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lightandfriendship · 2 years

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I wrote a Huntlow one- shot!

It takes place after ‘Thanks to Them’, and follows Huntlow as they have the Grimwalker talk. Full one- shot under the cut!

“Hunter. Can I… talk to you?”

The words from behind stopped Hunter in his tracks. He knew that voice all too well.

Hunter turned around to see her standing there— eyes cast him gently. She looked tired, her expression weary and her braids messy. Yet still beautiful.

Then again, Willow always looked beautiful to Hunter. But that was something which was never leaving the safety of his own thoughts. There were times, like when she had winked at him, or cut his hair, that he considered, but he quickly shut that down. Like she… like anyone… would ever want to be with, well, a—

“Yes, Captain?” Hunter replied finally, when he realized he was staring.

Without realizing, he had stopped walking, and Willow caught up to him before continuing. She seemed unable to look him in the eye, and suddenly Hunter became very nervous.

“While you were unconscious,” Willow went on, “Luz… said something. Something that was news to the rest of us. Belos had just told us she helped him meet the Collector, and I don’t think she meant to tell us. But—“

Hunter sighed. So the news was out.

“She told you all I’m a Grimwalker, didn’t she?”

Willow’s eyes widened, and she nodded.

Hunter turned away, and couldn’t stop the tear which rolled down his cheek.

Willow knew what he was. This was a nightmare.

Then, Willow did something unexpected. She grabbed his hand, which Hunter hadn’t noticed had been shaking.

“Hunter, are you crying?”

“Umm.. no?” said Hunter through tears, now streamed down his face.

Willow laughed, “Hunter, look at me.”

Well, the last of his dignity was already done. So Hunter mustered up the courage and turned his head to look at Willow.

She was giving him a bittersweet smile of such warmth, such sincerity, that his heart melted on the spot.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Hunter gulped, as the question lingered in the air like a whisper.

“Because I was embarrassed,” he admitted, as he put his face in his free hand, “because I was ashamed. I’m a clone, Willow. A clone of the brother of a witch hunter. One in a long line that Belos murdered again and again. And I fell for it, for so many years. I believed him. I helped him build the portal, and cause the Day of Unity. You all should hate me.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“What?”

Willow grasped his hand tighter, “We don’t hate you, Hunter. You’re our friend. Does Amity hate Luz because she helped Belos find The Collector? No.”

Hunter kept his face, which turned bright red, in his hand. Had Willow just compared them to Luz and Amity? Who were, you know?

She couldn’t possibly—

He was overthinking it. Clearly. After all, she had very obviously just called him a friend.

Suddenly Willow’s hand loosened, and she tightened her arms around herself as if for comfort. Now, she was the one who couldn’t look Hunter in the eye.

“Hunter, did you honestly think you being a Grimwalker would change anything?” He3r voice started to choke, “You died in my lap, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through. Did you really think we don’t care care about you? That I don’t care about you?”

“But I’m just a clone of..”

Willow put her hand up, “I’m going to stop you right there. You are Hunter. Master sewist, amazing flyer derby player, and one of my best friends. After Gus, of course,” she added with a wink.

Hunter let out a laugh.

“And by the way? I dig the new hairdo. I know it came from something terrible, so if you want me to cut it again I will, but I think it suits you.”

Hunter blushed.

“I don’t even know what it looks like,” he admitted, “I just can feel that it’s longer. And these scars—“ he looked at his arms, “They’re on my face too, aren’t they?”

Willow nodded her head. She began to lift her arm, as if she wanted to reach up and touch one of them, but pulled back.

“I’m so sorry, Hunter. What Belos did to you was… are you sure you want to face him?”

“For Flapjack?” Hunter answered, as he placed his hand over his heart, “Definitely.”

“Yeah,” Willow agreed, “For Flapjack. I did swear to get some revenge before crossing back into the Demon Realm.”

“In that case, I fear for Belos, if he’s facing the Captain’s wrath.”

Willow stopped in her tracks. They had been walking so slowly while they talked that the rest of the group was far ahead of them, leaving them alone.

“What?” Hunter asked.

“It’s just, you act like I’m so strong.” Willow said.

“Well, you are. One of the strongest witches I know,” Hunter said before he could stop himself.

“It’s strange to be thought of that way,” Willow admitted, “Up until Luz came, a few months ago, I was just the bullied girl failing her Abominations class.”

Hunter scrunched his nose, “You were on the Abominations track? Why”

“My dads made me sign up for it for “better opportunities”, but then Belos saw what a natural I was at Plant magic and switched me.”

“That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, now I leave the Abominations to Amity.”

“I still think she hates me after the Eclipse Lake incident.”

“Amity will get over it, if she hasn’t already. Just look what she has with Luz, and they started off as rivals. She almost had her dissected.”

“They’ve come a long way from that.”

Willow looked away. “Yeah, they have.”

Hunter couldn’t help but think of where he and Willow had started— literally being pulled out of the sky, and then locking her and her friends in a cell. Titan, what an idiot.

“For the record, nobody else cares either. That you’re a Grimwalker.”

“Really?”

“Really. I can’t believe you hid it from us this entire time. Were you and Luz keeping these secrets for months?

Hunter nodded, “Ever since we got trapped in Belos’ mind.”

“I wish you’d told me, and the rest of the Emerald Entrails. We could have helped. Learned some more about Grimwalkers.”

“I guess I wish I had now, too. I still wish I was a witch, but I knew when I was in the Human Realm, and well, those were some of the happiest months of my life. Gus noticed and pointed it out one night. Luz even said I was family. And then I found Belos and almost hurt you guys. Again.”

“That was Belos, using you.”

“Yeah, I know. It cost me… everything.”

Willow smiled sadly at him, “But Flapjack’s still here,” she gestured to her heart, “inside of you. And you have me. All of us.”

Hunter could only cry and smile at the same time, suddenly overwhelmed with the weight of this conversation.

Willow didn’t hate him. His friends didn’t hate him. His new family didn’t hate him.

He had lost Flapjack, and yet gained so much these past few months.

Before he knew it, he was crying again.

“Hunter?” Willow asked.

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I… hug you?”

Hunter laughed, and was taken aback. In a good way.

The Captain… wanted to hug him? She really didn’t care that he was a Grimwalker?

It felt like an Illusion, too good to be true. Still, he forced himself to nod, and in a split second Willow threw her arms around him.

She smelt like spring— of fresh mulch and flowers, and it felt like home. Immediately, Hunter wrapped his arms around her too.

They both cried, for all that they had been through. For all of the memories they had made. And there, hugging his best friend, Hunter let the full weight of all that had happened to him. The full weight of the loss.

It was their first real hug, and it was awkward. For one, Willow was far shorter than Hunter— adorably short, he thought. Still, Hunter hoped it wouldn’t be their last.

After all, Flapjack wasn’t the only one in his heart.

#the owl house #owl house #toh #huntlow #thanks to them #hunter #willow park #toh hunter #toh willow #one shot #huntlow fanfiction #toh s3 #toh season 3 #light and friendship

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dearunknown · 11 months

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05/27-28/23 (late night saturday, actually early sunday)

Dear Unknown,

Just got back from the DJ set. I did horribly. I feel so embarrassed I could die. I wish I’d gone to the hospital instead of honoring a commitment. Oh, well. Ezra and I left very quickly. I made us leave very quickly. I want to cry but am too ashamed to cry over something so miserable and stupid. Plus I don’t want anyone’s comfort. I don’t want a kind word or a kind touch from Ezra. Even Caro… well, I’d let Caro do anything to me.

As soon as I got home, I tore off my wristband (yellow) and wrote on it in black sharpie MY LAST DJ SET - 12 AM-1 AM 5/27-28, 2023 WORK.SHOP and put it at a perfect spot so that every morning almost inevitably upon waking up I will be reminded of my laziness, inadequacy, stupidity, vanity, — my weaknesses— and be reminded that I should never try for anything ever, ever again. I should take all my ambitions, all my desires, and shove them away. Nothing is ever going to happen for me. Nothing. The fact that I have a poor-paying but basically respectable job only serves to highlight the absurdity of my life. I want to let myself lose. I want to let myself lose control. I’m over it. I’m over my life. The wanton optimism of my 29 is putrid. It was rotten on the vine. I am a bad, weak, stupid person. I will not make it. I will not break out of my life. Continue living as a hollow vessel, or hang myself. The distinction is completely irrelevant. If I’m alive, that’s just a biological fact. I am the ancient mariner, my albatross is this horrible life I’ve made for myself. My soul is in complete squalor. I am less than anything. I am sorry to darken anyone’s doorstep. When Caro moves to New York, I will throw myself completely to drunkenness and desolate emptiness. I will probably stop taking any ADHD meds this summer, and my antidepressants after Caro leaves. I will be so contemptible and broken. Every day of drinking I will finish with my usual melange of klonopin and trazodone. One day might heart might feel slow enough I can feel it’s loss of feeling.

Today I talked to Nikolai on the phone. He made me promise to give Ezra my credit cards. He also told me to do the same with my alcohol, but I’m not doing that.

I hope tomorrow I feel horrible. I hope the next day, I feel worse. I hope every day becomes more of a curse than the last. In the end, my one heroism will be that I endured for so long.

I will accomplish nothing. I cannot be loved except for the mirages I put up of myself. I should withdraw from anyone who I am not forced to associate with. I will lavish all of my energy upon Caro before they leave. And as they drive away, I will see my future approach the horizon line. And I will collapse into my curse. I only have to be alive for 2 more months, maybe 3 or 4 at most.

Nikolai thinks I’m borderline. He also said that people who are in happy relationships don’t think (as I do of Ezra) about how they wish their partner hated them so much they would break up with them. I hope… I hope it isn’t alcoholism that does it. Although I am completely intent on being an alcoholic now, I hope that’s not what destroys this relationship. How banal. I hope he just grows to see me as I am, as the most contemptible woman. I have done so much evil to Ezra, but the worst thing I have done is certainly make him think he needs me, or wants me, or loves me. I am a ball of maggots projecting the image of a woman.

I hope my mother knows she did this to me. My grandmother did this to me. My aunt did this to me. The world did this to me. But really, I DID THIS TO ME.

I’m never listening to my therapist again when she encourages me to do something challenging. What a waste of everyone else’s time. I’m always going to be a waste of everyone’s time.

Thank you for listening. I hope you’re doing well. I’m sorry to be so self-centered. If you could write me back, I would attentively pour over your letters. I wish you weren’t so unknown to me.

Love,

Elizabeth

#personal

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after-witch · 3 years

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A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You have to be prepared and poised and perfect. But it’s hard to be all those things, even with the looming threat of your husband sitting next to you, when you’ve got a secret hidden underneath your clothes...

Word Count: 1875

Notes: yandere, forced marriage, abuse, bondage, NSFW

Poised.

You must be poised. Every movement, every gesture, must embody a quiet grace. Your face must be pleasant, without seeming garishly joyous. Your voice must be soft, melodic, clear; yet loud enough to be heard without being required to repeat yourself.

You must know how to keep a conversation going smoothly, like water in a stream, yet understand when to keep silent. You must know all of these things and so much more, and act on them at all times in the proper degree; all in order to avoid embarrass yourself and more importantly, embarrassing your husband.

In other words, you must be perfect.

And you try--you have to try, because what other choice does Scaramouche leave you?--but it’s difficult. You were never born for this stifled life he’s pushed you into, for a life spent mostly within the walls of his home or at most, behind the high, impenetrable walls of the courtyard.

A life draped in rich clothing, overseeing fine details of the estate that make your head spin. How many bags of this or that must be ordered per week? When should the bedding in that room be washed? What is the appropriate amount of money to put in a servant’s purse when sending them to the market? Questions you never imagined yourself asking yourself, which now fill your day with a gilded tedium.

There’s a deceptive leisure lurking underneath everything here. True, you no longer have to travel far and wide, selling your family’s wares from heavy baskets carried on your back; you no longer have to search the edges of the forest for edible plants to toss into boiling broth on days when you could not afford meat. You never want for food (unless he takes your dinner away as punishment) and any comfort you could need is within reach, so long as you’re behaving.

But you are on edge, always. Preparing yourself for another pitfall that might open up beneath your feet, and always looking for ways to improve yourself. Or at least ways to avoid earning your husband’s sharp disapproval. Regardless of your efforts, you have been on the wrong end of a harsh insult, a slap, a pinch, a cane, more times than you care to count.

Be prepared, be poised, be perfect. It’s the mantra you repeat to yourself every morning.

The mantra you repeated to yourself this particular morning, in preparation for a meeting he insisted you attend. A meeting which apparently required your finely-tuned skills in pleasing conversation and your much-practiced ability to “pour a passable cup of tea.”

Anyone else might assume it was meant to be an insult, but your time with Scaramouche has led to you to understand that the slightest praise towards you, while minuscule to others, was something you were meant to fall on your knees and thank him for. Sometimes literally, depending on his mood.

Why he wanted you to pour tea for some delegates from Fontaine, and what their increasing presence in the area really meant, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t your place to ask him, and the memory of recent stinging pain on your backside keeps you from feeling even remotely tempted to broach the subject.

So here you are. Dressed elegantly, but not garishly, as is proper for his wife. With a tea pot in your hand and perfectly arranged cups and the ghost of a pleasing smile on your face. Charming words drip from your lips, pleasantries, pleasantries, pleasantries--the type of words Scaramouche loathes yet drums into you all the same.

Prepared, poised, perfect.

Except for the slight tremble of your hands.

Except for the uncomfortable hitch in your breath as you speak.

Except for the fact that there are ropes tied snugly around your breasts, wrapping around your chest and criss-crossing between your breasts with an uncomfortable pressure, all hidden underneath the outfit he’d chosen for you that afternoon.

You’d balked, first--then begged. Begged not to be humiliated like this. What if someone sees? What will people say? You’d even tried to appeal to his pride, suggesting that if you couldn’t fully concentrate on your duties, well, how would that reflect on him?

All that earned you was a glint of a smirk and a tug as he knotted the rope encircling your breasts, making it even tighter than before. His final threat at your continued pleading--”I can always make you go out in nothing but the ropes”--finally shut you up.

And so, here you are. Face hot with shame and something more, silently pleading that your clothing won’t somehow shift and reveal the secret underneath. Despite the layers covering you, you still feel naked, exposed. As if the people indulging in polite conversation can see right through you, see the way your breasts are framed by the itchy ropes. See the way your body is responding to such a total humiliation.

It’s not just the chafing rope that bothers you. It’s the pressure itself. It feels… no, you don’t want to think about how it feels.

Instead, you hone your focus in on the task at hand. Pouring the tea, a nice subtle blend made with Violetgrass flowers. A previous round of guests from Fontaine had enjoyed it so well that Scaramouche had you tell the teashop to start stocking up for future visits.

You wish you could hide the way your hand trembles ever so slightly as you pour the last cup of tea for a woman whose name you regrettably can’t remember. You normally repeat their names over and over in your head, lest you forget and endure Scaramouche’s sharp tongue (if not his cane) later on; but your predicament made it impossible to keep track of new information.

You might be able to enjoy the tea, enjoy the facsimile of polite conversation weaving its way around the table, if only you weren’t so distracted by the tightness, the chafing, the undeniable fact that--oh Archons above, that all of this was making your nipples humiliatingly hard underneath your clothing.

“Do you agree, wife?”

All eyes glance at you. Whatever Scaramouche just said had clearly be addressed to you, only you were too distracted to notice.

In the moments that you’re left half-gaping, mentally groping to somehow pull his previous words out from the ether, his hand snakes around your waist. You feel his fingers on the outside of the soft fabric, searching until they find their intended target--the knot--and tugging hard to tighten it further.

You gasp, your body lurching upward and forward at the sudden sensation of your breasts being squeezed, and the tea pot you’re still holding drops to the table. Time seems to slow to a thick crawl, and you can see the pot is not cracked, but tipped over, hot tea spilling onto the table underneath with abandon.

The sight of the dark brown stain spreading, trickling underneath saucers and cups, leaves you helpless until you force your shaking hands to grab the pot and set it back up on the table.

“I, I--” you start to stutter something. An apology? An explanation? But the constricting ropes and the dawning realization that you have just committed an extensive social faux pas--in front of guests, no less--leaves you helplessly unable to speak.

The guests, for their part, look suitably uncomfortable. The woman whose name you can’t remember is holding onto her cup, saving it from being intercepted by the trickling tea. You don’t know whether their looks are because of your embarrassing display or because they know your husband’s reputation, and feel pity for you. Perhaps a bit of both.

Scaramouche’s voice cuts through the tension, though it does nothing to lessen it.

“I apologize for my wife’s clumsiness,” he says. “I should have realized that she wasn’t up to the apparently complex task of serving tea.” His voice is dripping with condescension, making more heat rise to your cheeks.

Humiliation does not begin to describe what you feel as he gently--public appearances, you think--takes your arm and stands, bringing you with him.

“Perhaps you are ill.” He looks you up and down, faux-concern written all over his face. But you know what he’s really thinking about, as his eyes linger on your chest for a fraction longer than they should.

You swallow hard, and do your best to nod. It doesn’t take any effort to look ashamed at what’s transpired.

“I--I have been feeling unwell,” you say, making sure to project loud enough for the audience he’s curated for you. “I may be too tired.”

He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe your silliness. A silly, silly wife--that’s what you are. Never mind that it’s all his fault. Never mind that he chose to do this to you, and chose to do it in front of guests.

A small, bitter part of you resents the guests for being there at all, resents the fact that they probably know you’re an unwilling ornament to the Harbringer’s obsession but do nothing about it.

But what good does resenting them do, when it won’t change your fate?

He takes your hand and gives it a pat, each touch patronizing to the core.

“Apologize to our guests and go rest. And send someone more capable to clean up your mess.”

You have to apologize for the fact that you spilled tea due to his decision to engage in some perverse bondage in a public fashion. You have to apologize for the fact that he deliberately made you do it, too, knowing how you might react when he pulled the rope.

It’s horrible and humiliating and unfair.

But you do it anyway.

Turning towards the guests, gaze downcast with shame, you force out an apology; keeping your voice soft and melodic and clear, as expected.

