot think. world-shaking, identity-sundering thoughts. these thoughts fucking suck.
all they want is blackbeard. they do not want a man in all his beautiful nuance; the ways in which he is angry, the ways in which he is tender or silly or looks like an elvish prince or romance novel cover without the beard. ed, who kissed stede on the beach and was willing to give it all up for him isn’t the story they want.
they want a monster, born of the devil. they want to go gawk at the locals like the poverty tourist shtick from the republic of pirates, but without even having to leave the comfort of the home they stole. they already feel so fucking superior, but they want more.
the hunger that gnaws at them has nothing to do with the food they can afford to take for granted. they will always want more.
and now they want stede to feed them. they want him to show them that he had his wild fun, off with those little urban friends of his— now he’s back where he belongs, intemperate fit of madness over.
he’s still weird, and he’s definitely still gay and they still do not like that at all, no sir, but in this moment they decide: for right now, he’s one of them.
this is how he can do it. this is how stede can win, just this once. now, he can give them someone else to gleefully chew on and bask in the shared glow of keeping somebody else down.
because here’s the catch: stede will no longer be one of them if he defends ed even a little, their pushback says.
so make your choice, stede, these fucking assholes/the narrative says. what’s it going to be?
and because this show is very real and heartbreaking and understands that good and bad is not so much something people are, it’s something people do: stede slips up. the words come out of his well-meaning mouth, and he can’t take them back.
because mary hasn’t yet attempted murder with a skewer, stede’s still in his belly of the whale moment, so instead of remembering what he learned at the party (that now is the time to say fuck you fuckers, here or not ed would be horrified to hear this and thus i am horrified, because his pain is my pain now that i know it exists and then burn their lives down) he backpedals, but he doesn’t take it back.
ed’s a killer: the worst thing he could possibly say.
the secret ed told him—the secret i would guess ed has only spoken aloud to stede in that exact way— alone in their little bathtub confessional: he denied it. he knows that ed has hurt people and let people die, and while the morality hair is being split admittedly fine there along with the exact definition of murder, to ed that makes a difference.
and because stede is flawed and human and kind of an asshole sometimes but at the end of the day, so so wonderful: he knows that even if ed will never know he said this, it matters. stede will know it happened, that these gross men wanted to point and laugh at his friend and the man he doesn’t yet understand he loves, and that stede didn’t protect ed from that.
the world ed moved in means he was told the acceptable methods of protection only have to do with the physical world; you teach a man to fight, you shield him with your body, you fuck around and jostle. he was starting to test those limits and move outside his box to allow his other instincts and desires to surface alongside the parts of himself he allowed out already, but these men don’t care about any of that.
it’s supposed to be stede’s job to protect ed here, because ed is perfectly fucking capable but he shouldn’t have to, and because these are stede’s people — or more accurately, it’s everybody in the crew’s job to protect each other because that’s what a fucking family does, and without frenchie and abshir and the rest of his compatriots, stede wouldn’t have been able to do what he did at the party.
unfortunately stede left the crew when he left ed, even if he didn’t see it that way. they would have reminded him who he actually is: the gentleman pirate, thieved plant and all. they know he’s a weirdo and he might misuse all the oranges again, but they love him. part of loving him is knowing he’s still on his way to figuring it out, and giving him a little more room to grow within their space. that’s what you do when you love someone: even when they drive you nuts, you give them way more benefit of the doubt than you would some asshole on the street. (or in a bar.)
because he’s worth that love and kindness and does the same for others, stede tries; he redirects, won’t say another mean word about ed (won’t say a single word about ed, in fact) but the words he already said ring in his ears. he lied in a way that would be a particularly rough blow to ed’s feelings, he didn’t stand up for ed enough after that, and he fucking knows it.
so he stumbles back into the party and is a real shithead to mary (while... acknowledging she should absolutely be mad at him... for being a shithead. stede fuckin bonnet, i fuckin challenge you to c’mere a second i wanna give your complicated, sad face a gentle hug) but what he says is very, very important.
the gentleman pirate, he called himself at the bar. ed called him that when they met; the crew went full sports movie locker room speech vibes confirming it in front of the royal fucking navy and thus probably god. stede finally believed it in that moment, that he was achieving his vision of forging a new path in piracy. maybe all the nice things people said about him were... not something to just brush off???? seems fake, but big if true!!!!
and then chauncey’s big dumb mouth and big dumb gun blew that rising thread of confidence to absolute shreds along with his big dumb face, so here stede is: yelling at mary and pretending he’s not just yelling at himself.
he says mary needs to give up her fake title: he means, i hate myself. i was never actually that strong and loved man. i was not a gentleman or a pirate and i did not have a family. i was pathetic, there and here, and i will never be anything other than that.
my father was right.
and then mary has fucking haaaad it and tries to STAB HIM! IN THE EARHOLE! and we get like, the most gorgeous move into a journey out of the underworld/reverse lot’s wife deal where stede’s sin was not looking back and it’s going back and dying that heals him and i am. i am honestly sort of lowkey forever wanting to chew on this show like old bubblegum but it never seems to lose any flavor!!!!
love it.
#my ofmd meta#ugggggh stede like. ugh. ugh. ugh. LOVE HIM SAD FOR HIM#we all fuck up and can still be loved anyway is woven into the core of this show#NAY#we WILL fuck up and we WILL still deserve love#like: this is so sad and real#i love textured characters i love writing that holds them accountable and holds them gently at once#not excusing or writing off just... understanding#and showing such incredible compassion while at the same time saying: get a load of this mess amirite#truly: the attitude of olu#love it. the show has the soul of olu#olu is the show's soul#thanks for coming to my insane tag tedtalk bye#ofmd spoilers
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Hi! So, I absolutely love your series where the MC is the kid of Lucifer, and I was wondering if I could request that with Diavolo and Barbatos? •v•
:0 you definitely can! Right now I’m just doing Diavolo, but Barb’s will be up sometime soon!
MC is Half Demon and Oh Shit They’re Diavolo’s Kid-
Diavolo wasn’t exactly what one would expect of the prince of Hell, I mean, he was suppressing the urge to bounce in his seat from pure excitement. I mean, his exchange program was starting! Humans, demons, and angels, all together, his dream was coming true.
All that was left was for the student to arrive, the portal opened, and the human fell flat on their back. Oof, maybe Diavolo should have set up some kind of landing zone filled with pillows. No matter! The human was-
…
What peculiar eyes this human had…
Oh… oh dear…
Dad-volo
The MC was his child, no question about it. This was… very unexpected. Well, the entire assembly hall was completely quiet, and the kid looked like they were getting impatient.
“HEY! Mind telling me what the hell is going on?!”
After that, Diavolo launches into his explanation, also the explanation that he’s definitely this kid’s dad. Kid was not impressed, they tried to square up with Diavolo and Lucifer had never been more confused as to what to do.
Well, the moment MC sprouted wings and launched themselves at Diavolo, Dia caught them with one hand and continued speaking like nothing happened.
MC, please calm down… Diavolo didn’t know they existed, let him make it up to them! They’re going to stay at the Demon Lord’s Castle! Dia’s going to be a good dad!
“This feels like the plot to the world’s most messed up fairytale.” MC jammed their hands into their pockets and grumbled. “I get sucked into hell and find out I’m royalty there. Great.”
Diavolo managed to smile and awkwardly reach out to give them a pat on the head, then retracted his hand after the kid shot him a glare. “Well, it’s not a very traditional fairytale, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time here.”
“Mm, sure.” MC mumbled.
Okay, so his child wasn’t that enthusiastic about the exchange program, but Diavolo was sure they’d come around.
Dia tried everything he could possibly think of to get his kid to both like him and enjoy their time as an exchange student. A lot of things had… mixed results.
Also, legally recognizing MC as his child and legitimizing them caused a big stink amongst the nobles who were opposed to the exchange program to begin with. So MC then had to deal with a few assassins. Wonderful. Fantastic. Show stopping. Dia, be a good dad and comfort your angsty murder target- I MEAN preteen.
They do manage to build a good relationship fairly quickly despite their less than stellar first impressions, and Diavolo made them a promise that he knew he wouldn’t ever break: he would let them live as normal a childhood as possible.
This means that MC gets to do all the normal kid stuff that Diavolo wasn’t allowed to do. It honestly works out great for everyone. MC gets to live their life, Diavolo gets the satisfaction of knowing that his kid’s having fun, and Barbatos doesn’t need to worry about MC causing chaos in the castle.
Man… does this kid’s magic potential scare the shit out of everyone though…
Tired Uncle Lucifer
No. This has to be a violation of his worker rights. It cannot be legal for him to be this stressed.
He knew this exchange program was a bad idea. LUCIFER FUCKING KNEW IT. This kid was judging him. Why did he suddenly feel self conscious about every single one of his features? This child was picking him apart and they hadn’t even said anything!
He confiscated Asmo’s phone immediately, this was a matter of national security! Satan’s too! Beel as- oh shit Lucifer may have to give Beel the heimlich maneuver, then take his phone.
When all the brothers eventually got back to the HOL, they were greeted with Mammon getting shaken down by Levi.
“Lucifer! Ya won’t believe this! Levi- what’s wrong with you?” “The exchange student is Diavolo’s child.” “What..?” “*pops the cork off a bottle of Demonus* the exchange student’s Diavolo’s child.”
The worst part about this kid was that they took to the privileges of being royalty like a fish to water. MC went out and did whatever the fuck they wanted, and Lucifer needed to make sure a state of national emergency wasn’t called just because MC picked a fight at RAD.
