#first time attempting a more complex background like that. i’m happy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuttling · 3 years

Text

Stay at Home DILF

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,863 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Oral sex, Fingering, Unprotected sex, A little angsty by accident Summary: Aaron retires from the BAU when the new baby is born, but a year later the lack of structure, sleep, and time for himself means changes to his body he's not very proud of. When the thought of having another child is brought up, how will he and his wife work through his insecurities to make the perfectly imperfect, happy family? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Honey, I have to get going—do you need me to drop Jack off at school, or are you good?” Professor Hotchner slides her foot into a flesh-toned pump, leaning against the kitchen table for support and stealing a grape from Jack’s fruit salad. He narrows his eyes, then sticks out his tongue, and she does the same. “Do you want me to starve, Jackrabbit?”

“You won’t starve. Get your own grapes.” So full of sass, that one. Seven is such a fun age. She decides to blame the mixture of Aaron’s genes and Haley’s, and she pulls out her phone to send Haley a quick text.

Your son is a menace in the morning.

Haley: Gets that from his dad.

Aaron enters the kitchen, holding their one year old daughter Mia, and he sticks her in her highchair, puts her breakfast in front of her, and leans toward his wife.

“I’m good, I’ll take him,” he says, and kisses her lips. “Mia and I will take big brother Jack to school, won’t we?” Mia is obsessed with Jack—her first word was Jack, or rather, Ack, which was super cute—so she giggles happily, and her mother can’t help but smile. Their little family is absolutely perfect.

She leans in for another kiss from Aaron, and then another, and then maybe one more...

“You’re getting distracted,” Jack says, and she looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, then back to Aaron. He shrugs.

“It was on one of his vocabulary sheets.” Figures.

“Well, maybe I find my boys distracting. Let me give you kisses and we’ll find out!” She launches herself at him, kissing his head and his cheeks, and he laughs, and she knows she’s going to be late for work, but she can’t pass up moments like these, she just can’t.

She gives him a hug and tells him to have a good day, then she kisses Mia, and then she puts her arms around Aaron’s neck and kisses him goodbye. Before she pulls away, something comes over her—the warmth of this perfect morning, the overwhelming love for both of their sassy, silly kids, or maybe the fact that they’ve been too busy for sex lately and she’s constantly horny for him—and she looks up at him and whispers, “we should have another baby.”

Aaron grins immediately.

“Yeah we should.” They kiss a few more times, quickly, smiling against each other's lips, and he pats her hip because he knows she has to go. “We’ll talk more later, but yes. I want to. I love you.” He takes her face in his hands and kisses her deeply, and she sighs, grabs her bags, and heads out the door. Work is work; as the youngest professor in the English department, her schedule is jam packed with classes, lectures, morning office hours, but despite all that, it seems that Aaron is having the more difficult day.

They both love that he was able to retire from the BAU early to be a stay at home dad when Mia was born—he does consult for them occasionally, but has no official title, doesn’t have to travel—and he’s amazing at it, but she knows her baby can be a handful even on a good day. The texts she’s been getting all morning only solidify that knowledge.

Aaron: FYI - Mia hates bananas this week.

Aaron: What do they put in this applesauce, crack? She’s tearing around here like a bat out of hell.

Aaron: Okay, she’s your child, I officially renounce her. I put on The White Album and she started crying.

Maybe she prefers Abbey Road?

Aaron: No. Unlike her mother, she has taste.

You wound me, Hotchner.

She works through lunch, grading papers on The Call of the Wild, but when Aaron’s name lights up the display on her phone, she puts her pen down and smiles, puts it on speaker.

She’s sorry she did, because Mia is wailing in the background, and it’s very clearly her, I’m exhausted, asshole, leave me alone, cry, which makes her wonder why she’s not taking a nap. She knows she resists Aaron sometimes, doesn’t want him to leave her alone in her room, which is so sweet and also so, so annoying.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you having a little trouble over there?” He takes a deep breath and sighs.

“She won’t go down, baby, even if I sit in the rocking chair beside her. It’s been twenty minutes.” Wow. He put up with it longer than she would have.

“Put her in her crib with Stuffy Bear and just let her cry; I know you hate that, but she’ll give up eventually.” He groans softly.

“I can’t; I feel so bad.”

She smiles. Her warm-hearted man.

“She does this because she knows you’ll give in and do whatever she wants. I promise you, she’ll be happier for it; she sounds miserable.”

“I don’t know…” he says, and she can tell he’s not going to do it. She picks up her pen and skims the paper she abandoned.

“Are you tired?” She doesn't wait for an answer, because she knows he is: Jack had a bad dream last night and woke them both up, and Aaron went to lay with him until he fell asleep because he knew she had an early morning. It was almost time for her alarm when he made it back to bed. “If you want to try to nap, she’s going to have to nap. Do it for her, yourself, me, a combination of the three of us. She won’t be mad at you; she won’t even remember.”

“What if I give her abandonment issues?” he presses, and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“Aaron, I love you so much. You’re such a great dad, and our kids are lucky to have you. But you have to loosen the reins just a little, especially if… if we are going to have another baby.” The thought makes her smile, and she can tell he’s smiling down the line, too.

“Right. Loosen the reins. Just put her in her crib,” she can hear that he does that, “and give her Stuffy Bear, and let her cry.” He blows out a breath, and she can hear the door click shut behind him as he leaves her room. She’s proud of him, but she also knows he’s going to sit in front of the video monitor and watch to make sure she falls asleep, and that he’ll probably work on laundry after that and not actually take a nap of his own.

He insists he’s doing fine when she brings it up, but the way he sacks out like a corpse when they get into bed doesn’t exactly have her convinced.

“I love you, and miss you,” he says when it’s slightly quieter, though she can faintly hear the cries through the monitor. “It made me really happy this morning when you said we should have another baby. We make perfect babies, have you noticed?” She hides her grin behind her hand, because if anyone walked by her office they’d think she’s insane with how widely she’s smiling.

“I have noticed, but since we only have the one and I can’t take any credit for Jack, I figured we should probably make another. Maybe the same way we made Mia…” They’re both convinced it was a weekend when Jack was at Haley’s and the two of them went to town on each other, true marathon sex where they only stopped for food and water and she coaxed him to hardness so many times she felt like a damn sex goddess.

“Hmm. I remember that with fondness, and would love to do that again. You know Haley said she’d take Mia on one of Jack’s weekends if we ever needed her to.”

Her life is pretty damn perfect, with her gorgeous, caring husband, and her two awesome kiddos, and a job she loves, but the most unexpectedly sweet part is that Haley is so comfortable with her, and that she and Aaron were able to get past the ugliness of their divorce to eventually become friends again. It’s not something they take for granted.

“Maybe we should take her up on it this weekend,” she says, trying to sound a little sultry. “We’ve both been so busy; it’s been a while since you pet my kitty.” For some reason, this particular phrase makes Aaron blush and get insanely horny, and she’s hoping to tease him so much the rest of the week that their weekend is one neither of them ever forget, so she’s pulling out the big guns.