Then you retreat as calmly as possible, feeling everyone’s gaze--but especially his--on your back as you leave. You catch the eye of the nearest servant as you make your way back to the bedroom, laying out the quickest version of events and not relishing the look of anxiety that crosses their features at the thought of dealing with Scaramouche after such an apparent social travesty.

But you only have enough energy to consider your own anxieties, so you continue on without thinking more about them.

Walking only seems to make the feeling of constriction worse, and you bite down on your lip as your sensitive nipples begin rubbing against the fabric with every step. It feels good, it feels bad--whatever it is, it’s all too much, and you want nothing more to cut off the ropes and hide until the morning.

Not that you have the courage to risk such an endeavor.

You don’t feel any calmer by the time you reach your shared bedroom, but at least your humiliation is a private one, now. And you can rest, at least until he’s finished for the evening. For a moment, you simply stand still, bringing your arm across your chest and pressing to provide some pressure, some relief, to your sensitive breasts.

There’s an undeniable twist in your stomach when your arms brush against your nipples, and you hate it, and you love it, and you feel just as sick and perverse as he is when you slide a hand inside your clothing and give one aching nipple a pinch. You rub your legs together and ah, there it is--the pleasurable tingling and beginnings of wetness, and well, why not give yourself some pleasure, you think; why not give yourself something good and pleasant before he comes in and ruins everything with whatever sick punishment he’s concocting?

It’s not until you make to curl up on the large bed, eager to relive the tension building inside you, that you see the scroll wrapped up on the pillow. With a sense of justifiable dread building in your stomach, you sit, and unfurl it.

The words are written in Scaramouche’s familiar handwriting:

“Take off your clothes. Lay down and spread your legs on the bed until I return. Don’t touch yourself. I will know if you haven’t followed my instructions.”

Bastard, you think. As if your humiliation today wasn’t strong enough. Your hands go to undue the fastenings keeping your clothes together, and the first hints of bare skin leave you with anticipatory goosebumps. How long would you be expected to be on the bed, presenting yourself for his apparent pleasure?

Bastard, bastard, bastard.

But--well. At least he didn’t tell you to bend over the caning stool again.

#yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes

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asterlark · 3 years

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ok. samwell college of music au. i wrote all four years let's go babey

eric bittle is this lovely southern tenor (sounds kinda like mitch grassi or ben j pierce) who posts covers (& sometimes originals, but always with neutral or no pronouns because he can't post anything that says he or him ☹) on his youtube channel and has major stage fright but is very talented; he also plays ukulele

he got into samwell college of music on a voice scholarship and his dad doesn’t exactly approve but eric was never the 6′2″ masculine football player he wanted anyway so why not go for his dreams

he auditions for the very competitive samwell men’s contemporary chorus (there’s like 20 choirs; chamber choir, jazz choir, a cappella groups (lax bros do a cappella), combined choirs, etc- smcc does contemporary pop/rock music) and while he’s very very nervous and shaky as he auditions, directors hall & murray see a lot of potential in him (with major grumbling from student director jack)

(the rest of this ridiculously long au under the cut)

the group is small, for a chorus, because the point of the group is not a wall of sound but a focus on all of the very talented guys’ voices coming together in these gorgeous harmonies and basically they’re like one of the best choruses on campus and all the male singers want in

so there’s jack zimmermann, who of course eric knows because everyone knows who he is, he’s the son of bob and alicia zimmermann, both incredibly talented and famous musicians, and basically those genes were in his favor because he’s mega fucking talented

(jack was supposed to sign a recording contract to be in a band with his best friend kent parson when he was 17 but something happened between them and the pressure was too much and jack overdosed on something- there’s so many rumors no one knows what’s real- and kent signed solo in LA & went on to win grammys for his albums about a mysterious ex and jack disappeared for a few years to be a counselor at a music camp and reappears at samwell, knocking everyone’s socks off again like he’d never left, except with a renewed vigor and intenseness that freaks everyone out)

jack is a contemporary writing & production major, freaky talented and sings like a modern day frank sinatra, and he plays like 20 instruments and can read music like breathing air and writes songs like if he stopped he’d die; his music is folksy and mournful and he plays all the instruments on his tracks himself- guitar, piano, strings, drums- it sounds like a full band but nope. just jack. he’s intense

“we all get nicknames in this choir,” justin informs eric on his first day, “we’re those kinda guys.” so he’s bitty, which he finds vaguely offensive (bc he’s not that short!) but still cute, & the rest of the group is introduced to him:

“shitty” knight (voice like colyer) is a musical education major and an enigma of a singer with this awesome, earthy, raspy voice that’s really interesting to listen to and a very.... unique style & look; he writes cheesy but shockingly good raps about social justice topics and he will sing-lecture you if you’ve said something offensive (he also plays banjo)

justin “ransom” oluransi is a music business & management major with an angelic voice you can’t help but listen to; he’s sultry and has an incredible range and does runs like nobody’s business (with a voice like daniel caesar or leslie odom jr UGH)

adam “holster” birkholtz is a voice performance major, wants to be on broadway and it’s all he ever goddamn talks about basically, he’s a belter and has a lot of charisma and starpower and he’ll charm the pants off of you within one note; can also play piano and irritates everyone constantly because his regular volume is like a level 11 (voice like the frontman of my brothers and i combined w/ x ambassadors lead singer)

larissa “lardo” duan is at the local art institute because performing arts is not her jam and she’d much rather paint; she’s a barista at annie’s and supervises open mic nights and keeps the annoying choir dudes from driving away all her patrons

“i’m not even in your dumbass choir,” she says when the group gave her her nickname. holster just told her that she was an honorary member and then started sing-shouting a song at her about how good she is

bitty’s first year is hard because he’s talented and he works hard but he shies away when anyone asks him to sing outside the group and like, he can sing to a camera by himself but being on a stage with everyone looking at you and the sole responsibility of the song on your shoulders is terrifying and no thanks

jack does not. understand this. he’s been performing practically since he came out of the womb and he doesn’t really get performance nerves (what he gets is anxiety about how he did after he gets off stage that follows him home and makes it so he can’t sleep) - so he bothers bitty about it constantly like “you just need practice, you just have to sing by yourself a lot and then you’ll get over it” which like.... that’s true but it’s also hella scary and bitty’s like “no thanks!!!!”

but jack’s annoying and intense so he makes bitty do open mic with him every saturday night and it’s going okay and bitty loves his choir and loves his school and these new friends he’s making and he finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them during his second term

then during their spring choral showcase at the end of his freshman year bitty has a solo and he’s worked really hard on it and he’s feeling good- okay he’s completely freaked out but he’s trying to feel good- but when he gets up on stage there’s so many people and the stage lights are so hot on his face and he flips out a little and maybe he passes out from anxiety and stress right on stage and it’s terrible and he’s so embarrassed and ashamed that he ruined their set at the showcase

of course jack blames himself because “we shouldn’t have given you a solo before you were ready, i misjudged it, i’m sorry” - and they all feel kinda bad bc holy fuck they didn’t know his stage fright was that bad like they didn’t know someone could pass out just by being anxious to sing

he practices all the time over the summer and goes to his local open mic at jack’s insistence and it actually helps a lot because instead of a sea of strangers judging him it’s a bunch of people he knows and they’re all smiling at him and when he finishes his song they cheer for him and it boosts his self-confidence a lot

his sophomore year they have three new members- chris ”chowder” chow (voice like ieuan), an excitable music education major with impressive rapping skills, derek "nursey" nurse (frank ocean or leon bridges type), a songwriting major who can also play violin and guitar, and will ”dex” poindexter (like tom west), a production & engineering major who tried out with chowder bc he needed moral support and didn't expect to get in but impressed the directors with his voice

the year’s going pretty good, bitty’s still pretty scared of singing alone but more confident now and the open mic nights with jack haven’t stopped, so he’s getting better. and one night they’re hanging out at annie’s after closing waiting for lardo to be done so they can walk her home, and bitty suggests that jack sing with him one of these nights, and jack says he doesn’t know any of bitty’s songs and bitty says they can write one together half jokingly but then jack is like “yes.” with that Intense Look

SO they get together a couple days later in jack’s room at the house they all live in together (bitty moved in at the beginning of the year after previous smcc member john johnson called him- how’d he get his number?- and told him he could take his room if he wanted), jack with his guitar and bitty with his ukulele, and it’s a little awkward until bitty says jack should play him one of his songs

and, okay, he doesn’t really know what to expect because the only music jack ever released to the public was that one single he did with kent parson when they were 17 so bitty doesn’t even know if he has anything to play him, but he does- he starts playing these soft, sad notes on the guitar and opens his mouth and sings about being lonely and scared and unsure, about false starts and shaky ground and not knowing where you stand with someone, about expectations and lying awake at night and wishing so hard you were someone else, and bitty watches him sing and just kind of... realizes he’s head over heels for this boy and internally Freaks Out a little

he tries to put that aside and they start to write this song, at first it’s weird because jack’s like “all your songs are love songs i can’t really relate to happy love songs” and bitty’s like “listen... i’ve never even had a boyfriend i just write a bunch of sappy love stuff because it’s not about me it’s about whoever’s listening to it, they’re gonna project their own experiences on my music anyway so it doesn’t matter if it’s my real life or not” and jack’s like “alright while fake af that’s smart and i respect you” (what bitty doesn't say is that he writes about what he really wants which is to fall in love & be in a happy relationship)

they say they’re just gonna write this kinda vague sad song but they both secretly write lines about their actual lives so it ends up being really personal and real and raw for the both of them

they sing the song at open mic that saturday and the crowd at annie’s is never that big but they’ve never got a standing ovation here before, and some girl shouts “MAKE AN ALBUM” (it may or may not be lardo) and they both blush furiously and bitty’s like “... that was really nice, jack” and jack’s like “... yeah it was good good job you’re really getting some confidence out there nice work” (bitty: “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT AAAAH”)

around this time jack’s really thinking about what he’s gonna do when he’s done at samwell, talking with his parents and his agent and looking into different record companies and deciding if he wants to sign with anyone or possibly start his own company- the head of a small company called falcon records in rhode island has been talking to him a lot, and jack talks to bitty about how he thinks it’d be nice to start small, and the record exec georgia and the producer marty had both been really nice and welcoming, and bitty’s so happy for him but also just... sad that he won’t be around jack every day after he graduates

THEN at a haus party celebrating their win of a local choral competition, who shows up but none other than pop star kent parson to Ruin The Fun

bitty sees the way jack pales when kent walks in, notices them disappear upstairs together and feels a little sick worrying about jack but chalks it up to the highly alcoholic concoction shitty and lardo had cooked up but nonetheless decides he’s sick of the party and goes up to his room and hears.... a little too much

and YIKES he’s standing right there and kent parson, pop star, two-time grammy winner, is looking a little rumpled and staring right at him and he puts his hat on and clears his throat and snaps at jack- “hey. well. call me if you reconsider. but good luck with rhode island. ...i’m sure that’ll make your parents proud.” and jack’s shaking, and bitty doesn’t know what to do but jack goes back into his room and bitty’s just kind of standing there like What The Fuck

so.... he kind of stews over winter break but tries not to think about it too much and he and jack text a bit and jack tells him to practice and bitty’s like “oh, you” and jack’s like “im serious” and bitty’s like “>:( it’s christmas”

spring semester starts and they're doing well in competitions and they go to semifinals and then finals for a prestigious collegiate choir competition and the pressure is mounting but they all are so optimistic and really feel like they're on the same page and bitty’s confidence is better than ever and then.... they don't win

jack especially takes it very hard, but then he also has signing to worry about, which everyone helps him with and he decides to sign with falcon records and start work on an album after graduation

speaking of graduation, shitty and jack graduate and it's hard for them but harder for bitty who feels like he's losing jack in a way, he knows how intense jack gets when he's making music and it doesn't feel like he'll have any time for bitty anymore so when they say goodbye bitty goes back to the haus and listens to his and jack's song and just cries

but, like in canon, dadbob has words of wisdom to impart and jack has an "oh" moment and races across campus to kiss bitty

they get together and the next few months are spent with jack working nonstop on his album (which tbh, he'd had many of the songs written already so it's mostly recording and producing) and texting bitty constantly and coming to visit him and playing him demos of all the songs

jack also asks bitty if they can record the song they wrote together & have it as a bonus track on his album & bitty says of course, so when jack visits they set up an impromptu studio and record vocals in the guest bedroom and this deeply personal song they wrote before they were ever together means so much more to them now

and bitty is so happy but so scared and sad too because jack is playing him these songs telling him "they're all for you bits, & a lot of them are about you" and he just doesn't know how he's going to keep all this love inside even though it feels like jack's career is at stake

he tries to shove it down and stay strong though, especially since he's now an upperclassman and they're taking on new members- connor "whiskey" whisk (voice like finneas or the male singer in valley), a music business/ management major who seems to hate bitty's guts and tony "tango" tangredi (like chaz cardigan), a jazz composition major who astounds everybody with his endless questions but also his ridiculously impressive composition skills & naturally perfect pitch (he can also play saxophone??)

i want ford in this au so fuck it she is a composition major with dreams to write scores for musicals and she stars training as a barista at annie's (aka training to corral the smcc)

the pressure of it all proves to be a lot and bitty and jack have their hi, honey moment where bitty's like i can't be this deep in the closet!!! and so they tell the smcc and also jack's label that they're together and that eases things a bit

jack's album comes out to much critical acclaim and shouting in the groupchat ("#1 ON ITUNES BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!") and several months later, when smcc has already been eliminated from choral competition in an earlier round, jack is nominated for SEVERAL grammys including best album, song of the year, and best new artist

when the time comes he takes his parents and bitty on the red carpet which, everyone keeps being like "who are you here with jack?" and he's like "my family and my good friend :)" and yes it is awkward

jack wins... all three awards. it's the comeback everyone is stoked to see and when his third win is announced, he and bitty are so elated that they kiss before he goes to accept the award

his speech is basically just "um... wow. thank you. i just kissed my boyfriend on live tv. this is amazing and i'm so humbled. i'd like to thank my boyfriend and georgia and marty and my parents and my friends and my boyfriend"

obviously the press has a FIELD DAY with this but bitty & jack are honestly vibing and so happy that it doesn't matter untiiiillll bitty's mom calls and he has to tell her "mama i'm gay and i'm going on tour with jack this summer okloveyoubye"

the last few months of bitty's junior year pass quickly and he's voted student director which is a huge honor considering how much he struggled with stage fright and confidence & how he'll now be stepping into ransom & holster's shoes

r&h and lardo all graduate (the smcc basically crashes the art school graduation and all scream when lardo gets her diploma lmao), which is a bittersweet occasion and they all do a bit of tearing up

that summer bitty goes on tour across the u.s. & canada with jack and his touring band (snowy is a bassist, tater is a drummer and poots does backing guitar, he also brings nursey to play violin on a few songs) as well as georgia who's there to manage logistics

and tour is so fun & chaotic with many bi and rainbow flags in the audience that end up thrown on stage and draped around jack's neck and they spend so many nights in the bus drinking and laughing and fooling around on the guitars and bitty's uke and exploring new cities bitty has never been to before and it's the freest bitty has felt in a long time

summer ends though, and jack leaves for the uk/europe leg of the tour, and with the new school year brings a few new members- river "bully" bullard (voice like gregory alan isakov), a music therapy major who draws his own cover art for his songs, lukas "louis" landmann (like jr jr), an electronic production and design major with a penchant for EDM, and johnathan "hops" hopper (like keiynan lonsdale), a film scoring major who wants to write music for movies and video games

bitty meets and befriends some of the other student directors- shruti, sd of the women’s contemporary chorus; sharon, sd of the chamber choir; and edgar, sd of jazz ensemble (even chad l., sd of the all-male a cappella group)

senior year passes similarly to the comic; coach visits and sees one of bitty’s competitions, jack comes to madison for christmas, smcc does well in competition and goes to regionals etc

however… bitty keeps putting off and putting off gathering the songs for his senior recital

he has a hard time doing that because he’s so focused on the group and making sure they’re performing well and as they advance in competition, everything else starts to fall away

eventually the rest of the smcc has to lock away his uke and change his youtube password and FORCE him to choose songs for it and start preparing because he cannot graduate without doing this recital and doing well on it

he chooses (of course) a beyonce song, a few of his own songs, an ellie goulding song, and an adele song

with all that his breath hitches and his hands shake before he goes on stage, he does really well and his voice instructor prof atley tears up a little in the audience as does his mom

meanwhile smcc goes to semifinals, then finals, of the national collegiate choral competition they participate in

and i imagine bitty faces somewhat less homophobia in this au because i mean, he’s in the performing arts, but i think it’s still there and he also faces a good amount of classism from richer students and performers who think they’re better because they had the resources and money to be performing professionally from a very young age, and he has been practicing via filming himself on a shitty camcorder and posting it to youtube

but they still get there! and the national finals are fucking HUGE and a big deal and a little overwhelming

bitty’s stage fright is Present because this is the biggest stage and the biggest stakes he's ever had and he has a big solo in one of their songs so if he fucks up, he fucks up a national championship for his whole group and school

luckily though, when he steps on the stage with his best friends and sees his boyfriend and family and smcc alums in the audience and they perform their first song, a high-energy pop medley that always gets the crowd going, everything seems to melt away and it's just him living in this moment and singing his heart out

when it gets to the next song and his solo, he forgets to be nervous and belts it out, getting screams of approval from the audience when he finishes

(dex and nursey do have a duet together that they had to practice for many long nights in the practice rooms alone but that's neither here nor there)

their time on stage seems to last both hours and no time at all and then they're done, the crowd gives them a standing ovation and it's at least 30% r&h & shitty's hooting and hollering and jack's enthusiastic clapping that makes bitty & the others beam with pride

then it's just waiting, giddy and nervous beyond belief in their green room, for the judging to be over

after what feels like forever they're back on stage, arms linked together waiting and hoping for their name to be called and it is, they win and it feels like years have built up to this moment, and bitty tears up because years ago when he was fainting from anxiety at having to perform in front of people he never could've imagined that he'd do this, that he'd be the student director that led them to a championship

they get the trophy and a ridiculous amount of flowers from their loved ones and they all are just in giddy disbelief that this is happening, they're national champs!!! they are the best choir boys in the nation!!

they come home and the rest of the school year passes by so quickly that it's very suddenly graduation and bitty can't believe his college career at samwell is over 😢

(he and ollie and wicky take pictures together, o&w talk about how excited they are to devote full time attention to their band & wedding planning and bitty's just like wait you're gay??)

bitty got plenty of offers from record companies but he likes his freedom of creativity and he has a built in fanbase from doing youtube all these years so he decides to make an album independently (jack helps him produce & master it 🥰)

when bitty's album comes out about a year later, full of bops about being gay and in love and having struggled but come out the other side more confident than ever, it doesn't get any grammy nominations- and he didn't expect or need that.

what it does do is it resonates. it makes the rounds in youtube and queer internet circles; people his age reach out to him saying this is the music they wish they had as a kid and kids reach out to him saying he's a role model and they're so glad to have his music to listen to. his album is written about as an underrated gem that shines with queer brilliance and is sure to start a party when it comes on.

his parents may not fully understand the road he's chosen for himself but they're still so proud and promote the album as hard as any of his loyal fans (especially the one country-inspired song on the album that he wrote and dedicated to them).

and jack, jack who saw this album from its infancy to its release date, who took the film photo that ended up being the album cover, who worked with bitty to make sure his vision was realized exactly how he wanted it to be, is proud beyond words.

jack starts using his semi-abandoned twitter again to tweet "stream [album name]" every day and bitty retweets them sometimes, with just a "this boy. ❤"

and they're happy. they're good. they have come so far and they are reaping the rewards of all the hard work they put in to make the music that they truly love.

the end :)

#check please #omgcp #samwell college of music au #mine #my writing #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #omgcp fic #check please fic #zimbits #uhh idk what else to tag #this fucking thing is like 4.1k words i'm-#i hope you enjoy it (and reblog it!) bc i've been working on this for literal years #i know i'll never actually write it as a longform fic so here's a bullet pt fic instead #pls let me know your thoughts i have so many things to say about this au

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giuliamarcovaldo · 3 years

Text

You’re Okay, Luca

i wanted to read autistic!luca fics but i couldn’t find any. so what did i do? i wrote my own. this is my first time posting fanfic here! so enjoy this little autistic!luca story (with some luberto fluff and angst)

TW: mentions of violent stimming + meltdown

“I was about to have a meltdown and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

Summary: Luca gets over stimulated at a fancy dinner party, and Alberto witnesses Luca having a meltdown for the first time.