It didn’t help that MC was just so unimpressed with Lucifer. Anytime Lucifer would tell them not to do something they would just raise their eyebrows and challenge his authority without saying a word.
What the fuck.jpg
The things he does for his prince boyfriend…
Cool Uncle Mammon
Huh, so this little pipsqueak is Lord Diavolo‘s kid? Hm, do ya think they’d let him into the royal treasury? No? Okay… lame.
Mammon then decides this kid would be just perfect for scamming people! Who is going to say no to the Crown Prince’s kid? A suicidal person, that’s who!
And the kid is… up for it? Wow, Mammon didn’t even have to grovel! Awesome!
It’s such a shame that Lucifer came in and promptly removed MC from Mammon’s presence. Tsk, killjoy…
Mammon and MC do get along swimmingly after MC stops angsting. Whenever they hang out it’s pure chaos.
And they would have gotten away with it too- wait, they do get away with it. Because who’s going to question the Crown Prince’s kid? >:)
Reclusive Uncle Leviathan
Levi was in the middle of throttling Mammon for his money back when Lucifer burst through the door looking like he had spent over 1000 Grimm on a gacha game only to not get the card he wanted.
And where was that human he said would be staying with them? Huh? The human’s HUH????!!!!
… wack. Maybe he shouldn’t have skipped out on that Student Council Meeting…
Either way, ew, new person he needed to talk to. NO THANKS. Well, no thanks until MC started to visit the HOL to hang out with Mammon. Of course those two normies decided to bug him. OF COURSE.
Levi finally snapped when MC loudly proclaimed that they could totally beat Levi in Mario Kart. Haha, NO. Levi challenged the little runt to a 1 v 1 race on Rainbow Road.
Kid lost. Obviously. Rainbow Road is rigged.
Honestly, kid’s alright. Still a total normie, but not completely terrible.
Cat Uncle Satan
Huh, a half human child of the soon to be demon king, how very interesting.
Oh, and just look at Lucifer’s face. :D priceless. Satan wished he was fast enough to get his DDD out to snap a picture, but he wasn’t able to…
But back to MC, oh how very intriguing. How much power do they have in comparison to Diavolo? Will using that power rip their fragile little body apart? Would they learn to control it? Satan was just dying to find out.
His feelings on the child themselves were mixed at best. They were clearly unhappy with the situation and Satan could sympathize, being thrust into a completely new world and then being told you can’t leave and are also royalty? That has to be hard. But this kid was still being an unreasonable little shit.
Satan continued to try and study MC from afar until the kid themselves walked right up to him and half demanded half pleaded for his help in studying for a test.
Not being one to avoid an opportunity to flex how smart he is, Satan agreed to help out. (Nerrrrd)
And honestly, it went well. When the kid wasn’t being a little shit, they were actually quite pleasant to be around.
Overly Affectionate Uncle Asmo
…wut
Listen, when Asmo asked Lucifer to pick a cute human, he didn’t mean cute as in CHILD.
This kid was DIAVOLO’S?! What lucky human had gotten to have the experience of [Jesus Fucking Christ, Asmo I’m not writing what he said for the sake of the nation]
Anyhoo~ little MC just made his heart go “SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SO CUTE!” They were so cute Asmo could just eat them up!
But they were so mean! That scowl they always had on was going to give them wrinkles and ruin their perfectly cute face!
Sigh, oh well. He can’t manually rearrange people’s expressions. What he can do is take this child shopping. Poor Diavolo was constantly in his RAD uniform, this poor innocent baby shouldn’t have to suffer the same fate.
The kid continued to scowl at everything, but at the same time, their little quips were very entertaining. This little kid spitting verbal venom at anyone who displeased them reminded Asmo of someone… he just couldn’t place who, but they definitely had amazing hair and a cute face :3
Hungry Uncle Beel
Where’s the takeout- I mean human? What’s happening? …are all humans this small? Dang, that’s barely enough for a snack.
So the human’s not going to live with us because they’re not fully human and Diavolo’s kid? Huh. Wild. Anyway, what’s for dinner?
Beel’s not too invested in this drama, he misses Belphie too much to be that interested…
The kid’s weirdly interested in how cool and strong Beel is though. MC tails him to the gym pretty often.
Diavolo and Beel already being gym buddies send tweet-
Since this benevolent little shit likes Beel so much, they decided to take it upon themselves to help with the family drama.
Beel finds that very sweet 🥺
Murder sleepy Uncle Belphie
Oh man… if you thought Belphie was being unfair to L!MC due to their parentage… hoo boy…
When this kid waltzed up the attic steps like they ran the place, Belphie needed to hold himself back from trying to break down the door and throttle this kid.
Pff, of course Diavolo would have a half human kid. Of course.
…kid beat the shit out of him when he tried to kill them. We stan this MC.
After all is said and done, Belphie still isn’t overly fond of MC. They’re brash and rude and only funny 40% of the time. They don’t even like napping 😒
But Beel likes the little runt, so Belphie and MC put up with each other.
Bonus! Your Angelic Uncle Simeon’s Chihuahua
:0 friend!
MC: *speaks*
>:0 not friend! Begone! *throws crucifix*
#obey me#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date#obey me mc#Obey me Headcanons#obey me! headcanons#obey me Diavolo#Obey me Lucifer#Obey me Mammon#Obey me Leviathan#Obey me Satan#Obey me Asmodeus#Obey me Beelzebub#Obey me Belphegor
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for the prompts: NMJ/JC - Everyone with a functioning brain cell can see that JC just needs someone to tell him he’s doing a good job. And if WWX isn’t stepping up? Well, NMJ definitely will. (Preferably smut and/or fluff) Thank you! ❤️
Compliments - ao3
It started in anger, out of spite.
Traditionally, the world took this to be a bad thing, but in all honesty the vast majority of projects in the Nie sect were started that way – they inherited fiery tempers and spiteful personalities from their ancestors along with their saber cultivation traditions – and it didn’t always turn out badly. There were any number of buildings, techniques, or technological innovations in the Unclean Realm that had started life as a furious fuck you to someone and only turned into something worthwhile about halfway through, once the person involved had calmed down enough to think about what they were doing, realize they were already committed, and then shrug and carry on forward because there was no point in stopping a charge midway.
What Nie Mingjue meant was: there was precedent.
He liked to think it started with Jiang Fengmian, but if Nie Mingjue was being honest with himself, it started back in the Unclean Realm when Nie Huaisang had told him, quite casually over dinner, that he thought that the female cultivator in his class was very pretty and that he’d be happy to marry her.
“Uh,” Nie Mingjue had said, very intelligently. “Huaisang, you’re seven.”
Nie Huaisang had not seen the problem. Instead, he explained very forthrightly that it was only right that he start thinking early on about his marriage, as getting married and having children would be his great contribution to the sect on account of being useless good-for-nothing unfit for anything else –
“Wait,” Nie Mingjue said. “Who told you that?!”
Nie Huaisang claimed he had deduced it.
Nie Mingjue claimed that Nie Huaisang was full of bullshit, and also that he wasn’t good-for-nothing even if he wasn’t good at saber, and anyway even if he was a total good-for-nothing he was still Nie Mingjue’s good-for-nothing and no one had better say a single damn word against him or Nie Mingjue would bite them.
“I meant stab them!” he explained, far too late; Nie Huaisang was already rolling around laughing to the point of tears. “I have a saber. I can stab people! I’m actually very scary, you know!”
Nie Huaisang hadn’t believed him one bit and had carried on, seemingly at peace and forgetting everything, but Nie Mingjue had gone seeking advice from all of his elders and counselors and the more dependable senior disciples of his sect, abruptly terrified that he was permanently damaging Nie Huaisang by raising him the wrong way or something. Didn’t children need encouragement at that age? Weren’t they all young and tender peaches liable to be bruised at the slightest glance or young sprouts that needed to be sheltered from the harsh wind lest they grow up crooked?
Everyone assured him that children were hardier than they appeared, flexible and capable of bouncing back from just about anything. He'd pressed, though, pointing out that even the most flexible wood would eventually form a crack in the face of a vicious hurricane, and in the end they'd admitted that it was better to avoid applying too much pressure at too young an age, that a child squeezed too hard or not hard enough might develop neuroses that would hinder them in the future.
They mostly tried not to look at him when they said that, presumably thinking to themselves that Nie Mingjue was little more than a child himself and had already been subject to the worst pressures possible, which would undoubtedly result in who knows what future issues, but he hadn’t paid that part any mind. As far as he was concerned, his life was already a loss – he had sworn to take revenge for his father, to make that ancient monster Wen Ruohan pay with his life for what he had done and furthermore he'd sworn to pay back the blood debt in full before any of that burden passed to Nie Huaisang.
Letting Nie Huaisang grow up happy – that was what mattered.
Letting him be insulted when Nie Mingjue wasn’t looking played no part in that plan. If Nie Huaisang were going to be insulted, let it be by outsiders who he wouldn’t need to care about! Within their Nie sect, at minimum, he should be doted upon and honored, or else those responsible would have to explain themselves to Nie Mingjue.
Those dark thoughts still lingering in his mind, he had gone to the Lotus Pier for a discussion conference, and that, perhaps, was where it really started.
Rumor had already made the entire cultivation world aware that Jiang Fengmian had found the orphaned son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, and that he had taken him into his home as his ward, allowing him to become a Jiang sect disciple – treating him almost as one of the family, even. That much was known, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Jiang Fengmian proudly introduced him or even more proudly showed him off, praising him to the high heavens.