“It’s been far too long, and I’m sorry. I can’t wait, baby. I’ll call her here in a few; I know you have to get to your next lecture.” She looks down at her watch, and it is about time to clean up and head over. She sighs happily down the line.

“Okay, I love and miss you; try to take a power nap. I promise, she’ll be fine.”

“I will.” He won’t. “Talk to you soon.” When she gets home, Aaron has dinner ready; she told him to hold off, that she’d help when she got there, but he has always been an overachiever.

Mia is already in her high-chair, waiting patiently for once in her little life; she kisses her forehead, breathes in her sweet baby smell, and then makes her way to her husband.

“Looks good, honey,” she says as he sets the table, and she leans up for a kiss, but when she presses her hand to his stomach like she always does, he pulls back a little. “Is everything okay? Did you have a bad afternoon?”

“No, it wasn’t bad after the nap fiasco,” he responds, but he sounds distracted. Maybe he was asked to look at a case, or something, and that’s still on his mind? She leans against his shoulder, puts a hand on his back and attempts to push up his t-shirt, to skim her hand up along his spine, which always comforts him, but again, he shifts away from her touch. She sighs and steps back.

“You're going to give me a complex, Aaron. If I did something to upset you, please tell me so I can apologize and try to make it better.” He turns to look at her face, and his formerly tense jaw softens a little; he presses his lips to hers, just a peck.

“No, you didn’t do anything. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” He smiles softly, and she’s sure he is tired, but this seems like something more.

“You’d tell me if something else was bothering you, right? You know I’m here for you.”

“Of course I would, and of course I do. I love you,” he breathes against her mouth, and then he goes in for a longer kiss and she gets, as Jack said earlier, a little distracted. When the kiss breaks, she sighs happily.

“I love you. Missed those lips,” she murmurs, and then she runs a hand over his hair. “If the kids wake up again tonight, I’ll get them. You need to rest.” He shakes his head.

“You have another full day tomorrow,” he counters, and it’s so sweet that he keeps up with the schedule she has posted on the fridge, but still. She puts her hand on her hip.

“And you don’t? It’s my turn. Let me help.” He looks like he wants to argue, but she gives him the glare he knows means she will talk about this all night if he doesn’t agree; she’s not the sponsor of the university’s debate team for nothing, and even his prosecutorial ways have nothing on her.

“Okay,” he sighs, and she smiles and kisses him and then goes to get Jack and make sure he’s cleaned up for dinner.

That night when the two of them are getting ready for bed, she’s surprised as hell when he stops her from pulling one of his t-shirts—her typical sleepwear—over her head. She sets it down, arches her brow, and he guides her back onto the bed with a grin and puts his hands on her hips.

“What’s happening right now?” she asks, because before Mia, sure, Aaron would treat her to all manner of orgasm-inducing behavior at random, and she would do the same, but since Mia—especially in the last six months or so—their sexual encounters have been few and far between. It’s no one’s fault, and they’re both very clearly still attracted to each other; it’s just one of those things that falls by the wayside when you have a new baby and a hectic life and you don’t get enough sleep.

Needless to say, she is a little confused by this turn of events.

“I’m attempting to worship my gorgeous fucking wife,” he murmurs, and he leans up and kisses her stomach, licks a long line up from her belly button. Her breath hitches. “Gonna put another little baby in here—but it’s always beautiful.” He slowly moves his lips higher, over her ribcage, and holds her there. “You’re perfect, you know?”

“Aaron.” Her fingers come up to sweep through his hair; her heart aches with love and tenderness. He moves up, presses open-mouthed kisses to each of her breasts, then covers them with his hands and squeezes. She’s a panting, dripping mess, and more than anything she wants to strip him naked, pull him closer, get him inside her.

“I love you just as you are; I want you just as you are. Always have, always will.” He smooths his hands up over her throat, and brings her mouth to his for a deep, soulful kiss. She hadn’t even realized she’s been feeling repressed, but his touch tonight makes her feel so beautiful and special… It's incredible how close she is from only that.

“Make love to me,” she whispers, and he kisses her again, but then he slides back down her body.

“Want to taste you,” he says instead, and he gets his hands on her hips again and his mouth on her pussy, looks up at her while he licks and sucks like he’s gone without for ages—which he has, she figures, but it’s blowing her mind, her fingers scratching at the sheets, her neck arched. He massages her hips as his tongue works, as he grinds against the bed, and she comes with a whimper, because her body is so overwhelmed by how good she feels that she can’t even properly vocalize it.

Aaron comes up, just a little, rests his head on her stomach, and she smooths her hands over his hair and his shoulders, since that’s all she can reach.

“Come up and let me touch you—or you can come inside me.” She will happily take either option, but he just kisses her belly and shakes his head.

“No, I’m good. Just really tired.” She frowns, can’t recall a time in her life when they didn’t both get off during sex; he catches her expression and runs his hands up her body. “Really, I’m okay. I just wanted to do that before I passed out.” He smiles, and she doesn’t like it, but he climbs off of her and goes to the bathroom, and she pulls on the t-shirt and crawls into bed. Two days later, she’s sitting in her office grading tests when she hears a knock at the door. She looks up, and it’s Aaron, of course, looking so gorgeous in a black polo and jeans.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Where’s Mia?” she asks with a smile. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“She’s with her Aunt Penelope for a few hours.”

“Why? Is everything okay?” Penelope is at work, she knows, because she texted her earlier about something unrelated and she’d mentioned that she and Spencer were having coffee and that he said hello.

“Everything‘s fine,” he assures her, and he enters the room fully, closes the door behind him… and locks it. “Can’t your husband come visit you during your super secret not-really-office-hours?” She raises an eyebrow, both at his question and the fact that he locked the door. What exactly is he planning to do, she wonders?

“You can, but you don’t. I guess I’m just surprised.”

“Well today I decided to. I missed you so much.” He walks around her desk and leans over her for a couple of kisses. “Have you missed me?” She rolls her eyes, smiles.

“Of course I missed you. I miss you every second I’m away from you.” She reaches out, wants to hug him, pull him closer, but he takes a step back and crooks his finger, encouraging her to follow him.

He’s being really weird, but he’s also being really hot. She decides to play along.

She stands, walks over to him, and he carefully clears a spot on her desk, knows she has a system and doesn’t like a mess; when she’s within reach, he puts his hands on her waist and lifts her up onto it, her ass where a stack of tests had just been. Fuck.

“I want to get this dress off of you,” he says, voice low, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses her, rough and deep. “Can I take it off, baby? Can I make you come?”

Everything is happening so fast her head is spinning—it’s not like him to just show up at her office, to try to have sex with her there, especially when their dry spell has been, up until recently, like the damn Sahara.

He must sense her confusion, her apprehension, because he kisses slowly along the side of her throat, down the v-neck of her dress, making her eyelids flutter.