I want to say they’re 16-17 in this??

100% sfw because they are children

word count: 1580

also please don’t kill me if the Italian words are wrong i used google translate sksjsjaksk

(also note: i am autistic)

——————

Alberto knew I was autistic. I told him about a year ago, when we first became a thing.

“This doesn’t change anything, Luca. There’s nothing in this world that could make me stop loving you.” His words rang through my head as I felt the onset of a meltdown.

Giulia had invited Alberto and me to a gathering with some of her extended family in Genoa. They were all very nice, and Alberto even made friends with some of them (which was no surprise). That wasn’t the cause of my meltdown. It was the atmosphere. It was a bright, loud fancy dining hall, nearly at full capacity. I was wearing a suit and tie that Giulia’s cousin had let me borrow. The collar was scratching my skin in the worst possible way but I didn’t want to be rude so I sucked it up. That was my first mistake. Between the bright lights, loud conversations and music, jam-packed room, a plethora of smells from foods that I had never heard of, and the suit collar, I could feel it coming.

It was sensory overload at first. I tried stimming subtly. I wasn’t out as autistic to everyone yet and the thought of them judging me for stimming made my anxiety worse. But I had to do something. Squeezing my hands into fists under the table. Chewing the inside of my cheek. Running my fingers through my hair repeatedly. It wasn’t enough, but somehow too much at the same time.

I was getting more and more fidgety. It was becoming harder to mask. Would it be rude to just get up and leave without saying anything? Probably. I couldn’t move anyway. I was frozen in my seat. My facial expressions were almost completely gone at this point, along with my ability to speak. Alberto noticed that something was wrong.

“Luca, hey, are you alright?” I couldn’t get the words “no, I feel like I’m about to explode into a violently stimming disaster if I don’t get out of here right now but I can’t move and I feel helpless” out of my mouth so I just nodded and gave him a small, unconvincing smile. I didn’t want to burden Alberto while he was having such a good time. I knew it was ridiculous to think that Alberto would mind helping me calm down, but my brain wouldn’t quit telling me otherwise.

Silenzio, Bruno. Silenzio, Bruno. Silenzio, Bruno. It wasn’t working.

Alberto didn’t look convinced. He knew me too well. Ever since I told him I was autistic he tried his best to make sure I was as comfortable as possible in every situation. I loved him for that but I hated myself for it. It’s like I always need to be babysat and I hate it. I know that he loves me so why do I feel so guilty?

My intrusive thoughts running through my mind was the final straw. It was all too much. Alberto’s face looked more concerned as each moment passed. He was about to witness me having a meltdown for the first time since we met. I didn’t know if I was ready for that type of vulnerability but I didn’t really have a choice. I was about to have a meltdown and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Luca, we’re going to go some place quiet, okay?”

I shook my head no. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. It had gone from sensory overload, to shutdown, to a full-blown meltdown. I couldn’t hold back my stims anymore. I started hitting my head with my fists and pulling at my hair. Tears rolled down my face uncontrollably, exposing my green-blue scales.

Perfecto.

I didn’t know which was worse: violently and uncontrollably stimming in front of everyone, or unintentionally outing myself as a sea monster. They might have been tied. Most of the guests were too into their conversations to notice the autistic sea monster having a meltdown next to them but the few who did notice started to pass glances and whisper amongst themselves.

“Luca, Luca, you’re okay. I know you don’t like anyone touching you when you’re in sensory overload but I’m going to help you get out of here, okay?”

Alberto helped me get up from the table and escorted me out of the dining room, using his suit jacket to cover my face so no one would see my scales, but being careful to not let it touch my face. We made our way to a long hallway off of the lobby. Alberto sat me down on the ground and flipped the hallway light switch off. Light from the lobby trailed into the hallway but didn’t reach us at the end.

I was out of the environment but still at the height of my meltdown. Tears were still coming from my eyes. I continued to tug at my hair while I rocked back and forth. I couldn’t vocalize anything except for non verbal sounds. I felt so helpless, so defeated, so ashamed.

Alberto tried to redirect my violent stims, to no avail. I’m sure he felt helpless too. I wanted to stop but I couldn’t. And I felt bad that Alberto couldn’t help that.

Alberto sat a few feet away from me, probably resisting the urge to pull me into a hug.

“I’ll just sit with you, okay? You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.” Alberto reassured me that he wasn’t leaving. My perception of time isn’t that great but it felt like at least 45 minutes before I started to come down. Still there, like he said he would be, Alberto let out a deep shaky breath. I hadn’t looked at him the entire time because I was too embarrassed that he had to see all of that. When I finally did glance up at him, I notice two trails of purple scales down his cheeks. Knowing he had cried hurt me even more.

“Are you feeling better?” I was still nonverbal and rocking back and forth but my violent stims had passed. I opened my left hand flat and tapped it with my right index finger.

“Oh! Right,” Alberto pulled a pen and pad from my jacket, which he had helped me remove from my body earlier in my meltdown. He slid them across the floor and anxiously waited for me to write my response.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

Alberto’s face changed as he read what I had written. His green eyes looked sadder when they met my gaze. I could feel my tears starting to well up again.

“No, no, Luca, mio amore, please don’t feel bad. I should have checked on you earlier than I did. I got a little lost with everything going on in there. I’m sorry that I didn’t check up on you sooner...” Alberto was very protective of me. I know that the thought of me suffering while he didn’t know was absolutely crushing him. But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t mine. It wasn’t anybody’s. I was starting to think rationally again. I shouldn’t feel sorry for having meltdowns, for being autistic, for being myself. But I should have spoken up when I started to feel uncomfortable. That’s something I need to work on, and I know I can do it as long as Alberto is with me. And he always will be.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” I know Alberto was dying to physically comfort me. It was his love language. I nodded my head yes and gave him a warm smile. He crawled over to me and I opened my arms to embrace him. I listened to his steadying heartbeat while he whispered affirmations to me and gently rubbed my back. Warm tears started to fall down my face.

God, I love this boy so much.

“Bontà, there you two are! I’ve been looking everywhere! What happ-“ Giulia’s voice got closer as she made her way down the hallway.

“Oh no, Luca... mi dispiace... I didn’t know you were- when did- where-“ She crouches down next to the two of us. Giulia, also being autistic, could tell I was in post-meltdown. She slaps her palm to her forehead and curses herself.

“Of course! I should have been more aware about- why didn’t I- are you okay?”

“Giulia,” Alberto places his hand on her shoulder. “he’s alright. Nothing that happened is your fault. Or... mine for that matter. We’re alright.”

“Can I get you guys something? A glass of water?”

I nod my head yes.

“Water sounds good, grazie, little sis.” Alberto and Giulia exchange smiles, then she leaves down the hallway, her red curls bouncing behind her.

“Luca,” Alberto cups my cheek in his hand, wiping away my tears with his thumb.

“I love you, okay? I love you so, so much. Nothing is going to change that. Please, don’t ever feel like an inconvenience. It hurts to see you like that, and I know it hurts to experience it. Please, tell me next time, Okay?”

I didn’t even need to tell him that I felt like an inconvenience. He just knew. Like I said, he knows me too well. I nod my head, and pull him back into an embrace. Alberto combs his fingers through my hair, getting rid of the tangles that I made in it earlier.

I feel lighter. I feel safe to be myself. I feel more loved than ever.

——————

that’s it! my first fic! a lot of this is me projecting onto luca (sksakdjsjjsk) but i had a lot of fun writing it! feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism. likes and reblogs appreciated!! :)

#luca #pixar luca #luca paguro #alberto scorfano #giulia marcovaldo #autistic!luca #luberto #mine #my writing

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hoodieofholland · 3 years

Note

Here is an ideia for a smut concept: Tom as been very stressed with work and one day he and the reader are going at it and he can't come and feels really bad and embaressed and the reader makes him feel better about it. Write it only if you feel comfortable about it of course. I love your fics by the way.

A/n: loved this concept so much, hope you like it. Got a bit long again lol ❤️ thanks for your comment :)

Masterlist Request/tell me your thoughts on this!!

NSFW content bellow

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, fingering (f rec), cockwarming, bit of angst, unprotected sex (pls use protection!!)

"Tom, I'm putting your bag in the car, okay? Have you got everything you need?", you shout as you crossed the corridor of you and Tom's bedroom with his bag in your hand. Both of you were in your way to the studios, Tom has been shooting Spider-Man 3 for a while now. With busy schedules, you two barely had the the time neither the energy to spend some time alone, so whenever you had a break from your work, you'd take the opportunity to make him company in his work. Right now, you were running out of time to make it to the studios in the right time, as you and Tom drifted in deep sleep and almost lost your time.

Tom didn't answer from the bedroom, and you decide to pop your head through the open door to check on him. "Hey, did you hear- Tom?"

You look at you boyfriend, who's currently sitting on the edge of your bed, elbows prompted over his knees and staring at the floor with nothing but a sad expression on his face.

"Tom? Is everything alright?" You ask softly as you drop the bag on the floor and make your way to him.

He glanced back at you with a sorry look, eyes dropping to the floor again as you kneel down and touch his thigh. "What's going on, baby? What happened?"

He sighed, brushing his hand over his face and pulling his hair a little. "I don't think- I don't think I can go today, y/n".

Confused, you furrow and straight your back to take a better look at him.

"How come?", you put your hand on his forehead as to check his temperature, a worried look on your face. "Are you sick? You feeling something-"

"No, darling, it's not that", he sighs impatiently. "I'm sorry, it's just that... I don't feel good, y'know? I'm tired. Like, really exhausted".

You blink a few times, trying to catch what he was saying, though you already new what it was all about.

You've seen Tom work really hard throughout the last three years, filming and being involved with a lot of projects. You always felt so proud of him, but at same time worried about how overwhelmed he might feel. You simply knew this day could come, and now there were you, taking a seat beside him and brushing his hair out of his face to reassure him.

"You've been working a lot, Tom". You say in a low and careful voice. "It's absolutely understandable that you feel tired".

Tom sighs and throws his body back on the mattress.

"Okay, I just need to... take a large cup of tea. Do you think you can get me, love? I promise I'll be down in five minutes, I don't think they'd be truly mad if I got twenty minutes later-"

"No, Tom", you sigh, climbing up on bed to lay beside him. Resting a hand over his chest, you look up at him. "You're not going today, okay? We staying home and taking a break".

Tom scoffed. "I can't just skip job, y/n", he sighed.

"Tom, be honest with me" you propped your elbow on the mattress and support your head on your hand. "We were about to head out for, like, half an hour ago and you can't seem to get out of bed yet. You're tired, it's fine. I'll call the team and tell them that you don't feel so good".

Tom grimaces and rub his hand over his cheeks. "That's not professional of me. I- I have a contract, I have people that are counting on me- I have you here, and it wasn't even your job to follow and help me while I'm working, but you're still here and I feel so stupid for being such a pussy and not being able to-"

"Thomas Stanley", you say sternly, lifting your body to sit on bed. "Don't you dare saying it again. Baby, you're so hardworking. There's no doubt in anyone's head about how dedicated you are and how strenuous you get with everything you're involved with. But you're human, Tom, and you're exhausted. There's no need to be ashamed of it".

Tom sniffs, pressing his nose with two fingers as he tries to gather his composure. He wasn't feeling like easing himself about it and you could feel it by the way he closed his eyes tightly.

"Okay, that's what is going to happen", you say, getting up from bed and clapping your hands together with determination. "I'm gonna call the directors, gonna say that you don't feel good and tell them you're sorry about it, but that they'll need to postpone the filming. Then I'm gonna run you a bath just how you like it and we're gonna order dinner, maybe some pizza. What do you think?"

Tom gumbled, feeling vexed that he couldn't argue with you, because you were right - there was no way he could go to work today. He knew if he tried to, he'd do a shitty job and feel even worse that he'd need to waste everyone's time again to redo it.

So he silently nodded, and you give him a small softly smile.

After calling the studio and telling them about Tom, you filled the bathtub with a warm water and his favorite bubbles.

When everything was ready, you called him out from the bathroom and reassured him some more, kissing his cheek as you gave him time to undress and get in the tub.

"I'm not getting in here without you", he stated, pulling his shirt off his head, a kind smile on his face. You bite your lips as you watch he taking his jeans off, his white boxers beautifully on display for you.

"It's supposed that you relax there. It's gonna be tighter if I get in with you, and you won't be able to spread out".

Tom snorts and gives you a smug smile. In no time, he grabs your waist and pulls you closer to his chest. "No way I'm buying that, love", then his feature turns goofy all of a sudden. "C'mon, I need you there with me. Hold you real tight so I can relax a little, eh?"

You laugh at his attempt and end up giving up, shoving his chest playfully to pull him away enough to take out your clothes.

Tom gets rid of his boxers, entering the bathtub next. Whilst, you are taking off your jeans. "You still coming?", he teases, eyeing you shamelessly. "Hurry up, darling, the water is amazing".

You poke your tongue out and giggle when get completely naked, testing the water temperature before entering it slowly. When you were about to sit in the opposite seat, in front of Tom, he shook his head and took your hand, signaling for you to come closer. “You’re too far. C’mere”.

Narrowing your eyes in a little protest, you did as he asked, not being able to turn down the offer to sit with your back pressed against his chest.

“You were supposed to be relaxed, Tom”.

“Well”, he wrapped his arms around you, hugging your body in the most comfy way possible. “How am I supposed to relax when my girl is right on the other side and not this close to me? See? Much better now”, he lowered his head to rest in the crock of you neck and you giggle for the tingle his breathe sent over your wet skin.

“You relaxed now?” You ask as your hands play dismissively with the bubbles in the water.

“Yeah”. He takes a few seconds to answer, and when he does, you can’t seem to believe in his words.

You turn your head to look at him, a furrow on your face. “Tom...”, you say in a concerned yet stern tone. “What’s up?”

He sighs and lifts his head from your neck. Chewing on his lips lightly, he looks at you. “I still feel kinda guilty. I mean, I was supposed to be working right now, and instead I’m taking a bath with you... It kinda of- embarrass me”, he confess, lowing his eyes to the water, a light pink flush on his cheeks.

You pout, feeling bad that he was still with that thought on his mind. Turning your body just enough to hold his face on your hands, you caress a finger on the smooth skin of his cheeks. “Tom, you shouldn’t be embarrassed for taking care of yourself. You’re just taking a day off, it’s not that big of a deal. No one would want you to have a breakdown in order to get work done, alright? Look at me”, you ask softly and he does so. “I’m so fucking proud of you, my love. Should never doubt that”.

His face lightens up a bit and you smile. “Okay?”

His eyes wander through your face, a bright shine on it as he seems to save every part of it. “Yeah. Thank you, darling”.

“Alright”, you smile wider. “Now, if you mind, I’d like to enjoy my bath”.

He laughs and holds you tighter, pressing his forehead to yours. “What would I do without you, my sweet girl?”

“Probably not much”, you joke, and he chuckles.

His voice is low and his face is centimeters away from yours. Two of his slender fingers rest on you chin as he brings you closer. “C’mere”.

It’s a matter of seconds until your lips as touching in a slow, sweet and soft kiss. It’s calming and relaxing, and you feel yourself melting in his arms. Tom parts his lips, and so do you, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and touch yours seductively. Your hand goes straight to his neck, fingers curling up in his hair to bring him closer, deepening the kiss.

When he pulls away, his hands are on your waist, smoothing the bare skin. “Love you so much, darling”, he murmurs. “You’re just fucking perfect”.

You smile before bringing him to kiss you again. “Love you too, Tommy. So, so much”.

His lips are a little rougher now, tongues waging a battle as both of you get eager with the touching. You can feel his member pressed against your back getting hard, just in perfect sync with your pulsing heat, starting to claim for some sort of attention.