What did come as a surprise was how little he praised his own son standing beside him, despite them being only a few days apart in age. It was as if Jiang Fengmian had simply forgotten that such a creature existed, much less that he had himself contributed to its spawning, and the constant looks of hope – invariably crushed – the child sent him made it clear that the present situation had been going on for some time.
Fuck you, Nie Mingjue thought, seeing red, seeing instead Nie Huaisang in his failed saber classes, struggling so desperately to keep up with the rest even though his body wouldn’t allow for it, being told he was useless and a good-for-nothing and fit for nothing but marriage. Fuck you, Jiang Fengmian.
He couldn’t say that, of course.
So instead he said, “Excellent stance,” to the child, who'd received the courtesy name Wanyin but seemed to be universally called Jiang Cheng. “Do you know the others in the set?”
Jiang Cheng, staring at him, very slowly nodded, and demonstrated them.
“Absolutely perfect,” Nie Mingjue said loudly, drawing attention to himself with his over-loud voice that everyone would automatically forgive on account on him being both a Nie and a young man. “You can see how hard you’ve worked at it, and it has paid off handsomely. You are very lucky in your son, Sect Leader Jiang.”
“…thank you,” Jiang Fengmian said, a little bemused at being interrupted. He’d been talking yet again about Wei Wuxian’s brilliance at picking up the sword again after years of living on the streets without practice, even though at the moment the smiling boy's admittedly impressive skills were still largely wild and undisciplined.
Nie Mingjue nodded, and said: “When exactly did you say the opening festivities would be starting?”
Jiang Fengmian had clearly forgotten about that in his enthusiasm, so he quickly hurried back to the actual subject at hand and the discussion conference was started in earnest.
It was almost enough to allow Nie Mingjue to forget the matter and put it behind him.
Or, it would have been, if only Jiang Fengmian hadn’t continued to insert praise for Wei Wuxian at every possible instance – it was as if he were the man’s first-born son, rather than another person’s child.
Irritated beyond belief, Nie Mingjue started complimenting Jiang Cheng every time Jiang Fengmian said something nice about Wei Wuxian, and he made sure to keep his compliments accurate: he was a hard worker, dedicated and sincere, thoughtful, clever, not overly arrogant…
“Wei Wuxian came up with his own ideas for a sword style already,” Jiang Fengmian claimed at one point. “You can see him on the training ground now, practicing it – take a look!”
Nie Mingjue picked up a stone and flicked it over with his fingers, making Wei Wuxian jump half a chi into the air and nearly fall on his ass.
“Weak foundation, and he over-commits,” he analyzed dryly, because it was true, and because no one else was saying it. He didn't make it any harsher than it had to be: he had nothing against the boy himself, of course; it was only that he knew from experience that it was much easier to be the one being complimented than the one not. “He’s got his head so high in the clouds that his feet are barely touching the ground – the weakest fierce corpse would knock him flat as a pancake with a childish style like that. He’d be better off sticking with orthodox or he’ll end up in real trouble one day.”
“Sect Leader Nie, really,” Jiang Fengmian said disapprovingly. “He’s only nine.”
“Old enough to pick up bad habits,” Nie Mingjue retorted. “Your son’s the same age and he’s as steady as a rock. If Jiang Cheng keeps going as he is, he’ll have a strong enough base to outlast the fiercest storm.”
“A rock has no imagination,” Jiang Fengmian said, and was he actually arguing that his son was inferior? Out loud, in front of outsiders? Did the man have no shame? “Mingjue, you’re young, but you must know that my Jiang sect prizes freedom and creativity as the highest virtue –”
“Would you rather build a house using a firework or a foundation stone?” Nie Mingjue asked, doing his best not to outwardly bristle at the condescendingly intimate use of his name by someone who might be technically his elder but legally his equal. “Tell me, Fengmian, does your Jiang sect’s acclaimed ‘freedom’ only allow for people to be as fluid as the river and not as steady as the earth?”
Jiang Fengmian faltered, clearly not knowing how to answer that.
Nie Mingjue raised his hands in a sarcastic salute: “As the leader of a sect whose style is based on a grounded foundation, I would be very happy if you would educate me in your wisdom. No doubt my peers would benefit as well.”
Perhaps it was at that point that Jiang Fengmian realized that his words could be misinterpreted as an insult to all the sects whose styles were less free-flowing than the Jiang – just about all of them except for maybe the Lan and their subsidiary sects, given their preference for techniques modeled on the wind over the water – and moreover that this was a discussion conference, where every word was political, and that a great deal of people were glaring balefully at him. He hastily moved the conversation onwards, and left the subject of his sons for another day.
Later that evening, Madame Yu came over to where Nie Mingjue was nursing a bowl of very fine wine that he didn’t especially feel like consuming. Before he could start worrying about the Purple Spider’s intentions, she said, voice stiff, “Your words regarding my son are too kind. His skills are still inferior; he has a great deal of progress yet to be made.”
“He’s only nine,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling mortified that she’d noticed his little temper tantrum, which he had belatedly realized was probably extremely obvious. “Anyway, I wasn't lying. He has a good foundation; he’ll be a fearsome cultivator one day, there’s no doubt. I only said what I saw.”
“You didn’t comment about Wei Wuxian,” she said. “You must have noticed his genius.”
“Geniuses don’t need to be praised overmuch,” Nie Mingjue said. He himself had been termed a genius by his teachers, and he’d hated every single moment of it – couldn’t he just be good at things without having people fall all over themselves to compliment him? He’d enjoyed it at the start, but after a while it had started to wear on him; he was expected to be a genius in all things, and being simply ordinary was suddenly seen as failing. “It’s the ones that have to work hard that do, or else they’ll be discouraged…comparing someone to another person’s child works as a spur to a certain extent, but after a while it loses its potency as a tool.”
Your husband is a fucking idiot, he didn’t say. It’s his own son! How could he speak like that about him? Shouldn’t he be holding him in his palms like a gentle flame, protecting him from the wind and rain? How can he bear to scold his son when he hasn't shown that the scolding is meant for his benefit?
“Perhaps,” Madame Yu said, but it was clear on her face that she wasn’t about to start taking parenting advice from a half-grown sprout like Nie Mingjue. “Nevertheless, your words were kind.”
She swept away after that, much to his relief. He shook his head and daydreamed about a magic tool that would make this whole nightmarish experience go by that much quicker.
In the end, it went by at the same speed it always did. It could have ended there, but Nie Mingjue kept up the habit of blatantly complimenting Jiang Cheng in future sect conferences as well, if only because it clearly irritated Jiang Fengmian – less because Nie Mingjue was praising his son and more because it was so obviously meant as an indirect critique of Jiang Fengmian’s skills as a parent or sect leader, and moreover it reminded all the other sects of that unfortunate interchange and made them less inclined to listen to him – and of course, because, well, once you’ve started a charge, you had to finish it even if you came to your senses about halfway through.
He made sure to keep it proportionate, of course, since there was nothing worse than false praise. He didn’t really mean anything by it, other than the half-formed thought that someone ought to be doing it – that the boy should know that someone looked at him and Wei Wuxian and remembered to praise him first. Nie Mingjue praised Wei Wuxian too, of course, since the boy often deserved it; it was only that he made a particular point not to forget about Jiang Cheng, either.
(He also made sure the other sect leaders saw how well the technique could be used to fluster Jiang Fengmian, an intrusion into his personal life that could be masked in perfect politeness, and several of them picked up the same tact, though less consistently than Nie Mingjue – Sect Leaders Jin and Wen, naturally, always looking for a weakness, but interestingly enough also Lan Qiren, who was normally above such petty maneuvers. Possibly he was actually just complimenting Jiang Cheng because he sincerely approved of him.)
He didn’t think much of it.
Nie Mingjue didn’t think much of it during the other discussion conferences, or when he came to the Cloud Recesses to pick up Nie Huaisang, who had – amazingly – actually managed to pass this time, although the expression on Lan Qiren’s face suggested the pass might have more to do with the other sect leader’s desire to never see Nie Huaisang haunt his classroom ever again.
“You know what, don’t tell me. Tell me….hm…how did Jiang Wanyin do?” Nie Mingjue asked, hand over his eyes as if it could forestall the headache. “He’s a bright boy, and knows how to put his mind to something when he wants. Tell me about him instead, it’ll be less depressing.”
“He’s very bright,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Very thoughtful, and very thorough. He sometimes errs towards conservatism out of fear of giving the wrong answer, but that’s just a matter of confidence; his thinking is very good. He’s very clear-sighted as long as the matter is logical, rather than emotional.”
“No surprise,” Nie Mingjue grunted. “He’ll be a sect leader worthy of respect, in his time.”
When he’s rid of that father of his dragging him down, he thought ungraciously, and he saw Lan Qiren bob his head in a sharp nod of unspoken agreement.
“All right,” he said. “I’m adequately fortified now. Tell me about Huaisang.”
Lan Qiren gave him a look of profound sympathy.
It wasn’t until much later, during the Sunshot Campaign, that it was first called to his attention – by Jiang Cheng himself, oddly enough.
“Why do you keep doing that?” he hissed, having stayed behind after one of their meetings.
Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Doing – what?”
“You – you said – about me…!”
Nie Mingjue tried to recall what he’d said during the meeting just now. “That you – were doing an excellent job while facing much higher level of obstacles than everyone else?” he hazarded, because he had said something like that. “Or was it the bit about how if any of them had needed to rebuild their sect and fight at the same time, we’d all be doomed because they couldn’t multitask for shit?”
Yeah, it was probably that one.