“The door’s locked, and no one even knows we’re in here. Can I take it off?” She pants, thinks about this for a second, but then he slides a hand over her thigh, pushing her skirt up, and she gets a little distracted. She nods, and he kisses her hard and unties the sash of her wrap dress, pushes it off her shoulders. She’s glad she wore a matching set of bra and panties, because this is like prime fantasy material and she wants to try to remember every detail.

He kisses her mouth, soft and sweet, then tugs the straps of her bra down her shoulders, pulls the cups down so her breasts fall out of them. She moans, a little startled, and he dips his head to mouth at her nipples, rests one hand on her lower back and one on her stomach—probably because she looks like she’s about to slide off the desk and onto the floor like a blob of jelly. She knows that’s how she feels.

When he’s gotten her thoroughly worked up, almost trembling with the need for more, he pushes her panties aside and presses a finger into her, and she whimpers, wraps her hand around his neck for support when he starts to pump it deeply inside.

“What has gotten into you?” she breathes, and her hips chase the pleasure he brings; the hand on her back moves to her ass, squeezes it.

“I love you and I want you. I want to make you happy, I want you to feel good.”

“Me—me too,” she gasps as he moves faster, staring right into his eyes. “I love you, want you. Want to make you happy, feel good.” She cards her fingers through his hair and stretches for a desperate, eager kiss. “I want you so badly, baby, please.”

“I’m right here. You have me,” he murmurs, but that’s not what she means and he has to know it. Just in case he doesn’t, though, she makes herself loud and clear; relationships are all about communication, after all.

“I want you to put your cock in my pussy, I want you to come in me. I want you to fucking ruin me, Aaron, I want you to shove your dick in me and keep shoving.” She sounds unhinged, but she can’t stop.

He adds a second finger—not what she wants—and roughly gropes her breast—it feels so good, but it’s not what she wants. Why won’t he give her what she wants?

“Shh, just come on my hand, it’s okay. I’ll fuck you later, in our bed, baby,” he promises. “Just come now, okay? Right here, right now for me.”

She does, because even if he’s being unnecessarily aggravating, it’s still Aaron. She’s desperate for him, always has been, always will be. She comes loud and high and she clutches him tightly and he kisses her and coos words of love and affection into her ear. She gets cleaned up, and they go for lunch, and they can’t take their eyes off each other.

Something’s very wrong, and she can’t quite put her finger on it.

That evening when she gets home, Aaron is feeling guilty. She’s not sure why, but he’s executing all of his patented guilty trademark behaviors: he offers her a glass of wine, runs her a bath, rubs her feet, even though he’s been the one home with the baby all day. She’s tempted to ask if he’s cheating on her, as a joke, but that’s never funny, especially when she knows he’s being shifty and weird about something.

When they’re laying in bed, he sets down his book and looks over at her.

“I meant to tell you, Haley isn’t able to take Mia tomorrow. Maybe the weekend after, we can have our special alone time.” She won’t say she’s not disappointed, but she doesn’t want to inconvenience Haley, when she’s already being so great. She smiles softly, covers his hand with hers.

“That’s okay. It was short notice, anyway. I’ll still enjoy my weekend, with you and Mia.” He smiles too, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes.

The kids sleep through the night, but she doesn’t. On Friday, she picks Jack up from school and takes him to Haley’s, who sends him to wash up so she can make him a snack. When he’s gone, she smiles warmly and invites her into the kitchen for coffee; she takes a cup, and they make pleasant small talk like they always do.

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring Mia over?” Haley asks after a few minutes. It sounds like she’s double checking. “It’s really no trouble.” She frowns, sets her cup down.

“I thought you weren’t able to watch Mia this weekend. I thought… I thought that’s what Aaron said. I must have misunderstood him.” That’s the only logical conclusion, because Aaron wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t.

“He was being a little weird on the phone the other day. He asked me if I would watch her, and I said yes. He told me about your plans,” she says with raised eyebrows, “and then I told him, you know. That he better treat you right, because you just had a baby not that long ago and you might be a little self-conscious about jumping back into the sack like that; not that you should be, because you look amazing.” She racks her brain for the first time he started acting strangely, pulling away from her, and it would have been after his conversation with Haley. She asks, just to confirm.

“Is that when he got weird?”

“Actually yeah. He changed his mind, said you might not need me to watch her after all, but I told him the offer stood. He was pretty quick to get off the phone after that.” She would sip her coffee, but she’s pretty sure her hands are shaking. Why would he lie about that?

“You know, I should go. I’m sure Aaron’s pulling his hair out with her, she’s been a devil today. Tell Jack I love him and I’ll talk to him tonight, will you?”

“Of course. If you change your mind about Mia, just let me know,” Haley says, and she gets into her car with tears stinging her eyes.

When she gets home, Aaron is playing with Mia on the living room floor. He looks up at her with a smile that abruptly falls when he takes in her facial expression.

“What’s wrong?” She composes herself, takes a deep breath. They vowed a long time ago not to argue in front of Jack or Mia. She tries to sound conversational.

“You lied to me. You said Haley couldn’t take Mia this weekend.” He swallows and looks properly guilty. She’s not sure how he was able to lie to her in the first place; he’s never been any good at it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just didn’t know how to say it.” She looks up, shakes her head, wills her eyes not to water while she’s trying to have this conversation.

“You didn’t know how to say what? What is it that’s made you distance yourself from me?” She recalls him physically pulling away, then doing a complete 180 and initiating sex, but never penetrative sex, never letting her touch him or return the favor in any way. “Haley told me about your conversation. So do you think I’m unhappy with my body, or are you unhappy with my body?” He has the nerve to look confused, gets Mia set up with some toys she can play with safely on her own and stands up, comes close to her. She’s not sure she even wants his touch right now, which is saying something; when she’s unhappy, that’s usually all she wants.

“Neither of those things. I swear to god. I love you and I love your body; you’re so beautiful. Too beautiful for me, you always have been.” He’s looking down at her so seriously, and she wants so badly to believe him, but how could she, when faced with the evidence?

“Okay. If it’s neither of those things…” Her voice is small when she says the one option that hurts her most. “Did you change your mind? Do you not want to have another baby with me?” He sighs, deflates, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“No, listen to me. It’s not that I don’t want that; I want that more than anything, but it will… further complicate, things...” He trails off, and she tries to follow what he’s saying. “The problem isn’t you in any way. It’s me.” She huffs, squeezes her eyes briefly shut.

“You? How can it be you, when you’ve been the only man to catch my eye for years? From the moment you set foot on my campus looking for your bad guy, I’ve been attracted to you, aroused by you, wrapped around your finger. You’re so perfect for me: perfect husband, perfect dad, perfect lover. My best friend. Never a day has gone by where I haven’t wanted you.” He wets his lips, sighs.

“Surely you’ve noticed that since I quit my job and started staying home with Mia, I… I don’t look the same. I’ve… let myself go.” His brows are deeply furrowed, and he’s clearly struggling with this; she reaches for him, no longer angry—at least for the time being—puts a hand on his arm.