"Shit, that's relaxing", he says through kisses and you giggle, turning your body around to have a better angle. "Love these lips".

"Yeah?", you whimper as his mouth traces a new path, slowly going down your neck.

"Yeah" he breaths over the wet spot on your sensitive skin, and you shudder. "Love kissing your neck too. The way you get all excited 'bout it. Love how you get goosebumps over it. Always so responsive to me".

"You make me feel good, Tommy" you breath out, eyes closed as you enjoyed the moment.

His lips stops right on the edge of your shoulder, biting it slightly as a smirk makes its way to his face. When he's facing you again, you can tell his eyes are darker.

"Wanna make me relax, love?" He asks, voice husky. You nod once, fingers tightening on his hair.

"Tell me what can I do, Tommy?" You ask lowly, brushing your nose over his, though you knew the answer already.

Tom brings one hand to lay flat on your ass, squeezing it, while the other rested on your back. The tip of his tongue traces a wet path over your lower lip. "Ride me, darling, would you? Wanna feel you around me, this close".

"Mmm", you bite your lip to refrain a moan as you nod. You turn your body completely now, facing him, legs positioned to straddle him. He was hard already, his length pressed against his abs, the tip red and needy for you.

Tom's hand slides down your side from your back to your core, feeling your wetness and you buck your hips against his slender fingers. "Gonna prepare you for me, love".

He presses two fingers over your clit, rubbing it delicately in smooth circles as he watched your face draw all the pleasure. Though the feeling of him collecting your arousal to lead his fingers through your slit was already overtaking, you knew you wanted something else, so you touched his arm and pulled it away from you, taking his cock on your free hand.

"I want you now, baby. No foreplay".

He smirks lazily and helps you straighten your back, as you pumped him a few times, thumb caressing his tip and spreading the pre-cum. He growls, and you can see the veins on his neck outlining with the pleasure.

His grip on your ass gets more firm and you smile smugly as you position his cock right in your entrance. You brush it from your folds to your clit, teasing both of you a bit, before sinking down on him slowly. Tom closes his eyes at the sensation of your walls holding him tightly, coursing by every bit of his length that enters you.

You moan as soon as you feel him completely inside of you, walls adjusting to the stretch he gave you. Tom brings you closer, your boobs now pressed against his chest as both of you breath heavily.

“Shit”, he says. “So tight”, with the feeling of his teeth sinking on the skin of your shoulder, you buck your hips forward, to create some kind of friction, but Tom stops you right there. “Can we stay like this for a while?”

You look at him, hands grabbing his hair softly. “You don’t want me to move?”, you bite your lips when he nods, hands caressing your back up and down.

“Yeah. Wanna feel close to you and just-“ he breaths sharply and a deep groan comes through his throat at the feeling of your involuntary clenching, “just take it slow. Fuck, you’re gonna make it hard for me”.

You giggle and press your forehead to his. “I’ll behave”, you let out a heavy sigh. “You feel so good inside me. So deep”.

Tom takes the moment to kiss you, tongue slowly invading your mouth, in a messed way, as both of you released grunts and whines for the feeling of having each other so connected.

"You're so good to me, darling", he says when you pull apart, thumb tracing your puffy lips. You shudder at the feeling of his cock throbbing inside of you, closing your eyes briefly. "My gorgeous girl, taking such good care of me. Feels so snug around me, love".

You pant, biting hard in your lip as you find it extremely difficult not to move when your pussy clench at the sound of his words.

"Tommy, can't take it-" you breath out.

He squeezes your ass firmly, assaulting your neck with sloppy kisses. “Just a little more, pretty girl. Know you can”.

You moan when his lips connect with the sensitive skin bellow your ear.

“Shit”, you throw your head back. “Please, Tom”.

You can feel his smug smirk against your skin and want to slap him for that, but all is forgotten when he say, “It’s okay, darling, you can move now”.

You take it as your sign to move your hips up slowly, the friction getting more intense from the previous position. Your walls are sensitive, you can feel the wetness making it easier for you to move. “Fuck” you curse, gripping on his shoulders for dear life.

Tom tugged at your waist, helping you to stead a pace, when you sink down on him again. You started slow, just how you two felt like. His hands kept running on your skin, his mouth was glue to your ears, whispering motivating words to you.

“You’re so beautiful, riding me like this”

“Taking me so well”

“Gonna make me cum so hard”

His words were your fuel, and his touching ignited a fire inside of you. Soon, you were bouncing on top of him, water splashing everywhere, but you couldn’t care less about the mess on the floor. All you could focus about was the pleasure on Tom’s face, the way he gripped tight on your waist every time you swirled your hips and the need you had to chase your release.

“Fuck, Tom, I’m so close”, you moaned, hiding your face in the crock of your neck. You were growing tired, but still managed to keep moving. Noticing that you slowed down, Tom holds your hip and starts to buck his to meet with yours, his tip brushing on a special spot inside of you.

Your breathes were heavy, the sounds of the water among with skin slapping were all too much for you to take. Your rigid nipples were brushing against his toned chest, making you feel him everywhere. You moaned his name, clenching as your legs trembled. You knew you couldn’t last much longer.

“That’s it, baby” Tom panted, mouth on your ear as he bites your lobe. “C’mon, cum on my cock”.

And as easy as his command, you fell apart. The shocks ran through your body as Tom still pounded in you, chasing his release, following right after yours. Your walls clenched around him, riding both of you out of the recent orgasm.

A panting mess, the two of you stayed still, hugged tight on each other’s arms, catching your breath. You feel his length softening inside of you, and when you climb out of him, you feel his cum dripping out of your pussy too.

Tom had that light pink on his cheek, from the effort, and a beautiful brightness on his eyes. You smiled at him, who did the same and stretched his arms to reach you, holding your body just like when you entered the bathtub.

As he kissed the top of your head, you could hear his breathing still heavy and relaxed into his arms. After a few minutes of silence, just enjoying each other’s warmth, Tom speaks.

“Thank you, darling”, his words were soft, just like the brushing of the tip of his fingers on your face. “I mean, not for this”, he chuckled, and then sighed. “But for really taking care of me. You’re always so understanding”.

You turn your head and give him a sweet smile, full of the love you shared with the man of your life. “That’s because I love you, Tommy. And you don’t have to thank me for that”.

“I love you too, sweetheart. A lot”. He pressed a kiss to your lips.

Turning your soft smile into a smirk, you add, “Are you feeling more relaxed now, though?”

He laughs and kiss your cheek. “Absolutely”, licking his lips, he watches you with bight eyes. “But I’d love to repeat the relaxation session”.

…………………

Taglist: (add yourself to my taglist here)

@pinkrockstar19 @onyourgoddamnleft @spideyspeaches @miraclesoflove @zspideyy

#tom x reader #tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom holland imagines #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #request #anon #boyfriend!tom #Tom smut

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the-tiniest-one · 3 years

Text

Parenting Rock Lee with Might Guy :)

Note:@xemaliahrssx here ya go! I hope it tastes just like you dreamed it would!

Sitting at the kitchen table, watching Guy and Lee devour the dinner you made, had you feeling nostalgic... You watched with your head rested on your hand. It was the little family moments that you appreciated more than anything else these days. "Yeah! and then I caught him in a cross block!" Lee said, describing their latest mission, his mouth full of food.

"Haha yes yes (y/n) you should have been there, our Rock Lee is becoming a real force to be reckoned with, much like his handsome sensei" Guy said with a wink in your direction.

"Handsome indeed" you said with a grin.

Thinking back to the days when you were a little more of a workaholic made you laugh. If you told your younger-self all those years ago that you would be Konoha's worst helicopter parent in just a few years, you'd have never believed it. Guy was a perfect match for you in that regard. You two were a well oiled machine when it came to parenting.

While Lee could do no wrong in your eyes, Guy was a bit heavy handed in his discipline of Lee's skills as a shinobi. You kissed every bruise and scrape, while Guy was teaching him how to prevent them in the first place.

Rock Lee has had more than his fair share of the short-end-of-the- shit-stick his entire life. BUT One could be forgiven for not recognizing the true level of hardship the boy has overcome in his short tenure as a shinobi. Lee is a true underdog.

Lucky for him, you've always been a bit of a sucker for an underdog.

You thought back to those early days......

Even before Lee evolved to a mini version of your childhood crush, you felt the need to protect him. Watching him fumble and practice jutsu in vain day after day.....early in the morning and into the night. You would watch him from a distance while training your own team. One early morning, you decided to check in on the boy with long black hair. He kicked at a post, counting off as you looked on...10....11.....12.....his kicks were weak even for his young age. As he got closer to 50 he fell back, overwhelmed by the pain of repetitively beating his shins into the wood without chakra to safeguard his bones.

Clearly angry at his situation, the thought occurred to you that maybe he wasn't using chakra because he couldn't....the boy had tears streaming from his eyes. It broke your heart to watch a kid who couldn't be more than 10, cursing his life.

"A kid working that hard shouldn't have to feel that defeated..." you said to yourself.

You felt conflicted. Torn between wanting to step in and takeover his training...but feeling the weight of responsibility that would come with encouraging a child to chase a pipedream that would only lead to disappointment. You knew all too well what happens to weak ninja. The reality was that it would be cruel to encourage the boy to peruse a life as dangerous as that of a shinobi. You were no slouch when it came to taijutsu but ninjas are able to compete with one another because of the advantages that come with developing kakai genki.

Could a boy with no use of chakra stand a chance against the generations of those families of ninja who use fearsome jutsu and tactics like lightning...wind....wood or even hereditary gifts like the dreaded sharingan or byakugen? The real answer was sad and harsh. No. He couldn't.

You wouldn't be so irresponsible as to tell the boy he could be anything but a failure.

If he perused that path, he would die young.

So you stood back, restraining the desire to comfort and nurture the little boy out of what you told yourself was mercy. Day after day, week after week....you watched on....until it became too much. You couldn't sleep anymore, couldn't function on missions the same way. Always thinking back to him still out at those training grounds.....always struggling.

....

One morning it was pouring rain. You called off training that day for your team and headed out to the place you knew he would be. He was there of course. He was doing his best to catch a cold while practicing hand signs to no avail. After watching him for a few minutes you finally asked, "What's your name kid?" speaking loud to project over the rain. Startled he looked up to where you stood, perched on a post a few feat away. "I...Im Rock Lee" he said timidly. You laughed at his shy but sweet face, "Im y/n" you said.

"Your kicks look like they could use some work", holding your palm about chest high, to show him where his blow should be landing. The boy grimaced...clearly angry with his lack of direction in training. You laughed and the both of you worked on his kicks for the duration of the morning.

"I think you'll be a splendid ninja someday" you said as you offered him a bit of lunch you packed. The boy looked up at you with the most heartbreaking fear in his eyes, "I can't use chakra" Lee said barley above a whisper, clearly ashamed to tell you the truth.

You ruffled his hair. "Look kid, life is shitty sometimes. But I can tell you are someone who will never quit. No matter the odds, and that is something worth more than all the talent in the world." He instantly smiled up at you, melting your heart for what would be the first of a million times. Laughing and showing you also first time you saw that shiny smile that you would come to love more that anything on earth.

From then on he was your responsibility. Your chest burned with pride in his concrete determination. Feeling instantly the protective burn and feral instinct to insulate him from anything that would hurt him.

....

It was about a year later when things evolved. You and Lee had become close. He, being an orphan as you found out he was, had taken your invitation to live in your spare bedroom. It wasn't long before you were nagging him to be sure and eat breakfast before class, take baths every night. You were often hearing your mothers voice echo in your own as you guided the child to a structure he lacked.

You even went to his parent meetings at the Academy, much to the surprise of Iruka (because he himself was 2 years older than you and had known you since you were smol) laughed when you asked to see Lee's reports.

----

Then one hot summer day you got the order... your team was dispatched on your first extended mission with your new genin. 3 months on a C rank mission to Suna. Your heart sank as you remembered Lee's graduation exam was in just a few days. Before you left, you kissed his forehead and promised a tearful Lee who had become just as attached as you over the last year, that would bring him back a graduation present.

You just knew he would finally pass.

....

Returning to the village near midnight you couldn't wait to see Lee. After giving report to Lord Third, you quickly made your way home. Quietly cracking the door to his bedroom, you peaked in to see his sweet little face. The snoring boy looked peaceful.

"He cut his hair?" you thought puzzled..."he must have done it himself, it looks a little odd." You laughed at the thought of him using a bowl to cut his hair.

Then your eyes traveled to the headband still around his forehead, "He passed!!!" you quietly celebrated, careful not to wake him up. You placed the promised gift on his dresser, a brand-new set of num-chuks you'd had made in Suna.

The next morning you were up before sunrise making a celebratory breakfast when an extreme round of knocking came from the apartment's front door.

You quickly answered, immediately flustered when on the other side was none other than Might Guy....the same Guy you'd had the hots for over a decade.

"Y/N!, I must have the wrong address! I was looking for one of my students!" Guy said in his familiar boisterous cadence. Laughing nervously you started to respond, when behind you Lee pushed his way through the doorframe. Your eyes widened at the sight.

The haircut made sense now, Lee stood side by side with his sensei. He was wearing Guy's jumpsuit... they could have been father and son.

Looking at the two of them standing side by side in front of you for the first time gave you the most jarring sense of dejavu.

"Guy sensei! Look what Y/N brought me from her most dangerous mission!" Lee brandished the weapon, beaming up at his teacher who laughed and winked in your direction. "Ah, a great choice! Only the most skilled ninja know how to use such a fine weapon! We must enlighten you at once Lee my boy!" With that the handsome jonin and your sweet Rock Lee were off to train.

You had known Guy since he was still struggling to gain entrance to the Academy, you knew that the man who radiated confidence today, only earned that ability through blood, sweat, and tears.

You apprehensively accepted that Might Guy was a good match to be Lee's sensei.

"Be careful!" you called, more than a little apprehensive at the thought of your sweet baby boy training with such an admittedly impulsive man. Feeling a small tug of sadness as you watched the two of them disappear down the street.

"Lee's getting tall..." you though as you closed the door.

....

Over the next few years Lee had grown into a strong young man. You felt such extreme pride in everything he did. Even though you being in your mid-twenties were not nearly old enough to be Lee's mother, he had taken to occasionally calling you mom.

Lee was never embarrassed of you as he grew into a teen like some of the other kids his age. He was always just as willing to give you a hug before a mission as the day you met him.

It would be a lie to say that the relationship you and Guy shared hadn't also matured along the way. Although you weren't Lee's biological parents, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you were. Everything you had admired about Guy, his hot-bloodedness, his devotion to youthful perseverance, his love of his village had been passed down to your surrogate son.

It was only natural that you and Guy would become a team in raising Rock Lee. Over time after a few years of dinners, training sessions, birthdays, holidays etc...Guy decided to propose to you.

It was a literal dream come true. You couldn't say yes fast enough. But as required when two shinobi become married, when you went to sign the paperwork to make your marriage official, requesting a stamp of approval from Lady Tsunade....she extended to you a folder with a second set of forms.

Guy beamed as you read the contents. Adoption papers with Lee's name printed at the top in bold.

"He will always be our son. Since we are making it official... why not add one more?" Guy said with a laugh. The tears began welling in your eyes. "He's 17" you laughed, "I love you" is all you could think to say in response to the most kind gesture you have ever witnessed.

Guy held his trademark thumbs up high as he replied, "Lee will always need his mom, no matter how big he gets!" His words like music to your heart...

You'd never felt so complete as you walked hand in hand with Guy, on your way home to surprise your sweet son with the news.

Upon telling Lee what the two of you had done, he looked from the papers back to you. Confusion spread across the sweet ravenette's features. "But I do not understand" Lee said with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Have you not always been my mom?"

The innocent look in his eye and profound sincerity in his voice made tears well in your eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day. You laughed and swept he and Guy into a hug that didn't last long enough. "What's for dinner?" the two men asked in unison and in that moment you knew you were the luckiest person in the world.

#rock lee #might guy x you #might guy relationship #naruto imagines #naruto #naruto fanfiction #might gai imagine #might guy fanfiction #rock lee fanfiction #parenting with maito #rock lee's mom #maito guy #rock lee imagines #rock lee x y/n #team gai

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rainbowsky · 3 years

Note

Another delicate thing about fake ships. (I'm not talking about our YiZhan. They are real. For better or worse certain (dangerous) evidence have reached public eyes. We all know it, many have seen it). But certain ppl new to c dramas might not know that actor CP is just part of the show. I didn't know when I started. Then those people invest a lot of time $ and emotion into that CP believing it's real. And get the rug pulled from under. It's unfair to those naive ppl and it harms certain ppl. Like it or not some get really invested. To hurt them is cruel and triggering. It can feel like rejection and I really wish actors wouldn't partake in this. To profit off ppl's beliefs is cruel. Again. NOT yizhan, two men in a very real situation.

These are in reference to a previous post. More under cut.

Discussion of fake ships, fandom rivalries and insecurities around whether BJYXSZD.

Anonymous asked:

Semi agree that I don't follow other CP. but when others do fake cp and claim "evidence" even when it is flimsy. It makes me question myself and I hate that. There's so much hard evidence for xz and web. When others have "evidence" too and it seems so forced and fake, not to mention copied from yizhan, idk it makes me feel bad. Like maybe we're all crazy. I wish other dramas didn't do that. Be real. Don't fake it. The other men have gf's. It's just derivative and I think that's why ppl get offended. Web and xz seem serious about their life together and for others to profit of their realness... It just makes me question it. If we have evidence and those fans truly believe they do too... Either we are all right, or maybe we are all wrong. And I hate to deny web and xz. So it's hurtful. I hope someone can understand my feelings.

Sorry for the grouping of messages but I don't want to give this too much airtime because it can lead to hurt feelings from people who support other ships, and because this isn't what my blog is about. It's about GG and DD.

I try not to judge anyone harshly when it comes to fan service and CP marketing. It's a cutthroat industry and I think we can all see that. But I feel that making a CP seem real just to profit off of people for a while and then breaking their hearts... it's not something I personally feel comfortable with. It strikes me as unnecessarily cruel.

However, we don't know what's in people's contracts so we should be careful about judging anyone or being nasty. In the end people are just doing their jobs, whether we like it or not. And some fans enjoy it. Live and let live.