“I didn’t mean any offense by referencing what happened to your sect,” he said, hoping to explain. “It was only –”
“I didn’t take offense,” Jiang Cheng mumbled. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but – it happened, everyone knows that it happened, not talking about it isn’t going to make it not have happened. That’s not what I meant…why do you keep saying such nice things about me?”
Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Because they’re true?”
Jiang Cheng’s cheeks flushed red. “You’ve always said nice things about me. Ever since I was a little kid – every time you saw me, at the discussion conferences, or the Cloud Recesses, or even in your letters to my father…”
He had in fact done that.
“I just want to know why. Is it – my father’s not around, you can’t be doing it just to piss him off, even though I know that was part of it. Why me?”
Nie Mingjue coughed a little, having not realized that Jiang Cheng had noticed. Or possibly even overheard, in regards to the Cloud Recesses. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of the other person’s child,” he said, and Jiang Cheng nodded his head sharply, clearly thinking of Wei Wuxian. “You’re Huaisang’s.”
“Me?” Jiang Cheng seemed unduly vulnerable when he asked. “You compare him – to me?”
“It’s amazing he tolerated you at the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. In fact, his brother had all but declared war on Jiang Cheng in absentia on account of all Nie Mingjue’s comments, only for his first letter home from the Cloud Recesses that year to be I see why you like him! He’s cute! A perfect match for you! because he’d apparently decided that Nie Mingjue had a crush on the boy.
Which he certainly hadn’t – at least not when he’d been that age, anyway. Jiang Cheng had grown up to embody every single one of the compliments Nie Mingjue had paid him when he’d been younger, especially with the maturity and natural aura of command that came to him after his personal tragedy.
“But why…you knew Wei Wuxian about as well as you knew me.”
Nie Mingjue snorted. “And that would have helped Huaisang how, exactly? If I wanted to compare him with someone who picked things up the first time they saw it, I wouldn’t need to go outside the Nie sect for that – I was also considered a genius when I was young. It’s no failing to be born without a vast and unending natural talent; Huaisang’s issue has always been his unwillingness to put in the effort.”
Jiang Cheng stared at him.
“Anyway, your father was so blinded by his adoration for Wei Wuxian that he overlooked your merits, which are different but no less impressive,” Nie Mingjue added. “As someone who was trying to figure out how to raise a child, it irritated me; I thought someone ought to make it clear to you that you were seen.”
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice strangely hoarse. “Yes, you – you succeeded.”
He paused for a moment, meeting Nie Mingjue’s eyes intently, and then abruptly said, “I’ll be leaving,” and dashed out.
Nie Mingjue wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he should stop or not. Jiang Cheng had said he wasn’t offended…anyway, it was a fixed habit by now. He’d been doing it for over half his life! He couldn’t stop that easily! It would be like trying to stop his temper, or a charge – there was nothing for it.
Jiang Cheng would just have to live with a few compliments.
“Wow, you’re an idiot,” Nie Huaisang said when he told him about the incident, months later while he was lying in bed, recovering from the disaster that had been the end of the war. “I’ll fix this.”
“Fix what?”
“I’m going to tell him you’re dying,” Nie Huaisang decided.
“You’re going to do what?!”
“Stay in bed, da-ge! Doctor’s orders!”
The Nie sect chief doctor was an extremely terrifying person. Nie Mingjue stayed in bed.
Some time later, Jiang Cheng stormed in, face pale.
“Huaisang’s a rotten liar and I’m going to be fine,” Nie Mingjue said at once.
Jiang Cheng stopped mid-storm, and abruptly deflated. “Really?”
“Really. I would’ve stopped him, but I’m stuck in bed for the moment.”
Jiang Cheng took a seat next to him. “That sounds serious. You shouldn’t underestimate war wounds, especially given your sect’s tendency towards qi deviations...”
“Compassionate as well,” Nie Mingjue teased. “I’ll have to add that to the rotation of compliments.”
Jiang Cheng flushed red. “You’re…planning on continuing?”
“For the rest of my life, however short it might be,” Nie Mingjue said, because he was an honest person, even when it was inconvenient. He was going to explain about the habit, and the concept of stopping mid-charge, but he didn’t manage to start before Jiang Cheng grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up into a kiss.
After that, he figured that maybe explaining that part of it wasn’t necessary. He might be slow on the uptake, but he wasn’t actually stupid.
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❝𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝❞ ─ 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧
i don't want your sympathy, i guess ive had it rough but you don't really care
❥ content ; gn reader, eventual fluff, angst, pining, happy ending
❥ warnings ; injury, swearing, mentions of death
❥ synopsis ; when you get badly injured during a mission, only then does levi realize the depths of his feelings for you. now the question is, is it too late?
❥ a/n ; i don't have a taglist yet so feel free to ask to get added!
You glided through the trees alongside your team, adrenaline running through your veins.
Kicking yourself off a tree, you landed your body with ease onto a lone Titan spotted in the forest below you. With a swift swing of the blade, the Titan was on the ground.
Finished, you zipped yourself back into the air, joining your team member's formation as you all flew together.
"Y/N!" Captain Levi shouted, resent dripping off of his words. Here we go again. "Do not deviate from original course! We are here to scout, not to thrill seek."
The team came to a slow. They stood on the branches, overlooking the land beneath them.
"I was not thrill seeking, sir, I was doing my job," you defended, turning to Captain Levi. Though he was shorter than you were, his cold stare and unwavering demeanor intimidated you.
"Your job is to follow my orders, brat, not go off wandering like an idiot!"
"I didn't wander, I was quick to regroup! You're just finding a reason to take your anger out on me," you retorted. "Then again, I wouldn't be surprised. Considering your height, it's no wonder you can barely contain your anger in such a small body."
As much as he wanted to push you off the tree, Levi kept his poise.
By now the team could hear you and Levi's bickering, but considering they were used to it, they decided to butt out and focus on planning the route.
"Stable duty when we get back."
And then he walked away, leaving you fuming.
As you continued with the scouting mission, you encountered too many Titans that you couldn't just brush them off. Angry and left with no choice, Levi shouted orders to forget the original plan and fight back.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted two Titans approaching Jean and Armin with intent. You narrowed your eyes. This was your chance. You bolted off the tree, flying fast towards the two Titans. You got your gear out, ready to slice their napes, when one of the Titans looked your way, a sick smile on its face.
"Y/N!" Armin called out in a panic as the Titan extended its arm, swiping at you like a fly. Before its hand could collide with you, you were pushed out of the way by none other than Levi.
He wrapped his arms around you securely, one underneath your bottom and his other around your back. You heard him whisper a profanity, his hot breath fanning your neck as he spoke. Though it wasn't the time or the place, you couldn't help but let your mind wander.
You were brought back to reality when Levi glided deeper into the forest, setting you down onto the ground harsher than necessary.
Totally caught off guard, your back was shoved against a tree. Levi was quick to block your exits, predicting you would try to resist.
His arms caged you between him and the tree, leaving little to no distance between your bodies. You could feel your face get hot, either out of embarrassment or his body heat mixing with yours.
"What the hell is wrong with you, brat?!" Yelled Levi, eyes wild with rage. However, something felt different about this compared to when he scolded you for separating from the group. But you couldn't quite put your finger on it.
"Me?" You scoffed. "You're the crazy psycho who stole me away and cornered me in this forest!" You pushed at his chest, successfully shoving him off of you. "I had everything under control."
"You were almost killed! I can't have reckless people on my team. I'm a captain, not a babysitter, so get your shit together or get the hell off my team."
You stood against the tree quietly, Levi's venomous words stunning you into silence. Levi continued to stare deep into your eyes, his expression never changing. However, as the seconds passed, you saw a sliver of regret in his eyes, lasting only for a mere second.
You took a deep breath, trying to choose your words carefully. "I- Just.. Why do you hate me so much?"
Levi raised a brow while you continued to speak.
"I know I'm not the best fighter. Not compared to Misaka or Eren. But what did I do to deserve so much hatred from you? Even when I'm not doing anything wrong, you look at me like I'm the most disgusting person you've seen."
Despite feeling a sting of guilt at your words, Levi put on a dismissive act. "Tch, you're being dramatic. I'm not about to discuss this with you."
Why the fuck did he say that?
"Maybe if you listened to me for two damn seconds you wouldn't get such an earful."
Why is he being such an asshole? Gods, just tell them already. Stop this bullshit.
No longer finding it in you to care, you began to raise your voice, angry tears spilling down your face. "I try my best to make you like me. I try to show you that I'm capable and strong, but you still treat me as if I'm inferior. Like my skills are nothing. Like I'm nothing."
Emotionless, Levi replied, "Because you are. Look at you. You're a crybaby. You should've stayed back." Lies. All lies.
"Ugh- well maybe you should've just let me get killed since you despise me so much!"
With that, you grab your gear and zip away as far from Levi as possible, tears blowing out of your face and into the wind.
"Hey, where are you going?!"
You ignored him as you continued to speed through the trees, searching for your team. Your friends. Anybody.
"Y/N! Look out!"
You heard Eren shout, making you spin around frantically to search for the danger.
There it was.
An Abnormal ran your way, crawling like a dog on its hands and feet.
It had been chasing the team for a while now, evident in its animalistic, hungry look.
Steadily hanging off a branch, you watch the Titan from afar, then look back at the team.
"I'll distract it! You guys go!"
They looked at you as if you had grown two extra heads.
"You'll die!" Mikasa argued. "We can take it!"
"Just go!"
The Titan started to get closer. The team looked behind you, then back at you. Though they looked ready and determined to take it down, you knew they felt as terrified as you were. Fighting Titans was just something you don't think you'll ever get used to.