“I’ve noticed that you don’t quite look the same. Doesn’t mean you’ve ‘let yourself go,’ or that I’m not still attracted to you; you just have a dad bod now instead of an ‘FBI guy who punches people for a living’ bod.” Her other hand hovers, then comes to rest on his stomach, and she smiles. “I’m actually really into the way you look now. I’ve been fantasizing about it for ages. I wish I’d known you were feeling self-conscious.”

“I’m not used to feeling… self-conscious, vulnerable,” he breathes, but he presses into her touch, so she considers that a good thing. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I get that baby, I do, but this is me. I would have done anything I could to make you feel better. You didn’t have to hide it from me. You didn’t have to lie. We could have talked about it.” She moves the hand on his arm to his face, guides him down for a loving kiss. “We’re equally to blame, because I know you haven’t been getting good sleep, and I know you barely have time for yourself, and I didn’t step in; but you never let me help. If roles were reversed, and it was me staying home with Mia, you would never expect me to do all the cooking and cleaning and homework and bath time without your help. So you need to let me help, Aaron, please.” She looks up at him, eyes warm and sincere, and he nods, bends to press a kiss to her lips.

“I’m sorry. I still don’t feel great about… myself, but maybe I could. If I let you help. If I took some time for me.” She nods and wraps her arms around him—finally—for a hug.

“I love you so much. Just like this. Big, cuddly papa bear, taking care of our babies, making our home a safe and happy place for them. How could I not love the body that brings me so much happiness? That makes me excited to get in my car and come home at the end of every day?”

They kiss some more, deep, healing kisses and soft, sweet kisses, but she doesn’t get distracted by them. She’s very focused, caresses him and brushes loving fingertips over his chest and arms and sides. But speaking of distractions…

“Were you doing all those sexy things to try to distract me from wanting you to get all up on me?” she asks, pulling back, and at least he has the decency to flush.

“Kind of? I figured if it was sex you wanted, you’d be happy to get off however it happened; it was great for me too, don’t get me wrong, I just didn’t really want to be touched, feeling the way I felt.” She frowns, rests her head against his chest and holds him tighter.

“That makes me sad. What I wanted was an intimate moment with my husband, and while yes, what you did for me was great, because you’re super hot and very capable,” she says, leaning back in his embrace with a soft smile, “it’s not what I’ve been wanting. I want you all naked and sweaty and heavy on top of me, going to pound town.” He presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows.

“Pound town? What are you, twelve?” She grins, shoves his chest, and he laughs.

“I’m surrounded by college kids all day, please forgive me. I think it got my message across though.” She touches his cheek, looks up into his eyes, and sighs. “Can we take Mia over to Haley’s and give it a shot? I’ll do anything to make you feel happy and comfortable, any position that makes you feel better—though what I’d really like most, if you’ll trust me, is to suck your dick, and then hop on your dick, and then later when we’re ready to go again, we do the pound town thing and make another goddamn baby.”

She’s so serious, and he looks so serious, and then he kisses her and says yes and they pack up their kid and take her to his ex-wife’s so they can get it on, which sounds so much crazier than it actually is. She gets him out of his clothes, doesn’t move slow or spend lots of time focusing on what he thinks are flaws; instead, she proves how desirable he is by practically tearing his pants off and pushing him against the bed and swallowing around his dick just so she can hear all those delicious moans she’s been missing.

After that, she rides him hard, kisses him harder, plants her hands on his chest and stomach and moans and groans against his mouth. “So fucking hot, seriously so fucking hot, Aaron—if I saw you across the room today I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing, I would still pursue you, I’d make you blush like I did back then. I’d be so forward because I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how good this would feel.”

She’s rocking his world, no doubt about that; it’s written all over his face, in the hardness of his hands on her hips as she grinds down on his cock, in the way his chest is heaving despite not actually doing any of the work at all. He comes first, and then rubs her clit while she continues to fuck him until she finds her own orgasm; she scratches her nails down his stomach, and he leans up and grabs her face for a rough, perfect kiss.

They take a break, cuddling and kissing and enjoying the feel of bare skin, comfy bed, soft lips. Aaron touches her cheek, tells her how much he loves and appreciates her.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been keeping this inside, and not being truthful. It’s hard, when you’re as perfect as the day I met you, and I’m…” She presses a finger to his lips, shushes him, kisses him.

“You’re as perfect as the day I met you, too. More perfect, even, because every day since then you’ve chosen me, and our family. I could not ask for a better man. Simply could not, Aaron. And if you want me to come home early so you can go to the park to run, or to the gym, then that’s what I'll do, but if you look like you do right now, forever, I’ll be happy with that too. Whatever makes you happy.”

They snuggle and kiss and talk and laugh, and then laughing becomes sex in that way everything becomes sex when you’re genuinely obsessed with the person in your bed.

He gets her on her back, kisses all over, teases her—“mmm, rubbing your kitty, baby, how does it feel?”—and then puts her legs over his shoulders, plants his hands, and fucks, taking every ounce of his pent-up frustration out on her, and it’s incredible.

“Yes, Aaron, yes, baby, oh, god.” Her head is thrown back, and she’s torn between laughing, because she’s been wanting this for months and it’s exactly as awesome as she’d dreamed it would be, and crying, because she fucking loves him, so much it puts a lump in her throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, speeds up, sweaty and gorgeous and smiling. “You’re going to come with me—not just for me, but with me, so my come gets deep inside, so it works and we get another perfect baby who never lets us fucking sleep.” She nods frantically, presses her hips against his, and it’s not simultaneous, but it’s a near damn thing, when they both come groaning each other’s names. A little less than a year later, they have Mason. Aaron is at home in his dad bod, Mia doesn’t cry at naptime, Jack is still a menace in the mornings, and their perfect little family got a little more perfect. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #dad bod hotch

424 notes · View notes

feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

Note

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

#ask #my terrible headcanons #elros #elrond #maglor #elwing #earendil #feanorians #niphredilien #yellow feathered faerie #putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes #post nyanyannya askbox clearout #ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place #and it is DONE #fuck this took forever to write #stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more #this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry #i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation #but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades #the silm's cruel enough we don't need that #narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans #but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for #bleck #let's see how many followers i lose for this

253 notes · View notes

attemptsonherlifepdf · 3 years

Text

bojack horseman and bo burnham: the art of acting like you’re acting and the comedy of misery

at the core of bojack horseman, raphael bob-waksberg’s 2014 comedy, is a story about the relationship between performance and depression. the protagonist of this renowned tragicomedy is best described as a sympathetic villain; he is shown to clearly be in the wrong across various events of the show, and is explicitly referred to as a bad person, but the audience is granted deep access to his personal struggles, resulting in some portions of the audience finding themselves on bojack’s side. the duality of his character is complex, but can be broken down into some core components, that all stem from the impacts of stardom and performance. the standup comedy of bo burnham arguably echoes this sentiment in real time. having been a performer from a young age, burnham creates work that serves as a satirical commentary on the life of entertainers. he uses original songs to explore the reliance upon and resentment for his performative nature both onstage and within his personal life. both the comedian and the netflix show are widely understood to be thinly veiling their critiques of the entertainment industry behind a particular brand of witty and absurd humour.