As for other actors being 'derivative' of GGDD, I completely disagree. It's not like GG and DD invented the CP. The whole concept was there long before them, and will likely be there long after. Even in cases where there were similarities to what GG and DD did, I don't think it's something to get worked up about. We don't own GG and DD's interactions as some sort of IP we need to protect.

I said this back when people were fan fighting over the BL CPs, that it's ridiculous and awful to fight over something like this. We should all be on the same side. BL stories are not easy to create or air in China - we all know that more now than we did back then - and the more BL stories that get aired, the better for everyone. The better for the market, the better for fans, the better for queer people too.

History has shown that cultural shifts can lead to legislative shifts. As queer stories become more mainstream, the demand for rights - and the public's appetite for seeing those rights observed - becomes stronger, and positive change happens. It is, in fact, likely a big part of why these types of stories are being cracked down on. Some people don't want that change.

If we care about these issues we would do well to support all BL projects and everyone who is willing to stick their neck out and make those projects happen, not just our particular biases.

Not only that, but fan wars are harmful to GG and DD, harmful to any celebrity whose fans are 'out of control'. I have been preaching this for a couple of years now, but here we are in 2021 and what have we seen? Artists being cracked down on for the behavior of their fans. Rules coming out to clearly state this, hinting at harsh penalties.

So please, people - take it to heart. There is no war that you don't CHOOSE to create. This isn't a competition. There is room for everyone to have fun, be happy and enjoy their fandoms in whatever way they choose.

Everyone has the right to their perspective. I said this the other day. No one is obligated to believe BJYXSZD, and similarly, no one is obligated to disagree or debunk. If people are enjoying their CP, that's their right. Let's not get smug and dickish about things. We aren't in competition.

One other thing I want to add: We should be willing to question ourselves, question our evidence and re-evaluate things from time to time. It's just part of being a rational human. Insecurity about what is 'real' and what isn't - all of this is pointless and IMNSHO, unhealthy.

Bad feelings should never make us into bad people. Bad feelings should never make us do or say bad things.

Insecurity is understandable at times. We're all human. But I urge fans to try not to take everything so personally, and to not get our identities as human beings wrapped up in whether BJYXSZD.

Whether GG or DD are real or not - this doesn't make me crazy or stupid or naive. I believe based on the evidence I have. If I turn out to be wrong about it - ME, who has this blog and spends an enormous amount of time on GGDD - if it turns out to all be wrong, my life won't shatter. I won't curl up in an embarrassed ball and die.

I get a hell of a lot of enjoyment out of this fandom. That enjoyment is real. My love for GGDD is real. I am a person in the world. I don't live and die over whether BJYXSZD. Neither should any of you.

My love for GGDD doesn't come from them, it comes from me. It's not about them, it's about me. It's about my heart and my appetite for sweetness and connection. It's about my politics and what I stand for and support. It's about everything inside me.

If their relationship was proved to be fake, or if it was to end, that wouldn't change a thing for me. I would still be the same person with the same heart. I would still have the same values and drives. I might be sad, of course, or even hurt a bit depending on the circumstances, but it wouldn't change who I am or what I'm about.

I will never be ashamed of loving someone. I will never be ashamed of sharing my heart or letting something touch my heart.

I won't be taking any more asks on this subject unless they bring a substantially fresh perspective that hasn't already been expressed. I apologize in advance if you send me something that I don't reply to/post. This is just a boundary I have with asks like this.

#love not war #fan service #ask

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themountainsays · 2 years

Note

I wonder how Brulores would work in an AU where the triplets used to have a thing going on. Like, would Pepa be more open to the relationship then, since she has experience with incestuous relationships? Or well she find it even worse? Worry that her brother might just be using her daughter because of their similarities or something horribly creepy like that?

Oh my god. MAN. What a concept. Holy shit I'm dead that situation would have poor Pepa feeling SO CONFUSED she's out there freaking out and clinging to Félix like a terrified koala because she IS a terrified koala, somebody get this poor lady some tea and therapy because she did not sign up for this.

I don't think Bruno would be attracted to Dolores because she reminds him of her mother. If anything, I think her quiet demeanor would remind him of Julieta, maybe, but he's not really thinking about Julieta when he's with Dolores. He's thinking about Dolores. He's in love with Dolores specifically and has been over his sisters for years now. I like the idea that both Bruno and Julieta got over whatever they had when they were young, moved on and now are comfortable enough to joke about it between them (or were comfortable before Bruno started to have a thing with Dolores). But Pepa never got over it. It's not she doesn't love Félix or that she still wants to be with them, but while Bruno and Julieta simply moved on, for Pepa it was a more traumatic experience. She feels like there were a lot of loose ends, a lot of unresolved problems and fears and frustrations that she needs to repress and bottle up and has been resenting Bruno for at least two and a half decades now. That's half their lives. She also projects her problems with Julieta onto Bruno, so, yeah she's just scapegoating the hell out of him. I'm not sure what exactly the problem could be, but I imagine she's horribly ashamed and embarrassed, angry towards Bruno (and secretly at Julieta too, but she won't admit it to herself), angry at herself, scared of their mother ever finding out, and generally frustrated at them for moving on and "leaving her behind", without helping her move on as well. They look like they're so fine. Like they're perfectly okay. So fucking alright. Meanwhile she is the unhappy disaster, the messy one who feels like, maybe she was far more invested in their relationship than they ever were. Maybe she was truly in love but they were only playing a game. Maybe she was fucking stupid all along. And she never really talked about it with them or anyone, not even Félix. And it's not like she's always thinking about it, but when Bruno and Dolores' relationship comes to light, it brings back all of the anger, the hurt, the betrayal... there's also the question of why they broke up, exactly. I assume they just realized it wasn't a realistic plan. It couldn't be a good way to live. Their mother would kill them. They made a mature, intelligent, practical decision, but the breakup was still messy on Pepa's part and she's still angry. So, she's internalized the idea that inc3st is always a bad idea, but with a lot more emotion. Bruno could have a more nuanced understanding of the situation and decided to give this a second chance, this time with Dolores. Pepa doesn't see it that way.

Ahhh anon you ask a VERY interesting question omg i don't know if I can tackle it because it's A LOT. It would take a VERY LONG fic to explore Pepa's thoughs, AND Bruno's AND Dolores' AND Félix's because there's no way that man is being left out of the conversation. And possibly Julieta's too. ahh. mmmm. h hhh , ah ahh I don't know. So many ideas ahh.

Ok ok so Pepa is Not Okay. Bruno is surprisingly Okay-ish. So is Dolores. Dolores, I imagine, doesn't know what happened between the triplets in their youth, because they all agreed not to tell anyone without the consent of all three of them, and Pepa still hasn't ever agreed to say a word, even though Bruno REALLY thinks Dolores should know about this very vital piece of information, oh god he's keeping secrets and lying to his partner he does NOT like lying to his partner but his partner's mother is going to kill him if he speaks up.

Mm I think Pepa would project her own insecurities into Bruno and accuse him of, like you said, "using" her daughter, because she doesn't believe he's over their relationship, when in reality she is the one who couldn't move on. Poor Bruno has a lot of insecurities of his own, so hearing Pepa say that sends him down a spiral of shame because, now that you mention it, Dolores does have her mother's eyes. Maybe Pepa IS right and he's just deluded himself into believing he loves Dolores when in reality he's a pervert obsessed with his sister etc etc we all heard the story. Obviously untrue. Bruno is a good guy. He's not hurting Dolores in any way. Julieta, bless her heart, does believe that Bruno loves Dolores genuinely. She doesn't think he's doing anything malicious - she knows her brother is a good man. At the same time, she's concerned about the age gap, because even though Dolores is an adult she's still 28 years younger than them, she may not be making the smartest decisions, and the triplets did break up for a reason. It wasn't a good life plan to be together in that way. She thinks Bruno has a responsability to end their relationship, but she also knows how difficult it is, and she hasn't seen him this happy in decades, and he really really loves her, so Julieta is super patient with him. Maybe a little bit too patient. She has a heart, too.

What else? Ah, yeah so Dolores is highkey terrified of her mother. She doesn't want to be electrocuted ok?? And we already went over her thing: she's scared of being seen because in the Madrigal household to be seen is to be scrutinized and punish for every tiny flaw and failure and she doesn't think it's worth it etc etc. So now her relationship with Bruno is forced into the spotlight and she is NOT AT ALL preppared to deal with this, ESPECIALLY not ready to face her mother. She knows Bruno is keeping something secret from her, and she's horribly curious but she also can't quite be mad at him. Pepa will try to talk to her and convince her that she's being manipulated, used, that she should feel disgusting and ashamed - she's really projecting again, and it's so fucking painful for Dolores. These are the cruelest, least loving things her mother ever said to her. Pepa and Félix get into more than one fight over the way she treats Dolores. Félix is an amazing dad but he's also Highkey Concerned and kinda wants to break Bruno's nose, but also knows he needs to keep a cool head and hear his daughter out, not because he thinks she'll convince him but because he knows he needs to understand her perspective well before taking any sort of action. Dolores obviously tells him she's in love, I imagine he'll be surprised to see her open up so much, because she was never one to wear her heart on her sleeve, and it would take a lot A LOT to convince him to accept his daughter's relationship, but this may be the first step. Realizing this is something serious and important and that, in any case, they should convince them with, idk Facts and Logic rather than breaking them up by force. He comes to understand very quickly that Bruno isn't being malicious, either. He thinks he's horribly irresponsable and he lost a lot of respect for him, but he feels more pity and frustration towards him than anything else. Like, idk a very ugly and sick dog. Still better than the way Pepa sees him. And he DOES put a lot of pressure on him to Fucking Stop but he's a eeeeehhh he's a little bit nicer I guess. And he doesn't yell at his daughter, angrily drag her forward by her wrist, or lock her up in her soundproof room. Important differences. Yeah because Pepa starts to get very difficult when she's in her irrational unreasonable state. She'll threaten to destroy Dolores' belongings, shame her, scare her, grab her... I mean it's not irredemeable but it's not pretty. But Dolores would lose a lot of trust in her, and she'll start to avoid her, or keep very quiet around her, and Pepa is too angry to feel her heart break.

it would take a lot for her to slow down, use her head, think about what she's doing and try to do better. I think she'd open up to Dolores about her past, eventually, and explain why she feels so strongly about the whole affair. And Dolores' reply is simply "I think you need to talk to them". Which Pepa does. The slow road to recovery begins. I still don't know how the fuck they're gonna convince anyone that, trust me bro it didn't work out the first time but it's totally fine this time around, dude believe me. but i have faith in them.

#madrigalcest #brulores #shit dude i wrote you a full 200k multichap fanfic here #shipcest

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deniigi · 3 years

Note

I love the fic you showed on Luke, Han, Chewie being kidnapped by the trio- I would love to see more! Is there a chance we might see that fic or sections of it? I hope you are having a great day!

You may see more sections of it! It’s like 30k because I have zero self control sometimes, so idk if I will post the whole thing, but snippets I can do!

I wrote a fuckin’ hilarious bit where Han tells Paz that Luke’s got a crush on Din. Paz thinks about Din’s sexuality for .05 seconds and immediately has an anxiety attack that Din feels like he’s got to hide his queerness.

He brings it up with Din, who promptly astral projects in embarrassment.

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

This was a reconnaissance mission now. One which Luke was again having fun on. With Djarin refusing to speak to his comrade, Luke wriggled right into the place he’d left behind and started agitating again. He goaded Djarin and Fett that he could shave hours off the current course time. Han and Chewie hung back and strategically did not back up a damn thing he said.

Paz, uncomfortable to be on any ship that was not his own, clutched at his fingers and watched Luke chasing Djarin like an underfoot puppy in concern.

“What does he want from Din?” he asked Han and Chewie quietly.

Han blinked slowly.

“He’s got a crush,” he said.

Paz’s helmet managed to blanch.

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“Yeah, your boy’s ticking every one of Luke’s boxes, I’m afraid,” Han said while Chewie snickered. “He’s already decided on a destination wedding.”

Paz rubbed a few knuckles under the edge of his helmet and looked away.

“I dunno if the Armorer’s gonna be cool with that,” he said.

Han snorted.

“Armor isn’t strong enough for him, he’s got mind powers,” he said.

Paz’s helmet turned slightly back towards him.

“The Armorer is Din’s parent,” he said. “She leads the teachings at our covert.”

AHA. Orthodox. Han had it now. Djarin was a preacher’s son.

“I don’t know what that means,” Paz said.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Han told him sympathetically. “It’s okay, though. People are more tolerant than you think.”

“I still don’t know what that means,” Paz repeated.

“You will,” Han soothed, “You will.”

It was an hour before Paz blurted out, “Wait you mean he’s gay?” and Han almost cried, he was laughing so hard.

This was supposed to be a hostage situation, but Paz was making this trip a pleasure cruise. He’d gotten about fourteen thousand times more awkward around both Luke and Djarin anytime they passed by. Luke had caught onto this with interest.

Han did nothing to stop him. He and Chewie finally had entertainment after hours and hours of torture.

Paz inched away.

“I’m happy for you,” he told Luke. “It’s fine.”

Luke cocked his head at him and got closer.

“No, man. Not me, sorry,” Paz said. “You got—you got Din. He’s—well, honestly the last I saw him he was like, fifteen and sort of scrawny, but you know he’s probably grown a couple muscles by now.”

Luke lit up.

“I know, he picked me up,” he said.

Paz vibrated.

“Mm-hm,” he said.

“Do you think he likes me?” Luke asked him.

Paz vibrated so hard his armor nearly started knocking against itself.

“He’s really into ancient Tusken shit,” he said. “Ask him about ancient Tusken shit.”

Luke’s eyes couldn’t get any wider or rounder. Any more of this and his pupils would start dilating, too.

“Copy that,” he said, then vanished.

Chewie whimpered and wiped tears from his eyes. Han leaned into his side and grinned so wide his face hurt.

Luke took to flattening himself against the cockpit door and serenading Djarin in the other side with pleas for information about Ancient Tusken culture. Djarin was understandable baffled. He smelled a rat and refused to be forthcoming with any new knowledge.

That made Luke caterwaul louder until Fett had enough of him and locked Djarin out of the cockpit too, with instructions to ‘silence the Jedi before I do permanently.’

Djarin was now stuck out here with the rest of them. He crouched in front of Luke and they had a staring contest for a good two minutes before Djarin got up and sighed.

“You have so much energy,” he said. “No wonder Grogu likes you.”

Luke rocketed up to stand next to him proudly.

“I don’t sleep most nights,” he said.

Djarin studied him.

“I see that,” he said.

“Han and Leia say that I’m a ‘hostile’ bedpartner when I do,” Luke said with finger quotes for Djarin’s benefit.

Djarin, Han swore, was trying to think of a polite way to say, ‘Sir, I think you’re at breaking point.’ But instead he said, ‘do you like tea?’ to which Luke said, ‘absolutely not.’ Djarin told him that he had a great tea for him to try and was thereafter followed into the Falcon’s kitchenette around the corner.

Paz, in the meantime, was absolutely shitting himself. No longer able to avoid this conversation with Djarin.

“I think it’s cute,” Han goaded with Chewie nudging his ribs the whole time.

“The Armorer will not approve,” Paz insisted.

Djarin had done the impossible: he’d put Luke to sleep. He delicately removed the mug of (possible sleep medication) tea from Luke’s unconscious deathgrip and asked Han where the used dishware went. That was thoughtful. Han told him to just stick it any damn place around the sink and he or Chewie would get to it.

He did and then came back to settle in next to Paz. Paz visibly experienced a rainbow of emotions. Djarin didn’t notice a single one of them. Instead, he crossed his legs and held the orange tips of one hand in the orange tips of the other.

“I wanted to apologize, Paz,” he said. “After what you’ve sacrificed for me and the kid, I should have been more grateful.”

“D—don’t mention it,” Paz stammered. “It’s—it’s the Way.”

“It is the Way,” Djarin agreed. “I think I was afraid of how to face all of you afterwards.”

Han could hear Paz’s internal scream from here.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll bet you, uh, did. It—it wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Djarin sat up a little straighter.

“No. How did you know?” he asked.

Paz shivered.

“Just a feeling,” he said. “You know, uh. Din. You don’t have to be ashamed of anything, right? You’re—you’re like my little brother. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or anyone say anything to you. Okay?”

Awwwwwwwww.

Djarin looked up into Paz’s visor.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“What? No. I’m. I’m saying, that if you ever had something you wanted to tell me, or you know, any of us. We’re always here to listen,” Paz said. “And to support you.”

Djarin’s silver helmet tilted worriedly.

“I already did,” he said.

“GREAT,” Paz said. “Perfect. You’re doing amazing.”

Djarin pulled back, officially disturbed.

“Right,” he said slowly. “So I’m gonna—”

“Listen, kid,” Paz said, grabbing the strap between Djarin’s chest and back plates and dragging him back down to sitting. “Think about your parent.” He took Djarin’s hand from where he was actively trying to escape and held it in a firm, masculine grip. “She loves you, you know that.”

“Paz, I’m panicking,” Djarin said outloud.

“And she was so happy for you to have a foundling,” Paz carried on like plough. “So she’s gonna be happy for you, no matter what.”

Djarin could not pull his hand out of Paz’s grip, and boy was he trying. He’d started a cool descent to the floor, he was trying so hard.

“I know,” he grated out.

“But a jedi, Din?”

“He can’t help it, man,” Djarin said, still struggling almost on his back now. “You said it yourself. It’s a born-with-it thing.”

Paz stared forcefully at his knuckles.

“You’re right,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “But if that’s how it gonna be, you really should propose first.”

Djarin’s helmet somehow managed to emote ‘shock’ on the ground there.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked. “I barely knew her.”

“Her?” Paz asked, then caught himself. “Sorry, sorry. Not my business—”

“It was like, a week at most—”

“Not my business.”

“And yeah, she had a great kid and—”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Paz said. “Who are you talking about?”

Djarin stared.

“My friend? From Sorgen?” he said. “Who are you talking about?”

Paz went very still.

“You’re fuckin’ some gal on Sorgen?” he asked.