"Please be careful. We're gonna find Captain Levi!"
You nodded, then turned around, watching as the Titan ran towards you, totally disregarding the rest of the team.
"You want me? Come get me."
When you decided it was close enough, you darted into the forest and soared through the trees, only narrowly missing them. The Abnormal followed you, but hit itself on the trees and destroyed many in the process.
While the Abnormal continued to run through the forest, leaves and trees blocking its direct vision of you, you took a chance and turned back, flying past the Abnormal.
You did a quick u-turn and hopped onto its back.
You got it now.
As it chased after nothing, completely unaware, you slashed the nape of its neck.
With you still on its back, the Titan went limp mid-jump, falling onto the ground hard enough to create an earthquake. Unprepared for the collision, you went flying off its body.
Instead of bracing yourself for the fall, you frantically reached for your gear in an attempt to glide back up to the trees.
Before you got the chance, your body met with the ground, a loud thud echoing from the impact.
In the distance, the rest of the team continued to fight until they got to the very last Titan. Levi, though he was the last to regroup, helped effectively take down the Titans.
It wasn't evident in his stoic expression, but he searched among his surroundings and the faces of his team for you, afraid the worst had happened. Dammit, why did he have to be such an asshole? What Levi said to you, he meant none of it. But he feared he wouldn't get the chance to tell you that. Idiot.
"Is everybody here?!" Levi shouted as his team gathered around him.
"Yeah, we're alive-"
"Wait, where's Y/N?"
The team began to search among themselves, now becoming anxious as well.
"Well, where are they? Did you not see them at all?" Levi asked in a calm tone, despite his heart beat pounding in his ears. No. He wasn't going to slip up. Not here, not now. He needed to remain strong.
Mikasa spoke up. "We last saw them when we were being chased by an Abnormal! They offered to distract it and take care of it themselves."
Levi shouted, a crack in his voice, "And you let them?!"
"Y/N is strong! One of the best fighters we have here," Eld said. "They've probably already taken it down by now."
"Then where are they?!" Levi growled, becoming more frustrated by the second.
"Hey, look!" Armin yelled, shaking his finger towards the steam in the distance. "Eld was right! Y/N did kill it after all!"
Wasting no more time, Levi commanded the team to follow him. Soon again, they were up in the trees, running your direction. They stopped as soon as they came across a clearing in the forest where the Abnormal laid lifelessly.
"Everyone! Find Y/N!"
The team split, searching the area for any sign of you.
Levi dreaded the thought of finding you like they found the Titan. No. You killed it. You had to be alive.
Levi repeated that in his head. You had to be alive.
Because if you weren't, he wouldn't know what he would do.
Your eyes shot open at the sound of panicked screams echoing around you. You pushed yourself off of the ground in a rush, only to stumble back with an agonizing scream, pain shooting up the lower half of your body.
"Fucking hell! Oh shit," you fell back on the grass defeatedly, hot tears welling in your eyes at the intense pain and aches across your whole body. "Dammit!"
You didn't know which bones were broken, where you were, if you were bleeding out. So you just laid there alone, helpless and numb. Waiting.
Just when the team was beginning to lose hope, a blood curdling scream echoed throughout the forest, easily catching the team's attention. They headed towards the source of the sound, but Levi was the first on it, already sprinting through the forest to find you.
When he did, he felt his heart drop down to his stomach. You laid in a small clearing behind some old trees and bushes, a puddle of blood beneath your body. Your uniform was torn and your 3DMG was rendered useless at this point. If not for the scream, or the fast rise and fall of your chest, he would've mistaken you for being dead.
Levi rushed to your side and got onto his knees, lifting up your body into his arms.
"Y/N? Can you hear me? Y/N?"
You coughed, wheezing and struggling to make a coherent sound. Blood dripped down the corner of your mouth as you spoke, "You were right, Captain. I never stood a chance, did I?Shoulda just stayed." You laughed pitifully.
Now Levi was angry, but not at you. "Shut up! Don't say stupid shit like that! You're going to be okay."
The team found you, stopping short at the sight of Levi holding you carefully, like a porcelain doll, ready to break.
He didn't care anymore. He didn't bother to put up a front. Not when you were like this, half dead in his arms. He pressed his forehead to yours, whispering in your ear so only you could hear.
"I can't lose you too.."
Everyone else only continued to watch the intimate scene unfold before them.
When you fell unconcious, Levi squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to keep his composure. Why was he acting like this? Usually he would be quick to solve problems without letting his feelings get in the way. Why was he so helpless now?
He turned around, scowling at the group who just stood by idly.
"Get over here and help them, you fools!"
You hated it. You hated having to be looked after or saved like a princess in a children's storybook. You didn't want to run away anymore, or simply stand in waiting, hoping for someone to rescue you. You were done being hunted. So you joined the Scouts after years of hard work and training. If you had only thought more carefully or put your parent's advice in consideration, you wouldn't be in your current situation, regretting ever joining Levi's team. You wouldn't have ended up in the infirmary.
You passed out in Levi's arms after suffering from injuries during your fight with the Abnormal Titan, according to your friends. They came by to visit you when the medic alerted them that you had woken up from your coma.
"How long was I out for?" You winced as you massaged your still pounding head. "When did I even get here?"
"You've been unconcious for two days. We retreated to the city as Captain Levi instructed and you've been under their care since," Eren answered. He noticed your demeanor as you looked around the room and picked at your skin, a nervous habit you recently formed. "Everybody's alive, so don't you worry."
"Where are they?"
"Well, they did have to receive medical attention since they got hurt, but they're okay! They miss you, ya know?" Armin said excitedly. "We'll make sure to fill you in on everything when you're out of here."
You pursed your lips. "Speaking of which, when will I be discharged?"
"You can't exactly walk right now, but.. you should be up and ready to go within a week! Then we can go on another mission and-"
"Eren. Armin. Mikasa." Your attention was torn away from Eren, your eyes darting towards the source of the voice.
"Captain Levi!" They all exclaimed in unison.
"I would like to speak with Y/N in private." He glanced at trio, his eyes narrowing. "Out."
The three walked out, heads bowed like sad little puppies. You waved at them as they went before turning to Levi who now stood by your bed.
"What do you want?" You asked bitterly, nose scrunching up in a sneer.
"Commander Erwin informed me of your decision," he spoke softly, differing from his usual cold tone.
You huffed. "Yeah, took your advice and resigned. You won't have to worry about babysitting me anymore."
A pang of guilt shot through Levi's heart, causing him to flinch. He hoped you didn't catch that.
He remembered his own regretful words as it replayed in his head. Just like your cries and pained expression, which he was unable to simply brush off, he couldn't forget how he mistreated you. And he would never forgive himself, either. The sight of your injured body laying there, all alone. He couldn't shake the scene off his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Even in his dreams.
Evident in his eyebags that seemed to have darkened in shade, he wasn't able to get much sleep the past couple days because of it.
"I take it you hate me, then," Levi suggested, prompting you to laugh mockingly.
"Oh, no, I could never," you said, sarcasm dripping off your voice as you fake fawned over Levi. "Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest.. I just adore you."
Levi hid his offended expression and ignored your antics as he continued. "I was afraid I couldn't get the chance to apologize to you. When I found you there, I.." He squeezed his eyes shut and furrowed his brows together, forcing his tears not to fall. Why now?
"Yeah, well, you fucked up. About time you feel a little heartache," you mumbled, looking around the room, anywhere but Levi.
"A little?! Look, I'm trying to apologize here!" He shouted. "Do you have no idea how fucking terrified I've been for you, you brat?!"
"No, Captain Levi, so why don't you enlighten me on how much you care?!" You huffed, crossing your arms. "Because if you did, then maybe I wouldn't be bed ridden!"
Levi's face softened at the sight of a single tear escaping your eye. He took a seat on the bed beside you and reached out to brush away your tear.
With your quick reflexes, you caught his hand and pushed it back towards him.
"Don't you dare touch me. You've done enough damage, Levi. Just go and stop wasting my time."
Just like you, he was stubborn. He stood his ground.
"I-I'm sorry."
You let out an exasperated sigh. "You must think I'm stupid. No way I'm buying that bullshit."
"You need to stop pushing me away, Y/N!"
"What is that, an order?" You taunted. "You don't get to be sorry, Levi. It's too late for that. You waited for me to almost die just to tell me that? Is that what it takes? What if I hadn't survived? What then?"
"You don't think I haven't thought about that?! That's why I'm here!"
"Yeah, and who's fault is that?"
"You should've listened to me! I was trying to protect you!"
"Well thanks a lot. Now both my kneecaps are broken and I won't be able to walk for weeks!" You shake your head. "You think just because we shared a moment while I was dying that I'm okay now? Trust me, if I had the strength, I would have slapped you then and there."
"Then why don't you now?"
"At this point, you're not even worth getting angry over. So stop giving me that pitiful look. I really prefer you shouting at me instead. At least I'm used to it." You mumble the last part, but Levi catches it easily.
"That's it then, you leave me no choice." You look at Levi curiously. "You infuriate me, brat, you really do. You're so careless and oblivious all the time, you forget to look after yourself. And I'm not ready to watch you throw away your life so irrationally from the sidelines."
"So what are you trying to tell me, Levi?"
"Tch, you're just gonna make me say it, aren't you?" He takes a deep breath. "I'm not good at this, and I hate to admit it, to you of all people. It makes me mad to see you risk your life because I care about you.. and I can't lose you. I've dealt with too much death. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive, even if it means dying.." Levi trails off, then scoffs and crosses his arms like a petty little child. "I said it, all right? I like you-- A lot, you stupid brat!"