both bojack and burnham’s content openly criticises their audiences and explicitly states the manufactured nature of the narrative the audience is fed. in the fifth season of bojack horseman, the show satirises itself by having bojack star in a police procedural drama, parts of which are actively written by other characters to reflect events of bojack’s life. the titular character he plays, philbert, is the epitome of selfish male angst, and an example of what bob-waksberg’s show could have been; another story about a sad and angry man whose guilt supposedly makes up for the people he has hurt. according to bojack, philbert teaches us ‘we’re all terrible, so we’re all okay’, an interpretation that is harshly disputed by diane: ‘that’s not the point of philbert, for guys to watch it and feel okay. i dont want you, or anyone else, justifying their shitty behaviour because of the show.’ this moment is a direct reaction to some of the online reception bojack horseman has received. various circles of the show’s fanbase have found themselves relating to the protagonist to the point of defending his untoward behaviour, a response not intentioned by the show’s creators. this is not the only example of bob-waksberg’s ability to make his work self-evaluative. in season six’s exposure of bojack and sarah lynn’s problematic relationship, characters question their sexual encounter from the first season. the writers use this as a way of examining their own choices, and the harmful tropes they played into when using this exploitative sexual encounter as a gag. this self-evaluative quality is what sets bojack apart as a show that assesses the performance it participates in, much like the comedy of bo burnham.

bo burnham is known for directly addressing his audience, particularly in terms of discouraging idolisation and parasocial relationships. some examples of this manifest as responses to hecklers rather than a planned bit in the show, for instance:

heckler: i love you!

bo: no you don’t

heckler: i love the IDEA of you!

bo: stop participating!

he actively addresses the issues posed by being an entertainer, and encourages the audience to understand and recognise that his onstage persona is just that: an exaggerated persona. not once does burnham claim to be fully authentic onstage, and even moments of authenticity we see in his latest special, inside, are staged. we make the assumption that having the physical setting of a stage stripped away grants us a more personal look at the entertainer’s life, but he makes it clear that even in his own home we still see the aspects he has carefully constructed rather than the full truth. arguably though, parts of the show really are authentic; in his monologue during make happy, bo deconstructs his own show in a way that is similar to bojack horseman’s later seasons, admitting that all he knows is performing and thus making a show about the more mundane and relatable aspects of life would feel ‘incredibly disingenuous.’ in his attempts to separate himself from this onstage persona he actually manages to blur the lines between what is acting and what is now part of his nature as a result of his job. this notion is echoed in bojack horseman as bojack’s attention seeking nature is attributed to his years acting in front of a camera every day.

bo suggests that the era of social media has created a space in which children’s identities mimic that of an entertainer like himself, describing the phenomenon as ‘performer and audience melded together.’ in this observation he criticises the phenomenon. bo attempts to force the audience to recognise the ways in which their lives are becoming shaped by the presence of an audience and to some extent uses his own life as a warning tale against this. he points out the way in which the ‘tortured artist trope’ means that your cries for help or roundabout attempts of addressing mature themes such as substance abuse, mental illness and trauma become part of that on stage persona and therefore become part of the joke. both bo and bojack address these topics in more discrete manners earlier in their careers, but this eventually becomes expected, and thus they are forced to explicitly detail their struggles with these topics in order to be taken seriously. even then, portions of the audience are inclined to see it as part of the persona or as something that fuels the creators creativity and thus does not need to be addressed as a legitimate issue. the emphasis on creating a character or persona promotes the commodification of mental illness: any struggle must be made into a song or a joke or a bit, must be turned into part of the act in order to have value. this actually serves to delegitimise these emotions and create a disconnect between the feeling and the person, as it becomes near impossible to exist without feeling as though you are acting. even when an artist’s cries for help become blatant, they continue to go ignored because now they serve the purpose of creating content that criticises the industry they stem from. online audiences can be seen as treating bo burnham and his insightful work as existing to demonstrate the negative effects entertaining can have, and because this insight is useful or thought-provoking to audiences, he is almost demanded to keep entertaining and creating. in response to this demand, his work becomes more meta and his messages become clearer, and the more obvious his messages, the more people he reaches. this increases audience demands and traps entertainers in a cycle fraught with internal conflict.

during bojack’s second season, bojack’s date asks him, ‘come on, do that bojack thing where you make a big deal and everyone laughs, but at the same time we relate, because you're saying the things polite society won't.’ this moment exemplifies how aspects of his genuine personality have now become a part of his persona and this is demanded of him in genuine and serious situations, undermining the validity of his emotional reactions. he immediately makes a rude comment to the waitress at the restaurant they’re in and satisfies his date by performing that character he has set himself out to be. some circles of the fan base have argued that bojack is written as a depiction of somebody with borderline personality disorder, offering a psychoanalytical lens through which to view this notion of performance. a defining symptom of borderline personality disorder is a fluctuating sense of self; having grown up on camera, being demanded to perform to others as young as six years old, bojack’s sense of self will have been primarily dictated by the need to act. whether this acting is for the sake of comedy, or as a representation of masking his mental illness, when they need to act is taken away bojack entirely loses his sense of self and relapses into his addictions: ‘i felt like a xerox of a xerox of a person.’ burnham’s depictions of depression run along a similar vein; in his new special he poses the idea that his comedy no longer serves the same personal purpose it once did for him. he questions ‘shit should I be joking at a time like this?’ and satirises the idea that arts have enough value to change or impact the current global issues that we are facing. burnham’s ‘possible ending song’ to his latest special, he asks ‘does anybody want to joke when no-one’s laughing in the background? so this is how it is.’ implicit in this question is the idea that when the audience is taken away and there is nobody to perform his pain to, he is left with his pain. instead of being able to turn his musings and thoughts into a product to sell to the public, he is forced to just think about them in isolation and actually face them, an abrupt and distressing experience.

the value of performance and art is questioned by both bojack and burnham, particularly during the later years of their respective content. burnham’s infamous song, art is dead, appears to be a direct response to the question ‘what is the worth of art?’ he posits that performing is the result of a need for attention (‘my drug’s attention, i am an addict, but i get paid to indulge in my habit’) and repeatedly jokes throughout his career that the entertainment industry receives more respect that it deserves (‘i’m the same as you, im still doing a job or a service, i’m just massively overpaid’). his revelations regarding the inherent desire for attention that runs through all entertainers is frequently satirised in bojack horseman. bojack is comically, hyperbolically attention hungry and self-obsessed, and the show has a running gag in which he uses phrases along the lines of ‘hello, why is nobody paying attention to me, the famous movie star, instead of these other boring people.’ his constant attempts to direct the focus of others towards himself result in bojack feeling like ‘everybody loves you, but nobody likes you.’ his peers buy into his act and adore the comical, exaggerated, laughable aspects of his character, but find very little room to respond to him on a genuinely personal level because of this. interestingly, bojack appears to enjoy catering to his audience and the instant gratification it produces, whereas bo burnham becomes increasingly candid about his mixed feeling towards his audience. ‘i wanna please you, but i wanna stay true to myself, i wanna give you the night out that you deserve, but i wanna say what i think and not care what you think about it.’ he admits to catering to what audiences want from him, but resents both the audience and himself in the process as it reveals to himself which parts of his character are solely for the sake of people watching him.