“No?” Djarin said. “I mean. She wanted to, and I thought about it, but it was only a week, and I didn’t want her to feel like I’d used her only for—who are you talking about?”

“The jedi,” Paz said, pointing at Luke’s languid, curled up self on the table’s bench.

“Why would I be fucking the jedi?” Djarin asked. “He’s my son’s teacher, Paz.”

“Because he’s crushing on you?” Paz asked, equally upset and confused. “And you’re gay, so?”

“I’m what?”

“Gay????”

“I am??”

Han was crying. Han was sobbing.

These idiots were days of comedy. Look at them go. Look at ‘em spin.

“Din, please. You don’t have to fake it. I support you—”

“I didn’t ask for your support?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of—”

“I’m not ashamed.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m picking up some strong feelings. And I don’t want you to think that—”

“Paz, what I want more than anything for you to do right now is to stop thinking. I’m not gay.”

Paz pressed a hand against his helmet like he was in physical pain.

“But the way you always looked at Teyo,” he said.

Djarin had a tiny stroke and slammed his fist into Paz’s arm.

“DON’T MENTION—”

“What the FUCK, brat?”

“HOW DARE YOU—”

“Why’re you yellin’ at me now??”

“Why’re you bringing up some childhood shit, haven’t we done enough of that already?”

“Why’re you so mad? I’m tryin’ to be supportive. If you wanna fuck the Jedi, fuck the Jedi. I’m just sayin’ maybe don’t tell the Armorer until after you’ve done it, so she doesn’t think you’re under some kinda mind-trick or somethin’, alright?”

Han no longer needed those helmets. He had these characters down. Djarin was gaping now. In shock and offense.

“Never speak to me again,” he decided.

“Bro,” Paz said.

“NO.”

“Karkin’ hell, Din. What’s your problem?”

“Excuse me, I must drown, where are your facilities?” Djarin asked Han directly.

“Round the corner, on the left,” Han told him.

“No, no, no,” Paz said, grabbing Djarin by the cape and dragging him back. “We gotta talk about this. We gotta process.”

“I’m not processing shit with you,” Djarin said. “I am not fucking the jedi.”

“But you want to,” Paz deduced.

“I—what? Wh—do you want me to have relations with him? Did I miss something?” Djarin asked.

“I want you to feel supported,” Paz said.

“I don’t. I feel targeted,” Djarin said. “Stop targeting me.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

“Good. Let go.”

“But if—”

“Paz, I’m going to behead myself.”

“If you do want to have sex with the jedi, later. That’s fine. Or anyone else. That’s fine, too.”

“BOBA.”

Behold. A breaking point.

#fic #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #I literally just want to write Din and Paz fighting and being secretly protective of each other 24/7 #idk if that's been made clear yet #do you think I'm being too subtle?#ficlet

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x-reader-fanfics · 3 years

Note

Heyyyy :) I saw your last post w dataxreader, and I was wondering if you’d do another? I LOVED it 😍 maybe one where reader and data aren’t in a relationship yet, but he gets super jealous when someone hits on reader, and then mutual feelings come to light? Eeeek thank you, and if u don’t wanna do this one right away I understand cause u just did one, but thank u anyway, and I love your writing ♥️

🖤 Malfunction 💛

Summary: When a new Ensign takes a romantic interest in you, a new light begins to shine on the seemingly simple relationship between you and your closest friend Data.

Requests are open!

~x~

Data had always preferred working with you.

You understood the nuances of his coding and his odd personality in ways no other officer ever had. Where most would have been confused and perhaps even discomforted by his unusual behavior, you had always found it fascinating, even going so far as telling him it was charming.

“I like hearing things from your perspective. You say such wonderful things, Data.” You had laughed, bumping his elbow with your own as you and him worked for hours side by side.

You were his partner, the completing half of his equation. No one else would get the question right. He needed you, and you needed him.

“Good morning, Data.” You smiled warmly, sliding into his side as you began your shifts together as you always had, greeting him the same way you always had before, kind and soft.

“Good morning, (F/N).” He welcomed you back, cordial and quiet.

Mornings were the moments you always shared together, the small smiles and quick touches which insinuated more but never dared to be recognized aloud.

“I barely slept last night.” You sighed deeply, gently resting your head against his shoulder as your eyes fluttered shut. You reminded him of the Renaissance angels he had often seen in ancient Earth paintings. He should do a painting of you.

“Perhaps a visit to Dr. Crusher would be beneficial.” Data commented idly, refusing to move even slightly, hoping it might persuade you to keep your head buried in the crook of his neck for even a millisecond longer.

Touching you was right. Being with you was right. It was unexplainable, but it was akin to answering a complicated question correctly, or finishing a long project. It was what he had been made to do.

“Hey beautiful.” An unknown voice interrupted Data’s rampant thoughts, causing his golden eyes to flicker toward this intruder into you and his peaceful morning.

“Oh. Hey, Brad.” You slightly sighed, bowing your head politely at him before returning to your work.

“A couple of friends and I are having a party tonight at Ten Forward. I’d love for you to be there.” He grinned, his smile all teeth and his eyes shimmering a bit too brightly.

“A party in Ten Forward. I had not heard of this before now.” Data easily inserted himself into the conversation, cocking his head as he stared questioningly at the Ensign.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Brad rubbed his neck awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable around the android. “There’ll be girls there too. If you’re even into that sort of thing…”

Data missed your eyes shooting towards his, a hopeful but anxious look dancing across your face. You had wanted to admit your feelings to your friend for months now, but your anxieties about his own feelings had always held you back. How could he possibly be interested in other people in such a way? He didn’t even have emotions.

“Tell your friends I will be there.” He smiled, over-animatedly winking as he returned to his work, a small but proud smile on his face. He needed to watch over you and make sure this Brad didn’t try anything which might make you uncomfortable. You were his partner to care for, he nodded satisfactorily within his head, as if needing to justify his abnormal behavior to himself.

You could feel your heart shatter. Data wanted to go to Brad’s stupid party? To pick up girls? You were planning on simply turning the man down and having a quiet night in, but now that Data was going…

“Well you can count me in too.” You had to force yourself to smile, fighting the urge to gag at the way Brad licked his lips and winked at your response. He sauntered away like the cat who had caught the canary, your hands itching to strangle him as you twisted back to your work station, a cheesy smile still plastered to your face.

“Are you interested in Brad sexually?” Data asked with a pleasant smile.

Your mouth fell open, your breath flooding out of you as a wild blush stained your cheeks, hot and embarrassing. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t even breathe!

“W-Why’s any of that your business!” You half-shouted, darting away before he could pry any deeper.

You couldn’t handle it if Data found out you were in love with him.

Ah. Data mused, each and every one of his circuits freezing on one overly-simple thought. It would appear you loved him.

~x~

You hadn’t spoken to Data all day. You were too ashamed to even consider facing him. Running away in the middle of your shift because of your personal feelings was not something a professional Starfleet officer did.

“If I may be so bold,” A familiar voice began, soft and warm in its cantor, “You are positively ravishing this evening.”

Data stood before you, an out-of-character smirk striking daringly across his face as he took your hand in his, lightly grazing his lips against your knuckles.

“Data!” You gasped, barely able to keep yourself from becoming a melted mess.

“What are we doing talking over here when we could be dancing over there?” He smirked, grabbing your waist as he pulled you by the hand towards the dance floor, a grace to his every step.

“What happened to you Data?” You asked, practically breathless.

“I downloaded some new personalities appropriate for such an event.” He dipped you low, brushing his nose against yours as he started deeply into your eyes. “Are you enjoying me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh then, carefree and dripping with affection.

You loved this man.

“Yes, Data. I always enjoy you.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck right in the middle of the dance floor.

Data felt accomplished. Everything was as it should be. You were always meant to be with him, and no one else. It was just what made sense.

You were his closest friend.

“Data, there’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you, but I’ve never really been able to.” You grasped his hand tighter in yours, unable to remove your eyes from the floor.

“What is it?” He asked, patient and quiet.

“Pardon to interrupt, but I couldn’t let you keep this beauty all to yourself for the whole night.” Brad smiled confidently, bending his face closer to yours as he attempted to slide between you and Data.

Data refused to budge, pulling you closer against his body. He barely stopped himself from shoving the Ensign across the room.

What was going through his systems? The more Brad talked to you the more Data wanted to never see his face again. The closer Brad got to you the closer Data needed to be to you instead, as if to reassure himself of something.

Any smiles you afforded Brad were meant to be his. He didn’t want you to look at anyone but him.

But such thoughts could only be defined as possessiveness. Something Data knew was inappropriate for friendships.

He released you, giving you one last glance before quickly leaving Ten Forward. He couldn’t bear to see his hands on you, to see the love which would pour out of your eyes for the handsome human, something Data could never compare to.

People did not fall in love with androids.

Even as his system screamed at him to correct things, to take you in his arms and kick Brad halfway back to Earth, he refused to listen. With some simple rewiring he could set his head back on straight.

You were his friend. Somewhere along the way his pathways must have set the wrong link down, convincing himself you might be something more.

His feelings for you were nothing more than a malfunction.

You watched as Data stormed away, confused and hurt by his behavior. One moment he looked ready to clock Brad and the next he was almost throwing you at him.

Did he think you wanted the slime bag?

“He’s never not said goodbye to me.” You muttered almost to yourself, staring after your best friend.

“Maybe he just forgot to.” Brad joked, grabbing you by the hips. “Let’s stop talking about that android and start talking about us.”

You scoffed at him, harshly shoving him away as you ran after Data. You were going to tell him no matter what it took, everyone else on this ship be damned.

You eventually found him in Keiko O’Brien’s garden, his face almost forlorn as he gently caressed an orchid in full bloom.

“Data?” You asked quietly, not wishing to startle him even though you knew that was impossible.

He turned his head to yours, almost in disbelief. “Where is Brad?”

“I don’t know, he’s nobody I’m concerned about.” You stated clearly, stepping towards him. He was so tall, the way he gazed down upon you with such genuine confusion causing you to smother a giggle.

“I do not understand, but it is not a topic I wish to hear more about.” He admitted, returning to his flower.

“And why is that?” You asked hopefully, bunching your dress between your fingers.

He glanced back at you, face blank as he simply contemplated himself, the color of your hair and the look on your face enough to push him over the edge.

“Because I am malfunctioning.” He said simply, stock still as he waited for your response.

You took his hand in your own, holding it as gently as a bird as you squeezed it to your chest. “What if I told you I was malfunctioning too?”

His brows furrowed across his face. “Then we must see Dr. Crusher at once!”

Your jaw dropped, disbelief to the point of amusement dancing across your face as you watched the worry on his face slowly seep into bewilderment.

“I’m not talking about my health, Data.” You laughed, sliding your fingers against his scalp as you pressed your body flush to his. “I’m telling you I’m in love with you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Before you could react he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pressing his lips against yours hard enough to bruise. He wanted you so badly in that moment he had forgotten to restrain himself, pressing against you fervently as he began to kiss the corner of your mouth, sucking and biting his way to your neck.

He couldn’t believe you would say such a thing to him, that you would allow him to do this. It was such a thrilling and new interaction he couldn’t get enough of it.

Without hesitation he pulled your flesh between his teeth, proudly marking you as his as he bruised your neck.

“Data…” You moaned, unable to do anything but limply hold onto him, knowing he would never let you fall.

“My (Y/N).” He whispered happily against your hickey, giving it a quick kiss, before standing back up properly, still refusing to release you from his hold.

Your whole body felt like jelly. Just from a few kisses Data had swooned you off your feet.

“You are so handsome.” You sighed, not knowing anything else to say but exactly what had been on your mind since you had first met the android.

“And you are so beautiful.” He murmured back gently, knowing he would spend the rest of his life saying those words.

#onlyyoudarling #request #data tng #tng #star trek #star trek the next generation #data #data x reader #data tng x reader #im so sorry this took so long #but i finally finished my semester so I have time to write now #I really hope you enjoy it!#thank you so much for enjoying my writing #fanfic #x reader #x reader fanfics #jealousy #fluff

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bluefuckboy · 3 years

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Summer Jasmine ✨

Kiribaku A/B/O (Omegaverse)

Alpha Kirishima and Omega Bakugo

Summary: Bakugo has been a single father for three years, after a one night stand with an unknown Alpha resulted in him becoming pregnant. He has always struggled with being an Omega, but has been successful at hiding his true identity, including now while raising his daughter, Yuki. After an incident at preschool, he is called into a parent teacher conference. But what was supposed to be a simple meeting turns out to be a twist of so called “fate.” Bakugo questions whether the difficult journey he’s endured has led to this Alpha, whose scent is like a peaceful, summer breeze.

I’ll be posting the full fic on AO3 soon. It’s about 10 chapters or so and approximately 15K. The name comes from a song released in 1972 called “Summer Breeze” by Seals & Crofts. I’ll explain more when the full fic is released, but go give it a listen as it’s a good, calming song.

This is the first chapter with a note at the end on how the a/b/o universe is structured for this fic

Trigger Warnings: implications of assault against Omegas (including brief mention of attempted rape), mpreg, mentions of abortion, issues dealing with self-hate and struggles with gender identity in terms of secondary gender of a/b/o, later chapters are nsfw

@slackslumber I’m sorry this turned out to be a light novel

Bakugo glanced up at the plate next to the classroom door.

Kirishima E.

Pre-K

He inhaled and ran a hand through his hair, which he had attempted to tame in vain. It wasn’t his first parent teacher conference. Yuki was an unruly child and was becoming even more so as she got older. This time she had tried to bite the ear of another kid and Bakugo was prepared for another dull lecture from a dull teacher who didn’t know a thing about actually raising kids.

He let the breath he had been holding out and gripped the doorknob, giving it a turn. The room was set up like any normal Pre-K classroom would be. There were little brightly colored chairs in groups, large matts with the letters of the alphabet and numbers adorned the floor and model planets hung from the ceiling.

At the front of the classroom was a large desk at which sat a man with bright red hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail. He was dressed in a nice button up, sans tie, with the top couple buttons undone. Rimmed glasses sat perched atop his nose and he pushed them up with the butt of a pencil as he stared at the stack of papers in front of him.

Bakugo cleared his throat and the man looked up.

“Oh! Sorry,” he got up and went to extend a hand to Bakugo, “I’m Kirishima, you must be Yuki’s dad.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Bakugo replied, shaking the hand offered to him.

Kirishima was tall and Bakugo opted to stare at his feet clad in worn dress shoes instead of trying to meet the amber eyes of the teacher. Kirishima motioned for Bakugo to take a seat at a chair that had been moved in front of the desk.

Bakugo sat down, crossing his arms out of habit. He tended to keep to himself and that extended to his interactions with other people. He didn’t want to draw any extra attention to himself.

Kirishima seemed to be the complete opposite. It was clear he was well suited for the job he was in. Bakugo could see children’s drawings hung on the wall behind Kirishima. Little stick figures with crude faces. There were a couple that had a character with spiky red scribbled on top of its head. They had shaky letters drawn next to the stick figure that read “Mr. K.”

Kirishima moved the stack of papers to the side, and set his glasses atop it. He gave Bakugo a toothy smile and Bakugo noticed the sharpness of his canines. His brow furrowed and he tensed a bit. He didn’t particularly care for Alphas, so he was usually a little wary around them.

But Kirishima’s eyes were soft and warm. There was a small scar by one of his eyebrows and Bakugo noticed he had the makings of crows feet at the corner of his eyes despite his youthful appearance. They were probably from smiling so wide that he looked almost like a shark.

Kirishima picked up the pencil he had earlier and twirled it as he said, “I hate having meetings like this, so I’m sorry if I seem a little bit unprofessional.”

Bakugo didn’t reply and Kirishima continued, “Yuki is wonderful. She’s very bright for her age and does great with her grades. But she seems, hmm, how do I put this.”

He tapped the pencil against his temple in thought, his bottom lip sucked under his top teeth. His expression turned to concern as he spoke again.

“It feels like Yuki is lashing out, so that’s why I wanted to talk with you.”

Bakugo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he said, “I can make her apologize to that boy and his parents. We had a conversation about using our words and stuff.”

Kirishima waved his hand. “No no it’s not that. Well, it is a part of it. But not the main reason I called you here.”

Kirishima sighed and sat back in his chair. “I care a lot about my students. It’s kinda silly but I think of them as my own kids sometimes. So I want them to do well. But not just in school.”

His cheeks tinged red slightly. “I know it’s not my place to butt in on people’s personal lives, so I apologize if I offend you, but I’m just concerned that this might be something for Yuki that is bigger than the classroom.”

He turned to reach behind him, grabbing a picture off the wall that Bakugo hadn’t noticed during his initial glance at the artwork. Kirishima placed it in front of him and Bakugo looked down at it.

It was a picture of a little stick figure girl with a bright pink bow in her hair. She was standing next to a figure of a man who was holding the black line that was the stick figure girl’s hand. The word “Daddy” had been written next to the figure in legible handwriting that must have been from a TA or something.

The background of the photo was scribbled with a blue sky and green grass, with a little house in the distance. But there was an area that was left blank, a white spot on the other side of the girl. Her little stick hand was surrounded by the white, almost as though she was trying to reach for something. “Yuki” was written in large shaky letters at the bottom of the paper.

Bakugo’s heart clenched as Kirishima spoke softly.

“This was from a week ago. We had draw your family as our art project. I don’t want to pry or assume anything, but when I asked Yuki what the white spot was, it seemed to make her upset.”

Bakugo could feel his cheeks getting hot. He wasn’t sure how to reply. It was obvious that he didn’t have a partner, and being a single parent wasn’t unusual. Rather it was the fact that in their society he wouldn’t be considered Yuki’s father.

Bakugo’s silence made Kirishima redden a bit more and he said, “I’m sorry if this is sore subject. I’m just concerned.”

“It’s fine,” Bakugo spat.

The words came out more defensive than he meant them too and Kirishima’s eyebrows knit together closer with concern. Then he asked the question Bakugo always dreaded he’d hear.

“Can I ask you about Yuki’s mother?”

Bakugo swallowed and tried to compose himself before speaking again.