You searched Levi's eyes for any trace of dishonesty. You hoped he was lying, like he had some sort of script prepared before he came to see you. But you found no lies in his eyes.
You felt your heart break. All this time when you thought Levi just really hated you, he was looking out for you.
"I.. Why didn't you just tell me?" Your voice fell apart as you spoke. "I tried so hard to make you like me back.. And it hurt because I thought you just hated my guts. I had no idea."
"I know, I was being stupid too- It shouldn't have come to this," Levi admitted. "I.. I'll let you rest now."
Levi stood up to leave, but you were quick to pull him back onto the bed with you. Without letting him react, you grabbed his face and interlocked your lips with his. All the tension in his body disappeared and he melted into the kiss, throwing his arms around you tightly like he'd lose you if he ever let go. It wasn't a soft, romantic, movie perfect kiss. It was desperate, tongue and teeth, hands wandering, disheveling the other's hair. You released all of your built up anger and resent, letting it fuel you while you aggresively fought your tongue with his, a faint taste a hint of alcohol now on your own mouth. Occasionally you'd both break the kiss for short intakes of breath and small whispers like 'don't scare me like that again' and 'I've needed this for a while now'. You couldn't help but moan, earning a grin from Levi as he continued to hungrily devour your lips. Just as things escalated, you remembered you were still in the infirmary, and anyone could walk in any minute now. You slowly pulled away, your chest heaving as you panted for breath.
Levi couldn't help but twist his lips up into a little smirk. That was new.
"Well at least you're not a bad first kisser," he spoke nonchalantly, still gasping for air. You playfully punched him in the chest.
"Quite the romantic, aren't you?" You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop yourself from smiling like an idiot. "You're not bad either, old man."
Blush spread across his cheeks.
He took your hand in his, bringing it to his swollen and raw lips and placed a small kiss on your knuckles.
"Promise me you won't leave me again?"
"Promise," you sighed blissfully. "And I guess I'll have to tell Commander Erwin about my change of plans."
"Actually," a deep voice spoke. At the door, there stood none other than Commander Erwin. "I think I already know."
#levi ackerman#levi ackerman angst#levi ackerman fluff#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi ackerman x gn reader#levi ackerman oneshot#levi ackerman imagine#tsundere prompts#beabadoobee#lyric prompts#angsty#aot#levi aot#no spoilers#snk fanfiction#snk levi#attack on titan#rattyoakenbitch
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originally i just wanted dream to recover, preferably in the syndicate. but after today's quackity lore? he deserves to fuck shit up for a bit. let him get his revenge. tommy got his revenge on dream, techno got his revenge on l'manberg, dream deserves to get revenge on quackity and sam! then he can recover after that lol
(context: ask was sent on march 16th and i am very. very late.)
but YEAH !! logic brain says revenge bad and cycle of violence will continue BUT emotion brain wants c!dream to go crazy go stupid !! go beat them up honey we’ll be here with juice boxes and fruit snacks when you’re done <3
i wrote this while looping casino royale by derivakat for (checks time) something like 12 hours straight so uhh,,, yeah LMAO have some of c!dream going apeshit bc honestly he deserves it (/hj)
tw: implied torture, abuse, mentioned injuries, suicide, murder, explosions, death, violence, dark portrayals of c!dream, c!quackity, and c!sam, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault
Sam is uneasy long before he enters Las Nevadas - Quackity’s terse, serious-sounding string of texts he’d woken up to had sent his heart racing before the country even came into sight, and he’s pretty sure the pit in the middle of his gut since Dream escaped a week ago won’t disappear until the prisoner is either jailed or dead at his feet. Still, the city hardly does his anxiety any favors - each step within its limits feels a bit more like walking to his own death, the silent storefronts and looming, boarded up casino seeming to watch his every move, making him pick up his pace to move a little faster and avoid their judging gazes.
Stuck in his head as he is, it’s not until he’s halfway to the meeting place that he realizes how eerily quiet the place is - Las Nevadas has yet to be a particularly busy country with the casino yet to open and their recruits usually doing their own thing in the meantime, but still there’s usually at least one of them lingering on the city grounds, between Fundy’s work on his yacht and Foolish’s construction and whatever Slime does, usually involving an immense amount of following Quackity’s every move. The city as it right now feels much more like when it had been no more than a secret of his and Quackity, months spent with just the two of them working to make Big Q’s vision a reality. There’s something uniquely unnerving about it, like stepping into a ghost town, and Sam’s unease only grows.
“Sam!” Quackity calls from the base of the casino - Sam shades his eyes from the sun as he jogs over. Even from this far, it’s clear Q is displeased - his lips are flat in a small frown, skin taut from where the corner of his mouth is pulling at his scar. His tie is slightly askew and shirt rumpled - he looks disheveled, eyebrows narrowed irritatedly as he taps at something on his communicator. Sam smiles slightly, hollow.
“Hello Quackity,” he responds simply, drawing his trident and bringing it to his side. “You said we needed to meet?”
“Yeah,” Quackity’s voice is distracted, and he mumbles a curse as he jams his finger particularly hard against the communicator screen. “What is up with everyone today? They sent me these- weird fucking messages and then we get here and nobody’s here-”
“Who?” Sam’s lips press together. “You mean like- Fundy? Or Foolish?” They seem to be the ones that Quackity got messages from most frequently, if he remembers right. He doesn’t know for sure - usually, Quackity handles the social side of managing Las Nevadas.
“Fundy, Purpled, Foolish, Slime-” Quackity makes a vague, affronted noise. “All of them! Where the hell are they?”
Sam pauses.
“Q, when did Slime learn to use a communicator?”
“That’s the green one, right?” Both of them freeze, whirling around to the voice behind them, seeing nothing but the empty, arched doorway of the still-locked casino. “Naïve. Easy to fool.” The voice pauses, barks a sharp, quiet laugh. “Made my job easy, at least.”
The voice is familiar- too familiar. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever get that cadence out of his head, not after months after months spent in the prison, hearing it in every possible tone and form. Quackity’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears, teeth bared in a snarl.
“Dream- I fucking swear- where the hell are you?”
“Aw, not so brave when the other person can actually fight back, are we?” Dream’s voice is lilting, mocking, and Sam’s hands tighten on the trident. “Fine, I’ll show myself. I’m not like you- no need to extend this game any longer than necessary.”
Dream slinks out from the shadows, wearing all black and covered in netherite armor, seeming fiddling with a small, grey thing in one hand. HIs stance is wide, torso pulled close to the ground - instead of a mask, his outfit includes a hooded black cloak that pulls down over his face, barely offering a glimpse of his eye glaring from underneath it.
“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me why the hell you’re in my country,” Quackity growls, sword forming in his hand, blade still crusted over with old blood, “And I’ll make your death half as painful as it’ll be otherwise.”
Dream laughs, high-pitched and unstable. “Please- what are you gonna do with that thing?” Quackity stalks forward with a low, wordless yell and Sam only barely manages to snag him back by the wrist.
“Watch it, Q,” Sam mutters, looking closer. Sure enough, there’s a faint, reddish haze rising from Dream’s body, only barely visible, interspersed with some lighter blue wisps. Strength and Speed. “He’s got potions.”
“Outmatched, aren’t we?” Dream cocks his head to the side, a tight-lipped smile visible under the hood’s shadow. “What a shame. I was hoping for a good fight.”
Quackity curses at him, loudly, but mullishly stays in place instead of lashing out like earlier, and Sam hisses a small sigh of relief. He looks back over at Dream - under the sun, he looks worse than ever, armor doing little to hide the gaunt edge of his face, limbs skinny and shaking. His hands tremble, wrists kept close together, as he continues to move the thing within them from hand to hand, small and grey and smooth from what he can tell in flashes between scarred and calloused fingers. He’s still favoring his left side slightly, but his eyes are cold and clear as they follow his every movement, clearly lucid and intelligent. Unfortunately for them, Dream is the best of fighters at the worst of times, and he has no doubt that with potions on his side and themselves relatively unprepared for battle, any fight with him won’t go particularly well.
Negotiation it is, then. “Why are you here, Dream?” If they stall long enough, then the rest of the server can come to back them up, and then even Dream won’t be able to fight back for long. He and Quackity can figure out what to do with him once he’s safely back under their control - for now, they have to play things safe. He pulls out his communicator carefully with one hand, trying to avoid drawing attention to his movements. “I doubt you’re here for a housewarming visit.”
Dream waves his hand slightly. “Something like that-” he bares his teeth in a small smile. “How about a housewarming gift, instead?”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Quackity bites, aggressive in a way that speaks of how threatened he feels, and the pit in Sam’s stomach only grows. Dream’s eye seems to glow as he turns and presses his hands to the nearby wall; when he pulls them back, there’s a stone button fastened on the quartz.
“Say, Quackity,” Dream’s voice is too light to be anything but forced levity, rolling his shoulders back to try and hide the way his entire body has begun to shake even more violently than before. “How much TNT do you suppose it took for Wilbur to blow up L’manburg?”
Sam gasps, low and harsh through his teeth, a quiet, breathless no falling from his lips. Quackity’s head shakes, eyes widening in fury and denial.
“No- no what the fuck did you do- Dream what the absolute fuck did you do-”
“Eleven stacks of TNT, to blow up that country to kingdom come.” Dream laughs, directing his wild, manic expression to look them in the eye. “The amount of TNT hooked up to this thing is ten times that.”