within bojack horseman, this concept is applicable not only to the protagonist, but to the various forms of performer demonstrated in the plot. towards the show’s end, sarah lynn asks ‘what does being authentic have to do with anything?’ to which herb kazzaz responds, ‘when i finally stopped hiding behind a facade i could be at peace.’ this highlights the fact that because entertainers are demanded to continue the facade, they do not receive the opportunity to find ‘peace.’ this sentiment is scattered throughout the show, through a musical motif, the song ‘don’t stop dancing.’ the song stems from a life lesson bojack imparted to sarah lynn at a young age, and becomes more frequently used as the show progresses and bojack’s situation worsens.

sarah lynn is also used to explore the value of entertainers; in the show’s penultimate episode, she directly compares her work as a pop icon to the charity work of herb, arguing that if she suffered in order to produce her work. it has to mean something. she lists the struggles she faced when on tour: ‘i gave my whole life...my manager leaked my nudes to get more tour dates added, my mom pointed out every carb i ate, it was hell. but it gave millions of fans a show they will never forget and that has to mean something.’ implicit in this notion is the idea that entertainment is the epitome of self-sacrifice. there is a surplus of mentally ill individuals within the industry, largely due to the nature of the industry itself, but some may argue that the cultural grip the industry has, and the vast amounts of respect and money it generates annually, gives the suffering of these prolific individuals meaning.

the juxtaposing responses entertainers feel towards their audiences manifest as two forms of desperation: the desperation to be an individual who is held accountable, and the desperation to be loved and validated. we see both bojack and bo depict how they oscillate between ‘this is all a lie’ and ‘my affection for my audience is genuine’, or between ‘do not become infatuated with me im a character’ and ‘please fucking love my character i do not know how to be loved on a personal level.’ bojack explicitly asks diane to write a slam piece on him and ‘hold him accountable’, similar to bo’s song ‘problematic’ in which the hook includes the phrase ‘isn’t anybody gonna hold me accountable?’ for his insensitive jokes as a late teenager. their self-awareness is what enables their self-evaluative qualities, but self-awareness is its own issue. bojack grapples with a narcissistic view of his own recognition of his behaviour before settling on a more nuanced, albeit depressing take. originally he makes the assumption that in recognising the negative aspects of himself, he is superior to those who behave similarly: ‘but i know im a piece of shit. that makes me better than all the pieces of shit that don’t know theyre pieces of shit.’ eventually, during his time at rehab he is forced to reconcile with the fact that self awareness does not, to put it bluntly, make you the superior asshole, it just makes you the more miserable one. the show does, however, make a point to recognise how the entertainment industry protects ‘pieces of shit’, prioritising their productive value over how much they deserve to be held accountable, demonstrated using characters like hank hippopoalus. the show itself obviously stems from the entertainment industry, as it is a form of media produced by netflix, one of the most popular streaming platforms available. bojack horseman and bo burnham represent the small corner of the industry that is reflective enough to showcase the damage it inflicts. this is powerful in terms of education and awareness, and urges audiences to question their own motives and versions of performance, but the reflection alone is not powerful enough to help the artists in question. burnham’s candid conversations surrounding his mental health continue to reveal a plethora of issues somewhat caused or sustained by the nature of his career. within bojack horseman, bojack is only able to stop hurting other characters when those characters construct a situation that forces him to face consequence, his introspection alone is not enough. while bojack ends on a message of hope, suggesting to the audience that reverting back to the status quo is not the only acceptable way for events to end, it leaves stinging lessons and social commentary with the audience regarding the unnatural and damaging narrative that performers live through. on a similar but markedly different note, bo burnham’s work and personal progression is playing out in real time, and not in a way that is as raw and genuine as it appears. each bit is planned, even the most vulnerable moments that appear unplanned and painful. his latest special is not entirely devoid of hope, but does translate to audiences as a somewhat exaggerated look around the era of social media and the development of performance, using himself as an example.

the absurdist humour that often acts as a vehicle for poignant statements or emotionally provocative questions is very specific to each media creator. bob-waksberg’s use of puns, tongue twisters and entirely ridiculous circumstances served to simultaneously characterise his points as an expected part of the show’s style of humour, similar to bojack’s emotional instability, but also to make them appear gut-punching in comparison to the humour. burnham’s work is similar in that poignant but blunt statements are often sandwiched between absurd and exaggerated jokes, making them stand out via contrast but not giving the audience too much time to dwell upon them as they are said. performance art is second nature to entertainers, and is presented a an issue that is infiltrating the general population via social media rather than solely affecting the ‘elites’. bojack horseman and bo burnham present the duality of artists simultaneously attempting to level the playing field and increase their chances of survival in the industry, and encourage audiences to know that everyone is bluffing and you’ll never have the right cards anyway.

i.k.b

734 notes · View notes

arvandus · 3 years

Note

Congratulations on the big 500 ^-^ I'm so happy for you! Could I get a fluffy #24 with Dabi, pretty please? 🥺👉👈

I’m finally getting to thissss! I’m so, so sorry for the delay. For some reason I struggled with this one for a while, then suddenly something clicked, and inspiration took over. I really enjoyed writing this, it felt very cathartic. It might feel a little heavy/emotional at first but trust me when I say that it ends with fluff.

#24: You're The Only Thing That Matters

Pairing: Dabi x GN!Reader

Word count: 1825

Warnings: light angst(?), fluff

---------

You hadn’t meant for this to happen. Then again, no one ever does. It’s not like anyone ever plans for their apartment to get broken into, their personal items stolen...

Then again, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, not with a neighborhood like this. But it was the neighborhood you could afford. Now here you are, hanging out across the street at the local market, too afraid to return upstairs to your ransacked home. You don’t have a car to drive yourself to a motel to stay the night, you don’t trust nighttime public transportation, and you don’t have enough money for an Uber. But you have to go somewhere. So, you take your phone and called the first person that comes to mind...

Dabi.

You can’t help but laugh that his number is the first one you think to dial. From the surface it makes sense – you two have been seeing each other, so of course he should be someone you can trust enough reach out to. But this is Dabi. Even with your intimate relationship with each other, he is often distant and, more often than not, entirely unavailable. It doesn’t surprise you too much... he’s a villain, after all, and sometimes that villain life requires him to disappear for periods at a time.

Which is why you are honestly surprised when he picks up.

“What?” he says gruffly, like he doesn’t have your number saved in his phone; he knows it’s you on the other end.

You bite your lip before answering. “Um, hey, Dabi. It’s me.”

Already you’re struggling to keep your voice from quivering with unshed tears. If you let yourself cry now, you wouldn’t be able to stop, and this really isn’t the place for it. You watch as an old man pushes a cart past you at a snail’s pace, his gnarled fingers grabbing a bag of rice from the shelf.