“I’m raising Yuki on my own. Her mother is…”

He trailed off as his heart started beating faster. He was always so cautious and he knew that he should tell Kirishima to mind his own god damn business. But something about the calmness in Kirishima’s voice and his genuine smile made Bakugo feel like this was a safe space.

He tried to push down the ball of anxiety buzzing in his chest as he gripped the sides of the chair and said quietly, “It’s Yuki’s father, not her mother. I… I’m the one who gave birth to her.”

The admonition seemed to hang in the air and Bakugo hung his head. It shouldn’t be something he was ashamed about. Male Omegas were rare and it was even rarer for one to be able to give birth. They called it a “True Omega” and the odds were about one in a nearly half a million. It was a rarity that was often exploited, which was why Bakugo had kept it secret, even from Yuki when she asked why she didn’t have a mommy like the other kids at the playground.

The classroom was deadly quiet and Bakugo’s adrenaline was nearing the fight or flight stage, but then Kirishima spoke again.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone. I care about Yuki a lot, so I promise I won’t make things any more difficult. And if I can help in anyway, I’d be more than happy to.”

The offer caught Bakugo off guard and he finally looked up. Kirishima’s expression was one Bakugo had only seen on the face of characters from the movies he used to watch as a kid. A look that made you feel safe and protected, almost like a knight in shining armor. Kirishima smiled and it felt like a weight had been lifted from Bakugo’s chest. Even the air seemed clearer and he realized his knuckles had turned white from his death grip on the chair.

He let go, but regretted it as his hands started shaking. It felt like he was coming down from a panic attack and he felt the wetness of tears on his cheeks. He flushed from embarrassment and ducked his head into his lap.

It was mortifying, but he couldn’t stop and his whole body trembled as he wrapped his arms round himself. Fat tears were rolling down his cheeks and he wanted to melt into the floor. But suddenly there was an aroma like a summer breeze.

It wrapped around him and as he inhaled shakily his trembling started to stop. His whole body felt like it was being enveloped in a warm embrace from the inside out. It was a comforting, almost faintly familiar scent and he could feel his muscles relax as the tears gradually started to subside.

A tissue appeared in front of him and he realized that Kirishima had come around the desk to kneel beside him. Bakugo reached out a shaky hand to accept the tissue. As he did, the tips of his fingers brushed against Kirishima’s.

It was the briefest of contact, but it felt like little sparks had ignited from where the pads of their fingers had touched. Bakugo looked to see if Kirishima had experienced a similar feeling, but his face was still etched with worry. His hand on the back of the chair did tighten slightly however and Bakugo’s heart rate went up despite not knowing what he was expecting.

But then Kirishima was standing up again, taking the smell of the summer breeze with him. It made Bakugo realize what had happened and he looked at Kirishima with an expression between anger and fear.

“Did you just use pheromones on me?”

A/B/O Universe Notes

Alpha/Omega changes occur at puberty

Secondary sex characteristics manifest. Alphas will go through a growth spurt and will eventually grow their “fangs.” Omegas will have their first heat. Both will begin to emit pheromones and part of growing up is being able to control them. However, thanks to modern medicine, blockers makes it much easier.

70% of the population is Beta

Betas are essentially normal humans. They can procreate with each other and don’t experience a rut or a heat.

20% of the population is Alpha

They are considered a superior form of human. Physically they are usually a bit taller, able to gain muscle very easily, and have lots of stamina.

A unique characteristic of the Alpha are their fangs. They manifest during puberty and are attached to glands in the Alphas mouth. During arousal, while in rut, or even a rush of adrenaline can cause an Alpha’s fangs to descend slightly from the gum line and is referred to as “baring.” The canine teeth are connected directly to the glands and are the sharpest and most prominent, but the lateral incisor will also sharpen slightly during puberty. When an Alpha bares their fangs, the canines will become extremely pronounced. When marking, the fangs are used to puncture the skin and can secrete fluid from the glands in order to mark an Omega.

An Alpha will experience a rut occasionally. During this time they will become fixated on mating and can become irrational. Ruts are sporadic and with the help of blockers, most Alphas are able to avoid rut.

10% of the population is Omega

Generally thought of as the “weakest sex” Omegas are usually smaller in frame and it is hard for them to gain muscle. They can become pregnant regardless of gender, but male Omegas are not common. Impregnating a male Omega is also extremely difficult, unless they are a “True Omega” Most male Omegas are recessive.

The Omega experiences an estrus period, or heat, once a month. It will make them want to breed, same as the Alpha’s rut. Unlike a rut, blockers have no effect on the estrus period. During the estrus, an Omega will become wet, secreting what is referred to as slick, making it easier for an Alpha to enter them. For female Omegas it is secreted vaginally, for male Omegas it is secreted anally. However, male Omegas often produce significantly less slick during the estrus period and the chances of pregnancy are very low.

True Omegas are a phenomenon where the body is fully Omega, regardless of gender. The person will be able to be impregnated easily, even if they are male, and their estrus periods are often more intense. The percentage of True Omegas that have been reported is less than 1%.

Copulation:

Between Betas it’s exactly how it works in regular humans.

Between an Alpha and an Omega there are a few more factors. Pheromones play a part in intercourse, both in initiating and during. Slick makes it very easy for an Alpha to enter an Omega. During intercourse the Alpha is able to “knot” an Omega if significantly aroused, or in rut. Knotting lets the Alpha stay connected to the Omega for an extended period of time. Ejaculation is delayed while the Alpha is knotting. Once knotted, an Alpha will ejaculate numerous times into the Omega. Knotting can last for a few seconds, to over an hour. The physical knot is a gland at the base of an Alpha’s penis that will swell in the Omega, causing them to become stuck together until the Alpha finishes ejaculation or is rendered incapacitated.

Pregnancy

For Betas it is around a normal gestational period of 9 months. For Omegas it is shorter, usually around 4 to 5 months. Children of Omegas tend to be on the smaller side, regardless of the parents genders.

Fated Mates/Pairs

This is regarded as a fantastical idea, but has never been proven as fact or fiction. A fated pair consists of an Alpha and Omega who are so compatible, it’s almost like fate has brought them together. Some claim to have experienced almost a supernatural pull to their partner, but scientists have labeled it the evolution of compatibility making it easier for Alphas and Omegas to select the best mate for them.

#kiribaku #kiribaku au #kiribaku fanfic #kiribaku fanfiction #kiribaku omegaverse #kiribaku abo #krbk #krbk abo #krbk omegaverse #alpha kirishima #omega bakugou

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

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Before anything, I want you to know that your stories are amazing and unique. I've read all of them and love each one so, so much! Would you write a Soulmate AU with either Tom or Peter? Maybe like same tattoo in the same place, and they only found out because one of them accidentally saw the others naked 😂

Mockingbird

Pairing: Soulmate!AU Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: a mixup in the bathroom leads you to accidentally seeing Toms soulmate tattoo

Warnings: nudity? Nothing is described but the word “butt” is used so

Authors note: thank you @clara-licht ! This inspired me so much that I wrote it all in one sitting and I’m really proud of it. I hope you like it and thank you for reading my work!

Masterlist

Dating didn’t really exist in a world where soulmates were born with matching tattoos. It was seen as taboo to date anyone else before you found your soulmate. You always respected the rules and kept as eye out for the tattoo that matched yours, but even the impracticality of it all couldn’t stop you from developing a crush on your best friend, Tom Holland.

You never asked where his tattoo was or what it looked like, partially out of respect and partially out of fear that it wouldn’t match yours. The fear didn’t keep you from wondering what his was. You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times, so you knew it wasn’t anywhere on his top half. You’d seen him in shorts as well, so it couldn’t be in his legs. You’d been friends with Tom long enough to feel like you would’ve at least caught a glimpse of it, but you never did.

Until one day.

You and Tom had gone swimming in your pool and he told you he was gonna shower before you grabbed something to eat. Assuming he’d be in your bathroom for a while, you picked up your copy of To Kill a Mockingbird and sat on the couch to read it. After around twenty minutes, the lemonade you’d been drinking hit you and you really had to pee. You put your book down and went to the nearest bathroom.

As soon as you opened the door, your eyes landed on your naked best friend facing away from you. More importantly, they landed on the small tattoo of a bird on his left, uh, cheek.

“Ah! Naked!” You screamed, completely forgetting that Tom said he was gonna be in the shower.

“Ah! Y/n!” Tom whipped around with his hands covering himself.

“Ah! Leaving!” You shut the door in a haste and pressed your back against it. You clamped a hand over your mouth as you slid down the door, hot tears spilling onto your cheeks. You never put much thought into what or where Toms soulmate tattoo was, but the jarring and unexpected discovery of it made your heart shatter for one reason:

It didn’t match yours.

He had a bird, and you didn’t. That meant there was some girl out there with the exact same tattoo that was going to end up with the man you loved. You buried your face in your hands as silent sobs left your body. It caught you so off guard that you couldn’t move from in front of the door. After a while, you heard the shower turn off and you scrambled to your feet. You ran back into the living room and picked up your book, pretending to read as you waiting for Tom to come in. You ended up staring at the same page for seven minutes until Tom walked into the room with an awkward clearing of his throat.

“Hey, champ.” He addressed you.

“Hi, sport.” You said without looking up from the book. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch and the room went silent.

“How are you?” He said to break the silence.

“A little traumatized, but otherwise I’m doing all right.” You replied, never looking at him. You held the book up a little higher so he couldn’t see the tears threatening to fall.

“You didn’t see the old web shooter, right?” He blurted after another beat of silence and you shut the book with a hard thud.

“No.” You stared straight ahead.

“Or my jat?” He asked. This time, you looked at him. His curls were damp and his face was red, two things you’d normally find adorable. But Tom didn’t look the same to you. He went from being someone who could potentially be your soulmate to someone who you knew wasn’t your soulmate, and that changed how you viewed him. Unable to look at him any longer without crying, you looked away.

“Your what?” You asked quietly.

“My jat.” He repeated.

“What’s a jat?” You asked as you pretended to look at your nails.

“It’s slang.” He shrugged.

“For?” You asked.

“Fat ass.” He mumbled as if he were ashamed. You would normally laugh, but you felt numb at that point.

“No. I didn’t see that either. Most likely because you don’t have one.” You tried to act normal. Tom cracked a smile, having noticed your indifference.

“Tumblr would disagree.” He said a little too proudly.

“Well they haven’t seen you like I have.” You practically snapped at him. You felt bad, especially since he had no idea why you were upset.

“Are you okay?” He finally asked and you wanted to scream.

“Fine.” You said coldly, picking the book back up.

“Are you hungry?” He tried to change the subject.

“No.” You muttered.

“Now I know something’s wrong.” He half heartedly laughed.

“Nothing wrong, Tom.” Your anger began to rise.

“You’re not even looking at me.” He said, a little hurt.

“I’ve seen enough of you today.” You replied.

“Y/n.” He said, leaning forward and placing a hand on your knee.

“Tom.” You stared him right in the eye as you pushed his hand off.

“You’re acting off. Are you sure you‘re okay?” He looked you up and down, wishing you’d tell him what was upsetting you so he could fix it.

“I’m fine.” You repeated, flipping to the next page dramatically even though you didn’t read anything.

“And you didn’t see anything?” He inquired.

“No.” You said firmly as your throat tightened. “I didn’t see anything.”

You avoided Tom for the next few weeks. You gave him lame excuses that you had work or school to get out of seeing him. You knew it wasn’t fair just as much as you knew it wasn’t his fault, but you couldn’t bear to face him. You could not bear the reality that he wasn’t your soulmate. If he wasn’t, then what was the point? Why give him all your time and energy if he was destined to be with another girl? You spent the four weeks apart crying and trying to fall out of love with him. He was never yours to lose, but it still hurt like hell. Your beating heart was replaced by a dull ache. You didn’t want a different soulmate. You didn’t want to someday attend the wedding of Tom and his. Even if the universe intended for you two to end up with different people, you still yearned for him. It was unfathomable to you that your heart was made to beat for someone other than Tom. You didn’t want it too.

Maybe the universe was wrong.

After four weeks of not seeing each other, he pulled up to your house, unannounced. When he didn’t get out of the car, you went outside to see him. With your heart in your throat, you knocked on his window. He rolled it down and stared at you stone faced.

“Hey.” You said awkwardly.

“I wasn’t even sure if you still lived here.” He replied in a flat tone.

“I do.” You offered weakly.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He stated as he looked at you sadly in the eyes.

“I’ve been busy.” You lied.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He repeated in a more final tone. You didn’t say anything for a while and he sighed.

“Get in the car.” He nodded towards the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“I don’t know.” He said sincerely. “Please, just get in.”

You got in and drove silently to an empty park. Tom parked the car in an open area where you could see the stars. He didn’t ask you why you were avoiding him. He instead began to tell you about how he’d been the past four weeks and about his next project. The conversation was normal, and you slowly warned up to him and spoke like everything was normal. You sat in the car and just talked for hours, until the sun started to rise.

“Truth or dare?” He continued your ongoing game.

“Lets go dare.” You shrugged sleepily.

“I dare you to wear my jacket for the rest of our time together.” He said as if it’d been something he had been thinking about for a while.

“What? Why?” You asked at the absurd request.

“Because I dared you too.” He replied as he handed you his jacket.

“Okay.” You said skeptically as you slid his jacket on over your tank top. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” He nodded.

“Whats your biggest secret?” You asked as you took a sip of his water bottle.

“Oof. I don’t know if I can tell you.” He laughed to himself.

“You can’t tell me? We tell each other everything.” You shoved him a little.

“But this is embarrassing.” He told you.

“Please?” You tilted your head to the side. He stared at you for a moment, as if decided what he should do, then shook his head.

“No, I can’t. No one can ever know. Only Haz knows right now and I plan on keeping it that way.” He said definitely.

“What? That makes me want to know even more.” You whined.

“No, because if I tell you, then I have to show you. And I’m not showing you. No way.” Tom shook his head.

“Show me what?” You inquired.

“My tattoo.” He said.

“I already know about the one on your foot.” You answered, disappointed that the secret was something you already knew about.

“No. It’s a different one.” He said to your surprise.

“You have another secret tattoo?” You sat up in your seat. “Now you have to show me.”

“I can’t. I physically can’t.” He stressed.

“Why not?” Now you were really curious.

“Because it’s on my asscheek!” Tom shouted. “There! Are you happy? I have a tattoo on my butt. That’s it. That’s the secret.”

“You have a tattoo on your butt.” You repeated as the gears in your head began to turn.

“Yes, we’ve established that.” Tom said, a little annoyed.

“Of a bird.” You continued.

“Yes, we’ve established th-“ Tom cut himself off and looked at you incredulously. “How did you know that?”

“Remember that one time I walked in on you in the bathroom and said I didn’t see you naked?” You asked as your heart began to race, the fire of hope returning.

“Yeah.” Tom remembered.

“I saw you naked.” You admitted. Tom was silent for a moment as the shock of your confession went through him.

“Should I apologize? I feel like I should apologize.” He broke the silence.

“You don’t have too. It was my fault.” You told him.

“Is that why you’ve been acting different? Because you saw my juicy dumper- ah I mean, butt?” He tried to lighten the mood and you laughed a little.

“Yeah. I mean, no. It’s not that I saw your butt.” You sighed, not ready for the impending conversation. “It’s that I saw your tattoo.”

“And that made you distance yourself from me?” Tom asked in confusion.

“Yes.” You nodded, feeling guilty that he noticed your purposeful avoidance.

“Why?” He asked sadly.

“Because I don’t have the same one.” You choked out as you looked him tearfully in the eyes. “I can’t imagine loving someone else the way I love you. Since the beginning, I thought it’d be us. I thought it would be you and I in the long run. But when I saw your soulmate tattoo and realized I didn’t have the same one, I couldn’t face you anymore. I couldn’t act like it didn’t kill me that my soulmate is someone other than you. Or that there’s a girl out there with a bird on her butt, and she gets to end up with you. I couldn’t do that.”

“Darling.” Tom said softly and put a hand on your knee.

“Don’t. There’s nothing you can say right now.” You pushed his hand off and stared out the window.

“It kills me too.” He said after a few minutes of silence. You looked back at him and saw that he was crying.

“What?” You asked.

“It kills me too. Why do you think I made you put on my jacket? Do you know how hard it is to be around you when you wear things like that? Sleeveless shirts that show off that lotus tattoo on your arm?” He said in a quivering voice. “I despise that tattoo. It kills me to see it.”

“Why?” You inquired.

“Because I don’t have it.” Toms voice broke as he yelled. “And it’s a painful reminder that I will never be with you every time I see it.”

The car went silent for a while as Tom let out a fear tears.

“It’s a mockingbird, by the way.” He said between sniffles.

“What?” You asked.

“My tattoo. We were hanging out one night a few years ago and you took your jacket off, you just had a tank top on underneath. I got sick to my stomach when I saw that tattoo for the first time.” Tom shook his head with disdain. “I left your house and got drunk at some bar because I couldn’t handle the fact that you were gonna end up with somebody that wasn’t me. The upstairs doubled as a tattoo parlor and Haz dared me to get one and I agreed. I couldn’t think of anything to get, but then I thought of you and your smell and your smile and your favorite book-“

“-To Kill a Mockingbird.” You interjected.

“Yeah. So I got that. A mockingbird. I didn’t want it to affect my career so I got it in a place no one could see. I just needed to feel a different kind of pain that night than the one I was already feeling.” He said in the most heartbreaking tome you’d ever heard him use.

“That’s not your soulmate tattoo?” You whispered in disbelief. You’d been torn apart over it for weeks just to find out he’d gotten the tattoo done himself.

“No. It’s not.” Tom said as he stared out the window. You could see tears rolled down his eyes in the reflection.

“That’s not mine either.” You said, suddenly desperate for him to know the truth.

“What?” He turned around to face you, a flicking gleam of hope in his eyes.

“I got the lotus for my eighteenth birthday because it’s my moms favorite flower. I forget it’s there so I never talk about it.” You told him. “And you never asked.”

“I tried my hardest to forget about it. I couldn’t be around you otherwise.” Tom admitted as he subconsciously examined all your exposed skin for your actual soulmate tattoo.

“That’s exactly why I haven’t been able to be around you recently.” You told him the truth and he looked at you with a distinct sadness.