“You’re a liar-” Quackity rushes forward, sword raised, “I’m going to fucking kill you-”
Sam grabs him, again, ignoring his yells to look at Dream, who’s still standing, seemingly unruffled, one hand hovering over the button that’ll spell doom for them all.
“That’ll kill all of us,” he tries to reason, panic clawing up his lungs, “You’re on your last life. You can’t-”
“And what, Warden, makes you think I give a single goddamn fuck about that?” Dream’s voice cracks, slightly, and for a moment Sam almost thinks he’ll break, that he can press the point until the other backs down - but Dream is nothing if not stubborn, and within seconds he’s composed himself again, looking at them with a determined set to his jaw that Sam recognizes well enough from Quackity’s visits to know that he won’t back down. “Everyone else is far away from here. I made sure of that. It’s just you, and Quackity, and me, and I’m pressing this button if it’s the last thing I do. Call it a parting shot, will you?”
Sam pulls at Quackity, wrist still locked in his grip. “Q, we have to leave.”
“I’m not letting him destroy this place Sam, are you out of your fucking mind? This- Las Nevadas- it’s everything- I’m not letting him take this place from me not again-”
“He’s going to kill us all, Quackity,” he throws a water bucket at his feet, charging up his trident. The sign taunts him at the edges of the city borders, far too far away for any of them to even hope to reach. “We have to go now-”
“Say your goodbyes,” Dream taunts, and there’s a quiet click. Sam smells the faint, smoky smell of redstone being activated, hears a hum growing in volume from the ground beneath him. He looks over to Dream, who has a hand pressing the button to the wall, fever-bright eyes wide and wet as he stares at his own hand before shutting them with a soft, almost serene smile. “And see you in hell.”
The world goes white.
[Dream was blown up by Dream.]
[Quackity was blown up by Dream.]
[awesamdude was blown up by Dream.]
#-> my writing#my writing :D#my asks !!#-> my asks#tw torture#tw abuse#tw injuries#tw suicide#tw murder#tw explosion#tw death#tw violence#tw emotional distress#prison arc#pandora's vault
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Summer Lovin’
pairing: fred weasley x reader
requested: no
word count: 3.5k
warnings: smut
A/N: Hi. I hope this is good because i had the idea and just had to write it. Like i’ve mentioned before, I’ve written smut and steamy scenes before, but nothing that I’ve ever really posted and I truly have no idea what i’m doing so I just feel like it’s really bad. Like I’ve debated with myself for a week if wanted to post this or not and finally decided to just go for it and see what happens with it. So, yeah, I hope you like it. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated (even if you want to send me your comments through an anon ask). Just let me know what’s good or what could be better, yeah? & also, just want to through it out there again that I am taking requests (check out my holiday prompt list) as well as doing a sleepover event for the next week or so in celebration of 300 followers <3 Take advantage of it! Xx
Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @lauren2408 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @kaitlynw011 @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter @streetfighterrichie @sarcasticallywitty15 @isthereanymorejello
^let me know if you’d like to be added/removed! (& pls let me know if you’re 18+/comfortable with being tagged in smut) Xx
It had been a rough summer to say the least...at least in Fred’s opinion. He absolutely loved having you stay at the burrow, having been best friends with you since first year, but it truly was quite torturous at times.
He had long ago realized he had feelings for you, but pushed them away in fear of risking your friendship. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you as a friend, but godrick was it hard to keep pretending he wasn’t totally attracted and in love with you.
Watching you go around all summer in your tight, high-waisted shorts with your shirts tied into a knot to show your stomach was difficult to say the least. Even worse than that, seeing you in a bikini the handful of times you all went swimming.
You were beyond attractive and it was driving him mad seeing you in such minimal clothing.
The absolute worst outfit of yours to drive him insane, however, was your pajamas. Having known you were staying the entire summer at the burrow, you had many variations of pajamas, but they were all much too attractive to Fred.
He loved when you wore your short pajama shorts, usually landing just past your ass, along with a thin, baggy tee. He would never admit it to anyone, as he was much too embarrassed by it, but he couldn’t help but look at your chest when you wore a shirt like that for bed.
He knew you weren’t doing it for him by any means, but you never wore a bra to bed and you’d often cross your arms over your stomach when you’d encounter him. The action pushing your breasts up and into the thin fabric where he couldn’t help but imagine what your chest looked liked underneath. He nearly came in his pants the first few times he caught a glimpse of your hardened nipples through the shirt when it had been a bit of a cooler night.
Currently, he has locked himself in the bathroom away from his family as he has a major erection that won’t go away. He knows it’s not you’re fault, but you are certainly the reason behind this.
Having been one of the hotter days this summer, you had all decided you would spend the day swimming, which was fine, except for the fact that you wore a new bikini you must have gotten one of the days you had gone shopping with his sister and hermione.
It was absolutely stunning on you, but it created quite an issue for him. It was so tiny; covering your front, but essentially becoming a thong in the back. Not to mention it was extremely high cut, which elongated your already beautiful legs and accentuated the curves you had grown into magnificently. And then the top was literally just a strip of fabric, a bandeau he had heard you call it, but it just barely covered your breasts and it drove him wild.
The colour of it was phenomenal too, a dusty blue shade that complimented your skin tone perfectly. On top of all of that, you had your hair tied back into messy pigtails which somehow worked perfectly together even though it contradicted your outfit. Seeing you with pigtails was adorable and made you look so sweet and innocent, yet seeing you in that swimsuit brought on ideas that weren’t innocent in the slightest.
Then you had a spattering of freckles on your cheeks and shoulders that had reappeared after being in the sun this summer, which Fred just found intoxicatingly beautiful.
He had tried so hard to keep his thoughts clean, but then you had to go and ask him to help you apply sunblock to your back. He was doing so good, but then smearing the thick white cream across your back had him imagining all sorts of different scenarios.
It had only continued into nightfall as well. You all decided you wanted to do s’mores and hang out around a bonfire tonight after spending the late afternoon and early evening playing quidditch and then having a bbq dinner.
You had changed out of your swimsuit into a pair of jean shorts and an oversized hoodie, which in reality wasn’t the problem. Truthfully, it was the way Fred’s mind decided to work when looking at you.
He couldn’t help but wonder if you wearing a bra under the hoodie, knowing from you and his sister mentioning it that you girls didn’t like wearing a bra more than you had to.
And then his mind would start to wonder what your skin felt like having had sunblock put on you and swimming. He wondered if your skin would feel soft and maybe a bit warmer than it should as it looked to him that you had gotten a very slight sunburn.
And in general he just couldn’t help but get turned on by how attractive you were sitting there in an oversized hoodie - that could be his if he’d own up to his feelings. He couldn’t help but notice how adorable you were with your cheeks spattered with freckles and tinted pink from the sun, not to mention how happy you looked as you smiled and laughed along with your friends and his siblings.
He had finally excused himself after you locked eyes with him after one of his brothers told a funny story, biting your lip to keep from smiling so much. That was the last bit for him. It drove him crazy imagining what you’d look like biting your lip as you tried to contain your moans as he pounded into you. He had been holding on all summer and he just couldn’t push his thoughts away tonight.
So here he sat locked in the bathroom, trying to get his erection to go away but realizing he needed to relieve himself if he had any hope of getting rid of it.
He was honestly embarrassed, not wanting to jack off in the bathroom over his best friend while you were literally downstairs in his backyard.
He groaned as his cock twitched at the thought of you down there. He wanted you so bad that it was physically hurting him at the moment.
He sighs, slowly palming himself over his trousers just to relieve some of the discomfort. He really really didn’t want to fully masturbate right here right now. It was just too awkward.
He groaned as he touched himself, picturing your beautiful face smiling at him, his hips jerking forward when he recounted how gorgeous you were biting your lip.
Before he realized it he had his hand in his trousers, rubbing himself as he recounted all the times he had found you breathtaking this summer.
He groaned as he pictures you in your pajamas, your nipples visible through the thin material of your shirt. He groaned as he imagined you in your high waisted shorts that seemed to just barely cover your ass and accented your thighs that he would love to grab ahold of. He groaned, his eyes shutting tight as he pictured you in your bikinis, you ass essentially on show and your breasts not far behind.
“Oh fuck, y/n” he moaned, trying so desperately to be quiet.
~.~
You frowned when you realized Fred hadn’t come back yet. He never mentioned where he was going, but you were sure he wouldn’t have gone to bed already. Not at least without telling you guys so.
You figure you’ll go looking for him, especially since you wanted to grab another glass of water anyway.
You frown when you don’t see him in the living room or kitchen. Lost in your thoughts you decide to make your way upstairs just to see if he had maybe laid down for a bit.
Not finding him in his room you sigh. Where could the boy possibly be? It’s not like he could just vanish.
You stop when you hear, what you think is, groaning. Was Fred groaning? What for and where?
Slowly you follow the sounds to the bathroom and you let out a breath. At least you know where he is. You go to walk away just as he lets out a particularly loud groan, and it didn’t sound pleasant.
You knock gently on the door, frowning. You hoped he was okay.
Not hearing an answer you knock again, this time a little louder as you call out to him.
“Hey, Freddie. Are you alright?”
~.~
Fred stops, cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment. How bloody unlucky is he to have the girl he’s been masturbating to knock on the door as he’s still jerking himself off?
“Freddie?” He hears you ask again.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine, y/n. Everything’s good.” He sweats, trying so hard to not let his voice betray him.
He’s still so hard and turned on, all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink here and fuck you senseless. He wants you a moaning mess underneath him, begging for him to let you cum.
“Are you sure? You don’t sound good.”
“Y-yeah. I’m sure.”