Dabi must have heard the emotion in your tone though, because his next words come out slightly softer. “Hey, doll. What’s up? Ain’t it a little late for a phone call?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just...” you take a steady breath through your nose in an attempt to ease your jitters. “My place got robbed, and... I need a place to stay for tonight.”

You hear voices in the background, and Dabi growls at them to ‘shut the hell up.’

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Am I bothering you? I didn’t realize you were working...”

“It’s fine, doll.” Dabi replies. “Yeah, you can crash here.”

More arguing. But a moment later, you hear the click of a door being closed and the background noise disappears.

“I’m headin’ over.” Dabi’s voice comes through clearer than before now that there are no other voices coming through the receiver. His deep tone makes your pulse slow down to a manageable pace, and you take a deep sigh a relief. “Where are you?” he asks.

“I’m at the grocery store across the street.” You reply.

“Stay there.” His words are an order, his voice unusually firm. Is that... concern you hear?

“They close in fifteen minutes.” You say nervously.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

You hear the click and the call ends, and you really wish it didn’t. Then again, there was no telling where Dabi was, or what he was in the middle of when you had called.

The minutes tick by slowly as you wait, each minute dragging on longer than the last until you’re certain that you’re in hell, watching time slow to an endless crawl. The ten-minute mark comes and goes, and Dabi is nowhere to be found, and now you’re struggling to keep the panic down. What if he doesn’t come?

But just as the dreaded thought enters your mind, he’s there, appearing next to your shoulder like an apparition, a dark angel disguised in a black hoodie, his mouth covered. You nearly jump out of your skin when he puts an arm around you before you quickly realize it’s him, your protector.

Already you can feel the tears brimming in your lashes, but his words quickly interrupt the flow like a stopper.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispers in your ear. “None of that now.”

He guides you out of the store into the dark night and you stare across the street at your apartment complex. The building is tall and old, looming over you like a bad dream as visions of your ruined home flash in your mind.

“D’ya need to grab anything from your place?” he asks. You shake your head. You don’t want to go in there, even with Dabi present.

“Didja lock the door?” he asks again, and you shake your head again.

“Whoever it was broke it.” You reply. “Please, I just want to go...”

He stares at you for a moment, his blue half-lidded eyes reading the look on your face before he looks away.

“Well, c’mon then.” He says. He guides you to the subway. Once you get on the train, you sit next to him and rest your head on his shoulder as the empty train car sways and bumps on the tracks. You can feel the fear begin to fade away with each passing of the flashing lights through the dirty windows, graffiti carved into their acrylic surface. You interlace your fingers in his, and for once he doesn’t fight it, doesn’t recoil his hand to the safety of his pockets.

The ride is silent and so is the walk to his hideout. He leads you in through the rickety door with the dented doorknob where a ragtag group of people lounge on dirty couches. Your body stiffens instantly, your hand tightening around his as if doing so would fill you with courage you didn’t have.

A man with white hair with the slightest tint of blue-grey glared at you with red eyes. “I thought we agreed on no outsiders?” his voice comes through with a growl, carried on a sneer past scarred lips.

“Shut up.” Dabi snaps at him as he leads you past the group to another door that leads to a hallway.

A couple doors down and he pulls you into what you can only assume is his room – after all, it’s your first time being here; Dabi had never let you visit him before.

“It’s not much, but it’s safe.” Dabi comments as he closes the door behind you.

The bed is messy, the mattress old. You don’t care though. The space smells of Dabi, and as soon as your brain registers that you’re no longer in danger, you buckle down onto his bed and begin to cry with your face in your hands as the aftermath of emotions overflows into your palms.

Dabi removes his hoodie and kneels before you. He watches you in silence, the glaze of his eyes never betraying the emotions tucked away in secrecy. He hates seeing you like this, hates watching you fall apart in front of him. It makes him feel useless. Cautiously, he reaches out and takes your hand from your face, holding your fingers in his warm palm. He can feel the wetness of your tears on them, and he fights the urge to increase his body temperature, to evaporate the evidence of your pain from his skin. Your eyes catch his, red and puffy, and before he can react you throw your arms around his neck and fall into his lap. He catches you – how could he not? – and holds you to him as you empty your emotions into his shoulder.

When the well of your tears has finally dried, you wipe your eyes with the heel of your hand and pull away from him slightly. Dabi can see the exhaustion falling over you in real time, your shoulders slumping and your hold on him loosening into a relaxed grip.

“I’m sorry, I... I just... it’s been a really bad day.” You say, your eyes downcast.

Dabi can’t help but give a dry chuckle as he helps you up to your feet. “Yeah, no shit.”

He sits on the bed and pulls you with him until you’re both lying down on his messy sheets, with you curled into his side.

“Thank you for coming to get me...” you whisper as you rest your cheek against his chest.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he teases, but his smile falters when your breath hitches and you don’t answer.

It cuts him deeper than he expects, but at the same time he’s not surprised... he hasn’t exactly been the best boyfriend – is that even what he is? Is that what he’s been to you? It wasn’t like you two ever discussed it; you two just... were. He’s given you so little...

Dabi swallows before he continues, his voice quieter this time, quieter than he’s ever been with you before. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.” The confession feels weird on his tongue, like a foreign language, but he pushes forward, determined to say what he should have told you sooner. His voice drops even lower to a barely audible whisper. “I’ll always come for you.”

Despite the hush of his words, they feel like a shout. The admission leaves him feeling embarrassed and vulnerable, and a part of him wishes he could take them back, simply because of what they mean. But they don’t come without their own reward - you relax at his words, your body molding against his as your arms tighten around him. It’s the first time he’s been so open with you and the nervousness in his veins gives way to a light euphoria at your acceptance. His arm tightens around you as if he’s afraid you’ll melt away, as if his touch is the only thing keeping you real, his perfect dream come to life. Within minutes, your breaths become deep and even, and Dabi realizes that you’ve fallen asleep on him, your body giving way to its exhaustion after all that had happened. He stares down at you for a long, quiet moment, watching you sleep on him.

Dabi had never put anyone else first before, not even you despite your closeness. But when he answered your call and heard the fear in your voice, it was as if the ground had been pulled out from under him, his entire world thrown into chaos. If anything had happened to you... If you’d gotten hurt in any way...

His grip on you tightens a little more and he brushes his lips against your hair. Maybe it’s the bravery he’s feeling at your acceptance of him. Or maybe it’s the fear of what could have been. But his next words come out in a hushed whisper, a secret confession meant more for himself than you.

“You’re the only thing that matters.”

And even though you’re supposed to be asleep, your soft words hum into his chest, burying themselves like sunflower seeds.

“I love you too.”