“I had no idea.” He said apologetically.

“Me either.” You said, half relieved and half dreading the next question. “Then what is your soulmate tattoo?”

“What if it doesn’t match yours?” Tom knew what you were really looking for. Now that your feelings for each other were admitted, there was so much more at stake.

“What if it does?” You touched his face with light fingertips.

“Are you still gonna love me if I’m promised to someone else?” He practically begged.

“I’m always gonna love you.” You leaned in closer and said with determination. Tom cracked a smile that quickly faded.

“It could be written in the stars that I belong with another girl.” He feared.

“Then we make our own constellation.” You promised him. That was enough to convince him as he gave you a swift nod.

“Are you sure?” He asked one last time.

“Just tell me.” You said, ready to accept whatever your fate was.

“It’s a little tree on my inner thigh.” He said slowly.

“An olive tree?” You asked.

“Yea, how did you…” Tom trailed off as you lifted your skirt to reveal a delicate olive tree on your inner thigh. Tom stared at the tattoo for a minute before looking up at you. Your chest heaved with nervous breaths as you met his tear filled eyes. Without another word, you lunged for each other and kissed with sweet devotion.

After you fell sleep that night, Tom snuck into the bathroom with a sharpie. He skillfully drew a little olive tree on his inner thigh and made a mental note to get it tattooed there for real. The day you’d gone swimming, also known as the day you saw Toms tattoo, Tom had seen the little olive tree on your inner thigh. Even though it crushed him that his soulmate tattoo was a mockingbird and didn’t match yours, he wasn’t going to let it stop him from being with you.

Maybe the universe got it wrong.

He was so sure his soulmate was you, why else would his tattoo be a reference to your favorite book? So he decided to lie. He’d tell you the mockingbird tattoo was a drunk mistake. He’d tell you he also had an olive tree. He’d tell you you were his soulmate. He’d tell you anything to make sure you never found out the truth. And most of all, he’d hope and pray he never came across a girl with a mockingbird tattoo.

Part two

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mostlymobilegames · 3 years

Text

I will win.

warnings: younger!Fencio, mentions of pain?? I think that's about it

summary: Unclaimed!Rebecca being herself

author's note: i get nostalgic about Rebecca every time I enter the app, this is just some ??backstory?? idk, i just missed her and I forced myself to not let this idea marinate in my notes for 29 years

•

My legs burn as I land on the ground violently again. Dust and rocks fly in every direction as I try to calm down.

Everything hurts. My back aches while my wings feel too heavy for it, my eyes are watery, my throat is unbelievably dry, my legs feel like they won’t keep me up for much longer and if I wasn’t so tired I might be bothered by the sweat making my clothes stick to my body. Almost there.

As I prepare to take off once again, something moves in my line of sight, but the wall of dust makes it impossible to see. Not that I need to, I feel him before I even hear his footsteps approaching. I take off immediately, every part of my body hurting in protest, my wings flapping with powerful moves despite the pain as I soar up and for a second I almost enjoy the brief sense of peace. I plunge back to the ground at full speed, my legs nearly giving out as I land once again. Fencio moves his hand leisurely, a strand of long, white hair along with it on accident, and the dust in the air vanishes as I try to compose myself. So much pain.

“Rebecca” he says in greeting, his voice distant but not hostile or arrogant.

“Throne Fencio.”

My voice comes out sharply as I struggle to control my breathing. My legs feel wobbly and I know I look completely unpleasant. I worry about embarrassing myself but Fencio doesn’t seem even a little put off by my current demeanor, although that’s not surprising. After knowing him for a short time, I figured he is not easy to read at all, which I find annoying, given that he usually has such a good read on me. He is either a good actor or there’s nothing worth his reactions. Or maybe I’m not good enough at picking him apart.

“Tomorrow is an important day for you.” So this is why he came.

After that… incident with my first assignment, Fencio kept true to his word. He followed my progress attentively, helped me with my studies and my training, teaching me how to manage without him or anyone and interfering only when necessary. His help never came with the condescension I often got from other immortals, even the low ranked ones, my fellow students, and I always felt the need to prove myself to him because of that. And then to prove myself to anyone who challenges me, but I am not there yet.

“I know.” I say confidently as I can feel my body healing itself slowly. It’s not much but I would be nothing without it, and I know that by tomorrow I’ll be fully recovered.

Fencio says nothing for a moment and I feel uneasy. Something sparkles in his eyes and his lips twitch, which is something he does rarely, but I always notice, and I never know what it means. It’s all gone in an instant and he’s back to his neutral expression, as usual.

“I have no doubt that you’ll kill the Serpent and that it will improve your reputation greatly” he pauses and I feel something inside me stir. Does he actually think I’ll fail and he’s just being nice?

The thought of Fencio seeing me as a disappointment makes me angry, but I know that can’t be true. He noticed my potential, my drive from the beginning and took me under his wing. I worked and I work hard for everything, but I know I would have never gotten this far, this quick without him. Some days I feel like he sees me like his part-time project, someone to mold into a better immortal because he decided it’s his responsibility. Other days I can consider him my confidant, since calling him a friend seems out of line, but Fencio has done nothing to betray my trust. Most days however, he is, without a doubt, my mentor, and now I feel ashamed for questioning his intentions, even if his attitude is making me wary.

“I won’t be able to attend the competition due to some personal matters, but I’ll seek you out afterwards as soon as I can.” he says and I feel immediate relief. I was worrying for nothing.

“Of course.” I respond and he shifts as if to signify he wants to leave.

“I’ll let you finish your workout. Don’t stay up too late. Rest well and… good luck.”

I nod and scoff internally, he says nothing more but makes no move to leave.

Suit yourself then. I turn around and walk a few steps away from him so I can properly spread my wings, and take off, glad that the pain still lingers but is much more bearable. I swear I can feel his eyes on me as I ascend, but when I turn around to drop down he isn't there, and I can’t contain my grin any longer.

Good luck? I don’t need luck.

…

I open the window wide as the cold breeze of the night sweeps into my room.

After I finished training and took a well-deserved shower, I went to bed. Even though I wanted to sleep until the morning, my body apparently had other plans and I woke up a few hours later, feeling refreshed and infinitely grateful for my immortal powers and my fast recovering body.

I realize immediately I’m alone in my dorm room. It’s pretty late and dark outside, which means my roommate is out doing something I’d rather not know about, since I doubt she’s training this late. She better not bring back any issues with her, I have enough on my plate.

I take a deep breath of fresh air and let it soothe my worries and clear my head. Everything is fine. Cliffs and bits of land levitate in the horizon, poorly illuminated by the moon and the glowing insects of different sizes hanging around them. A giggle is heard somewhere below me but it stops almost instantly, returning the night to its comforting silence. Something moves in the distance, seemingly coming up from behind a tree. I can’t make out who it is, but I am sure the figure is facing me and I recognize the blood red colored wings in a second. They flap lazily in that inviting gesture I’m way too familiar with. There are no demands made, no expectations or formalities to deal with, just the chance to spend some time with him, and I know I have no obligation to accept or respond.

Still, I wait, unmoving. It’s late and the chances of us getting caught together are small, there is no one out there. But what if someone follows me? There are too many immortals that don’t like me and it’s not exactly like I try to make friends. A part of me doesn’t think any of them would go to the extent of actively trying to ruin me, but it’s better to never underestimate the hatred one can build up for someone else. For someone better.

I don’t get to think more about it since he takes my lack of reaction as a refusal and flies back behind the same tree. I should take his leave as a blessing and go to bed, or do something else, but I don’t. I think about what would happen if I got caught, all of my efforts going to waste for the most stupid reason. I think about how everyone who ever doubted me would be right and I’d never get to prove them wrong, and how I could lose everything in the blink of an eye like back on Earth.

I climb the out the window with newfound strength, as I concentrate on my surroundings. There’s no one after me. I spread my wings and jump, hoping no one is staying by the window to witness an Unclaimed breaking curfew. Thankfully, I get there quickly and quietly, and I’m surprised to see Winchesto sitting down, his back against a thick tree trunk. I was sure he left and I would’ve had to find him.

He turns his head towards me and grins, his face full of happiness. Seeing him so glad to see me hurts.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” he says but there isn’t a hint of anything negative in his tone, as if he wouldn’t have blamed me for not following him. I know he wouldn’t have.

I say nothing as I slide down next to him, so close that our sides touch. The contact is small and delicate, barely there, but it feels like a battle is starting inside me. I turn to look at him as he does the same, our faces so close I can’t tell if my breathing is so loud or his. Winchesto’s eyes are gentle and there’s something so peaceful behind them, something that makes it so easy to relax. This could end us both. I tense up as my thoughts go in the wrong direction again. He notices and, as if reading my mind, he backs away a little and I feel awful, even though I know it’s for the best. For both of us.

“I’ll cheer for you tomorrow.” he breaks the silence, like I didn’t just reject him indirectly moments ago.

I laugh, but it sounds forced even to my own ears.

“That would raise some eyebrows.” I say half jokingly, half concerned and Winchesto shrugs, as if nothing could ever get him in trouble.

“Angels and demons get excited for this too, even if they don’t participate. If you think about it, they probably enjoy it more than their usual competitions, because they get the entertainment without the repercussions of losing. Many of them pick their favorites among the Unclaimed so they can place bets on them or just make a big deal out of whoever wins and gloat.”

“Did you bet on me?” I ask genuinely curious but Winchesto ignores my question.

“My point is: no one will care if I cheer for you, they’ll all be busy cheering too... or booing.”

I laugh honestly as he smiles sweetly, the tension from before long forgotten. We sit in silence after that, looking every now and then at each other, and neither of us seems to mind it. Neither of us feels like the silence is painful and that it needs to be disrupted and I realize, in that moment, that Winchesto is so dear to me, that I trust him so much, that I want to be around him and share everything with him, knowing he’d never use anything against me. I want to tell him about my worries, about my goals, about my pain and my life from before, about how I’ll achieve everything I’ve ever wanted and how I’ll be at the top. For a second, I even want to tell him about how I scouted the path to the Serpent and memorized every detail, or how I’ve hidden weapons along the way into the secluded spots I found in case I run out of energy.

But I don’t. I don’t tell him anything, and the part of me that’s been trying to keep me at bay, the part that I’ve cultivated so carefully knows I am doing what’s right. For both of us. It’s safe for Winchesto to not know what could hurt him, even if he’d like to know as much as I’d like to tell.

It’s late.

I stand up abruptly, dusting myself off while he continues to sit, looking at me calmly. I start walking away, knowing how it looks and hoping he doesn’t feel the hurt as much as me. I don’t want to leave like this, but I feel lost and I don’t know how to deal with it.

“Good night, Rebecca.” he whispers loud enough for me to hear it.

I let out a breath I haven’t realized I’ve been holding on and turn my head to look at him. He’s still sitting comfortably, looking unfazed and I’m glad. I’m glad it’s not that bad for him, or maybe he just takes it better than me.

“You should bet on me tomorrow. I will win.” is the only thing I say to him before taking off, leaving him there and not looking back.

#also sorry for any mistakes #i finished this on like 4 hours of sleep😴#romance club #heaven's secret #fanfic #my writing

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idiopath-fic-smile · 4 years

Text

an In Defiance of all Geometry coda

another installment in the “donate at least $25 to a BLM-related cause and i’ll write at least 250 words of fic” series, which is still ongoing!

Somehow, even with all of their belongings packed into boxes, even after surviving the arduous project of putting said belongings into said boxes (how do people acquire so many things over the course of daily life? It’s hard to fathom) Combeferre can barely believe they’re moving out of Amis House.

“Well,” says Combeferre, swallowing past a lump in his throat.

“Well,” says Enjolras, placing a firm and reassuring hand on Combeferre’s shoulder.

“Uh hey, can I get through?” says Marius, and Combeferre moves away, feeling a pang of the usual guilt that manifests specially when he forgets about Enjolras’s roommate.

(Usually, this comes accompanied by white-hot embarrassment because usually it comes up when Combeferre fails to recall Marius’s presence for long enough to start getting physical with Enjolras, or occasionally Grantaire. There’s a reason Grantaire, Combeferre, and Enjolras spend so much of their time in Combeferre’s single, and it’s partly just so Combeferre has a place to let his blushes disperse. Marius is a nice enough person to never give Combeferre a difficult time about these little misadventures, but for one thing, it is humiliating to have to apologize to someone so repeatedly, disastrously wrong about the legacy of Ronald Reagan.)

(No, Combeferre is never letting that go. It’s Reagan.)

Grantaire appears in the doorway. “Bahorel’s truck is ready to go,” he announces. Bahorel has agreed to help the three of them move to their new two-bedroom in exchange for a loaf of homemade banana bread and “ten points.” Bahorel has absolutely refused to explain what the points are, or how or when they might be redeemed.

“Oh, you’ll know,” Bahorel had said, which might’ve sounded ominous, except there was a kitten in his shirt pocket at the time, specifically Jehan’s new all-black kitten which Jehan claimed off-handedly was “a down payment in future witchery” but whose name, as far as Combeferre could determine, was Semicolon, and Combeferre is struck anew by the force of how much he’ll miss living with nearly all his friends within arm’s reach.

“Oh hey, are there feelings happening in here?” Grantaire asks with a gentle smile, a smile that laughs with and not at. “Hey Marius.”

“Hey,” says Marius.

“We had so many good years in this place,” says Combeferre quietly.

“True,” says Grantaire, “and think of the better years to come.”

Enjolras shoots him an impressed look, and Combeferre can’t avoid a smile at that.

“Oh, to be clear, I’m not growing as a person,” says Grantaire, “I just like to practice a little something called reverse-nostalgia.”

“How does it work?” Comebeferre asks as the three of them make their first trip out to the truck.

“Easy,” Grantaire says, straining a little under the weight of his box but gallantly not letting it show. “You say, ‘How can we leave a place so full of good memories?’ and then I say, ‘Hey Combeferre, remember that time the heat broke in the dead of winter and we all had to cuddle together in the common room like a litter of orphaned puppies?’”

“Of course he remembers that night,” says Enjolras, voice a little rumbly and Combeferre ducks his head in a way that reminds Grantaire, oh right, that was when those two crazy kids got together.

“Okay,” Grantaire perseveres, dropping his box in Bahorel’s flatbed. “But do you remember when we had all those guest co-opers and that white dude with dreadlocks was a total asshole?”

“Undoubtedly Enjolras remembers,” says Combeferre, grinning, “because that was when he started to realize he had feelings for you.”

Grantaire is very glad he’s not still carrying a box because all those breakable valuables would be toast.

“What?”

“Have you never heard that story?” Combeferre asks. “We’ll have to fill you in sometime.”

“Reverse-nostalgia is harder than it sounds,” Enjolras observes, giving Grantaire a playful shove and Grantaire has to suppress a smile because he knows it’s a weird thing to be smiley about, but both of them being relaxed enough and confident enough to mess around is still a little new and exciting.

“Okay,” says Grantaire, “okay, but remember the gnarly ant infestation we had last spring? The new place looked promisingly bug-free.”

“Fair point,” says Enjolras as Combeferre shudders. “Reverse-nostaliga has its charms.”

The new place feels gigantic, even once all their possessions are moved in, even compared to the enormity of Amis House. It takes Enjolras a second to locate the emotion: it feels so expansive because it’s theirs. Just theirs. It feels like a betrayal of socialist principles, but Enjolras will not miss, for example, the prospect of Marius walking in at any time.

They all stand there a moment, in the middle of what will be the living room, just taking it in.

“Reverse-nostalgia,” says Combeferre. “Romanticize the future,” and Enjolras can tell by the set of Combeferre’s mouth that it’s a quote, although he’s unsure of the source. He agrees, at any rate.

“Shall we?” Enjolras says, and with that, they start unpacking.

They’ve been at it maybe five minutes when Enjolras finds a box labelled “ART SHIT” and dutifully starts to carry it to the room they’ve designated Grantaire’s studio. It’s not big, but Grantaire has made several approving comments about the light, and then hearteningly few self-deprecating jokes about being the kind of person who cares about the light.

“Hey,” says Grantaire, appearing at his elbow. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure what?” says Enjolras.

“It wouldn’t be that hard to get a futon.” Grantaire’s chewing his lip a little.

Enjolras sets down the box. “Hey Combeferre!” he calls. “Grantaire’s doubting his place in the triad again!”

Combeferre walks into the room.

“He said he wants to sleep alone,” says Enjolras, and Combeferre makes the correct concerned face.

“No!” says Grantaire. “No, no, to be clear that is not what I’m doing.” He pauses. “I just, don’t you think, maybe it should look like two people here are dating and one person is the awkward third wheel, in case any relatives come to visit?”

“You’ve met my mom,” Combeferre says mildly. “You know that the day after your first gallery show she asked if it would be offensive to knit a Christmas stocking for a Jewish person. You’re in.”

Grantaire does that thing where he tries hard to pretend he isn’t glowing and turns to Enjolras. “You have relatives,” he says doggedly. “They don’t sound like they’d approve--”

“They probably wouldn’t,” says Enjolras. Then, “We talked about this. We have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of and that means we have nothing to hide. If anyone in my life can’t deal with me dating two people I love and who love me, then they’re cordially invited to exit my life.”

“Shit,” says Grantaire, “you’re glorious when you’re like this, you know that? And same, same, you put it well.”

“So then what’s the problem?” says Combeferre.

Grantaire hesitates. “Maybe I just, uh, needed a little reassurance?” he manages, and despite his protestations, he is clearly growing as a person.

Combeferre and Enjolras share a look, and then they’re on him, a tangle of frantically fond arms that resolves into a three-way hug. Combeferre has said before that the three-person hug is a great argument for their particular model of polyamory, and Enjolras has to agree.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this with you,” Enjolras murmurs into Grantaire’s hair. He feels Grantaire nod. “Also, we’re not letting you out until you accept that you will never, ever be the awkward third wheel of this equation.”

“Hey,” says Grantaire, laughing as Combeferre and Enjolras both hold firm, “you know it’s a process.”

“We know,” says Combeferre. “Thai for dinner tonight?”

“Sounds great,” says Grantaire, and Enjolras nods, ready to start goddamn romanticizing the future.

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