He’s trying so hard to not let a groan out at hearing your voice and imagining what he could be doing to you right now. Unfortunately he lets one slip out which is more than enough for you to keep pressing.
“Fred weasley, if you don’t convince me that your good in the next few minutes I am coming in there to check on you. You sound sick.”
“I-I’m fine, y/n. Promise. Just p-please don’t come in here.” He nearly cries, thoroughly embarrassed by the situation, but wanting to continue so badly. He’s been so worked up this summer and it’s finally caught up with him.
You frown hearing how troubled he sounds. You can’t just leave him alone - what if he’s sick? Maybe he ate something bad or got too much sun today? You needed to see for yourself that he was okay.
You tell yourself that’s why you mumble alohomora and gently push open the door, making you way inside.
“Y/n! What are you doing?! P-please go.” Fred urges, trying to cover himself before you turn around to face him.
“Not until I know your alright. What’s wro-oh...” you trail off, taking in the sight in front of you.
If your not mistaken, you just walked in on your best friend masturbating. He was beyond flushed, mostly due to embarrassment at being caught, though. Not to mention how messy he looked; his hair messed up from him throwing his head back, his shirt all scrunched up on his chest, and his pants pulled down around his thighs.
You blush as you take in the sight, yet your not able to look away, probably because you’re so shocked and embarrassed yourself.
“I am so so sorry, Freddie. Uh, let me just leave you alone.” You tumble out, quickly turning back towards the door.
“Y/n, wait.” He calls, furiously flushing at the thought that passes through his head. “C-could you please help me?” He stutters out.
“H-help you? How?” You gulp, turning to face him with your face flushed.
“I, uh, I can’t get myself t-to finish. I need more.”
You gape at him, he’s asking you to get him off. Your best friend of six years, who you may have a tiny bit of a crush on, is asking you to get him off.
While the thought excites you, it also makes you beyond nervous. Sure you and the twins were close and flirted around with each other jokingly, but you’ve never once actually made any advancements with each other.
“I know it’s awkward, but I could really use the help.” He mumbles.
“O-okay. Uh, well let me see.”
You bite your bottom lip, completely embarrassed as he stretches himself out again, slowly moving his hand from himself.
You can barely hold back a groan as you take in the look of his cock all red and erect, precum oozing from the tip. It looks absolutely delicious and you forget about the fact that it’s your best friends.
Cautiously you take him in your hand, kneeling in between his legs as he sits on the toilet.
“Oh godrick,” he groans as your hand wraps around his member, the difference in touch enough to make him even harder.
“You’re so pretty, Fred.” You mumble, sliding your hand down his cock, watching as more precum beads at his tip. Gently you swipe your thumb across his slit, drawing a deep groan from inside him.
“Do more. Please, y/n. Please.” He begs, his head falling backwards as his eyes clench shut.
You smirk, loving the reaction your getting from him. Never in a million years did you think you be kneeling here in the burrow’s bathroom jerking your best friend off, but here you were and you were loving every second of it.
Becoming more confident at the sounds he’s letting out, you bring your mouth to him, licking your tongue over his tip.
“Oh fuck. Y/n, sweetheart. Please, please.” Fred groans, his hips jutting up towards your face.
“Please what, Freddie. Tell me what you want your best friend to do to you.”
He groans, jutting his hips yet again at your words. He knows how filthy this situation is. Even though he loves you, you two aren’t anything more than friends and yet here you are ready to suck him off. He knows how wrong it is, yet at the same time it feels far too good to stop.
“Come on, Freddie, love. Tell me what you want.” You coo, slowly licking up and down his cock, paying attention to the vein on the underside of him as well as the edge of his head.
“I-I want your mouth, princess. I want your lips around me.” He groans, trying to watch you as you smile and bring your head closer to him.
“Good boy, Freddie. Very good.” You praise as take him in your mouth, feeling the weight against your tongue and swallowing around him to see how difficult it was.
“Fuck, princess.” He groans, throwing his head back as you do so.
You smirk and swallow around him again before sinking your head down on him more to the point of him hitting your throat.
Fred moans, grabbing at your hair that you had taken out of the braids from earlier.
“Fuck me, y/n. Please. I want you so bad.” Fred nearly cries, tugging at your hair.
You pull off of him, a string of saliva staying connected for a few seconds as he juts his hips into the air.
“You want me around you, baby. Is that what you said?” You ask, kissing at his neck.
“You want to be inside me while I ride you?”
“Yes. Yes, please, princess. Please.”
You chuckle at his neediness, leaving a few more kisses you neck as you stand up.
Slowly you unbutton your bottoms, sliding them down your legs as Fred watches lazily, his cock twitching at seeing you undressing.
“Like what you see, baby?”
“I love it.” Fred growls, eyeing you as you slip your panties down.
You don’t bother with your hoodie as it won’t be in the way. That and you don’t have a shirt or bra on underneath it and your not quite comfortable being completely naked in front of your best friend.
“You ready, baby? You ready for me to sit on your big cock?”
Fred groans, loving your dirty talk. He never would have imagined you taking charge during sex, but then again he never imagined that he would be begging you to get him off. Even though this isn’t quite what he had been imagining, it was still better than nothing. In fact, he almost thought this was better.
“Freddie, baby. You have to tell me what you’re thinking.” You urge, straddling him, but not yet sliding down on him.
“Yes. Yes, I’m ready. I want you to sit in my big cock, princess. I want my best friend to ride me.” He groans, grabbing a hold of your waist as you grind against him, spreading your wetness on his cock. It makes him proud to feel how wet you are, he’s only hoping all of it was because of him.
“Good job, Freddie.” You smile, kissing his collarbones as you slide yourself onto his cock, moaning out at how amazing it feels.
He was just big enough to stretch you out and it felt amazing. You honestly wished you had done this sooner.
“Oh fuck, baby. You feel so good. Feel so good inside me.” You moan, bouncing on his cock as he guides your hips.
“Ohh, Freddie. Right there.” You groan as he rubs right against the spot you need him.
“You like that, princess? You like riding your best friends cock? You love the way I’m filling you up?”
“Yes, Freddie. Love it. Love you and your cock. Feels so, so good.” You groan, arching your back as he hits a spot inside you.
“Oh godrick, y/n.” Fred groans, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you closer to him, his cock twitching happily inside you as your walls clench around him.
“Are you going to cum, Freddie? Going to fill up your best friends pussy with your cum?”
“I know how much you want to.” You whisper in his ear, nibbling at the lobe.
“Oh, fuck. Yes, princess. I want to fill you with my cum. I want to fill you so bad. Please let me, princess. Please.”
“I’m all yours, Freddie.” You smile dreamily, groaning as he juts up into you, his cock twitching.
“Oh, fuuuuck.” He groans, shooting his load inside you as you let out a high pitched whine as you hit your high along with him.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck, princess.”
“That was amazing, Freddie. Do you feel better now?” You ask, breathily heavily into his shoulder as you slump against him.
“So much better, princess. Thank you.”
You smile, nodding lazily as you catch your breath. Now that you’re finished, your not quite sure what to do. Was this just a one time thing? What does this mean for you two? Does this change anything?
“Stop thinking.” Fred chuckles, wrapping his arms around you as your still sitting on him.
“Can’t help it, Freddie.”
“You’re such a worry wart. We literally just had sex, hell my dick is still inside you, and you’re mind is already five steps ahead.”
“Does this change anything for us?”
“I would hope so. You’re the reason I was so worked up in the first place, y/n.” He chuckles, pushing your hair out of your face as you look at him.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. You are so bloody sexy without even trying and it drives me mad. I love having you here this summer, but Merlin has it been torture.”
“Yeah? How so, weasley?” You ask, leaning back and moaning as you forgot he was still inside you.
“If I tell you, we’re going to have to go for a round two; just thinking about you gets me hard.”
“And as much as I’d love to fuck you senseless, my siblings and our friends are probably wondering where we went off to.” Fred says, grinding your hips down into him.
You moan softly, your eyes shutting at the pleasure he’s bringing you.
“So, it’s your choice, sweetheart. We can either go downstairs and pretend that nothing just happened up here, or we can makeup some excuse to explain our absence and we can go continue this in percy’s old room. What do you want to do?”
You whine, not liking how much control he has over you right now. He’s got ahold of your hips, slowly grinding you down into him with his cock still inside you, and he’s letting you make the decision which is the last thing you want to do right now.
“What is it going to be, princess?” He coaxed, kissing at your neck as you had done to him earlier.
“Ohhhh fuck, Freddie. I hate you.” You groan, hating that he’s making you choose.
“I want you.” You moan, burying your face into his chest as it screws up in pleasure.
“Yeah? You want me to go fuck you in percy’s room? You want me to wreck your pussy and fill it with my cum again?”
“Yes, Freddie. Please.”
He smirks, kissing your forehead as he lifts you off of his dick.
“Alright, princess. You get your shorts on and go up to percy’s room. I’m going to go tell everyone that you got a migraine and that I’m going to keep an eye on you for awhile, yeah? I’ll be right up there.”
“I love you, Freddie.” You mumble.
“I love you too, princess. Now go. I’ll be up in a minute. No touching yourself, okay?”
You whine, but nod when he gives you a look. You’ve been wanting him for years and now he’s going to leave you like this after you just rode him? Granted he’ll be back, but you don’t want to wait. If he doesn’t hurry back, you might just have to do what he told you not to.
————————
Part 2 !!
#harry potter#harry potter imagine#harry potter smut#harry potter fanfiction#fred weasley#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley smut#fred weasley fanfic#hp imagine#hp smut#hp fanfic#smut
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