#Arv's 500 Followers Event #Dabi #dabi x reader #soft dabi #dabi x gn!reader

227 notes · View notes

astrella-writes · 3 years

Text

prompt | @ssoftlydreaming asked: nfjsja ok from sweet home can you do lee eun-hyeok and basically he has to decide if he should risk the danger of everyone in the apartment complex or save reader who is outside and struggling to survive.

warnings | female pronouns, angst, spoilers for episode one of the netflix adaptation of sweet home, if you haven’t watched episode one complete then this won’t make much sense, panic attacks, the general horror of sweet home, eun-hyuk being a logical pain in the ass, somewhat of an open-ending.

word count | 1.7K

author’s note | i hope this satisfies your masochistic desires! i’m honestly so happy to have angst as my first request, and that isn’t sarcasm at all.

The sound of his descending footsteps echoing throughout the concrete stairwell became background noise to Eun-Hyuk as he stared at the unanswered messages he had sent you well over an hour ago. This was strange behavior coming from you, considering you usually responded back within minutes. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, he tried to think of a logical explanation to calm his increasing worries. Perhaps your phone died on your walk home, or you had to work over-time without a chance to inform him.

He was certain some minor inconvenience caused your abrupt absence, although he couldn’t shake off the unnerving feeling settling like a burden of tense muscles upon his shoulders. Realizing there wasn’t much more he could do, especially since all the calls he gave you went straight to voice mail, he decided to wait patiently for a reply from you and try to keep his thoughts clear during the meantime.

Eun-Hyuk stuffed his phone into his pocket as he finally reached the half-open double doors that led out onto the first floor, his ears immediately picking up on the commotion before he looked over at the front entrance that was blocked by the shutters. A group of people stood dispersed nearby, talking amongst themselves and watching one resident in particular as he tried tugging on the metal bracing that barely budged. The man sighed, dropping his arm and admitting defeat as he walked away from the shutters, mumbling to himself.

‘First the elevators aren’t working, and now this?’ he thought to himself, unimpressed with the current situation, especially since he had work that night. He wasn’t the only one annoyed by the circumstances as the surrounding people openly expressed their vexation. Although, unlike most of them, he remained calm and simply observed the scene with his hands in his pockets. Multiple residents spoke loud enough for him to catch on to the fact that the security guard was missing, which made little sense considering this was an issue for him to resolve.

“Excuse me?” a feminine voice sounded from behind him, causing him to turn around and look at the woman. “Do you have any service on your cell?” Despite having just been on his phone, Eun-Hyuk was so preoccupied with his thoughts regarding your whereabouts that he didn’t notice the minor detail of whether he had any service.

Pulling out his phone and unlocking it, he immediately dialed your number, taking the possibility to hopefully connect with you and find out where you were. When his ear met with a high-pitched ringing, Eun-Hyuk lowered the phone, lost in thought for a second before looking at the woman.

“I guess not,” he said, watching as her face dropped in disappointment and she turned to walk away, but he stopped her with a question. “What’s going on here?”

The woman hesitated, wondering if anything was even worth sharing considering she would give him more questions than answers. She went on to explain how every main exit had been closed up, locking everyone inside. Although she speculated someone was behind this, she had no idea who it was and for what purpose it was done.

The explanation caused Eun-Hyuk to swallow thickly before turning his gaze towards the concealed entrance. He stared for a moment, silently wishing for your safety.

―――

A shrill ringing penetrated your ear, causing you to jerk your head away from your phone and hang up on your attempt at calling Eun-Hyuk. With a frustrated cry, you threw your cellphone upon the ground, hearing the shattering of the screen as it smacked face-first against the concrete.

On the verge of tears, you made yourself as small as possible in the alleyway's corner, pulling your knees up to your chest as you rested your forehead on top of them. Your breathing grew increasingly more labored as the sensation of dread and pure hopelessness consumed your mind.

Eun-Hyuk’s words repeated in your head during times like this, when you were at risk of having a panic attack. Stay still. Take slow breaths. Think of something nice.

You squeezed your eyes shut, allowing the gathering tears to flow freely down your cheeks as they gathered at the tip of your chin. Forcing yourself to take in deep breaths, your trembling body gradually stilled. Eventually, your thoughts morphed as you focused on your breathing, rather than the surrounding chaos.

Think of something nice.

Eun-Hyuk’s face filled your mind, the sight prompting a ghost of a smile. You recalled your first meeting which occurred almost a year ago, when you had just moved into Green Roof Apartments. Someone had suddenly removed the towering stack of boxes you were carrying from your hold, and just as you were about to thank the person for helping, you realized you recognized him.

It turns out that you both used to attend the same high school, although you weren’t in the same class, your friend group interacted with his friend group quite a lot. Seeing his face brought back all those times at lunch when you would sneakily try to steal glances at him without your friends noticing. They noticed, of course, and teased you relentlessly about your crush but they were nonetheless supportive. They even proposed setting you two up on a date, because a ‘little birdie’ told them he had been crushing on you too.

Unfortunately, you were in such denial that someone as handsome as him had feelings for you, and rejected the offer. He was simply unobtainable, the extent of your relationship never surpassing polite greetings and friendly smiles until you both graduated and never saw each other again. Or at least, that’s what you assumed would happen.

It seemed fate gave you two another chance, unsatisfied with your prior silent pining and not acting upon anything. Considering you both matured immensely, talking came easy, and it wasn’t long before a much deeper connection began blossoming between the both of you.

His sister reacted indifferently when she walked out into the hallway one day, only to witness the both of you moving suspiciously away from each other, as if trying to conceal something. She caught on immediately, especially since her brother had been mentioning you quite often.

“Seriously? He’s the best you can do?” She scoffed, eyeing her brother disapprovingly before pushing between the both of you and walking off. You stared at her retreating figure in shock, oblivious to the smile on Eun-Yoo’s face as she disappeared down the stairs.

Once his sister found out, Eun-Hyuk became increasingly more open in terms of your relationship. And eventually, after a long week of his sister degrading him for not moving to the next step, he asked you to be his girlfriend. It wasn’t the most romantic of set-up’s; he had knocked on your door and asked you so casually that you wondered if he was joking.

When he assured you he wasn’t, you almost knocked him off his feet from the abrupt hug you gave him, accepting his simple proposal.

The memory faded, and the realization hit you like a truck. Eun-Hyuk was waiting for you, and you couldn’t give up on him. Taking a deep breath, you got up from the ground, trying not to focus on the screams and sounds of destruction in the distance as you lightly jogged towards the entrance of the alleyway. You peered behind the wall and looked both ways. The coast was clear; it was now or never.

―――

You raced around the corner, narrowly dodging the attention of a nearby monster as its head popped up from one of the many dumpsters lining the brick wall of Green Roof Apartments, the location you had been trying to reach from when this all started.

The sound of metal creaking, which you quickly recognized to be the shutters descending, urged your aching legs to run faster as the darkness before you faded the closer you got to the entrance. That’s when you noticed Eun-Hyuk struggling to keep the shutters open as a distraught woman crawled towards him. He reached out a hand towards her, just as he looked up and made eye contact with you. His eyes widened at the sight, although bloodied and bruised, you were very much alive. You smiled at him, relieved, feeling safe already.

That was until you heard a rustling coming from your right, along with animalistic groans, as if something was just stirring back to life after being immobilized and ready to lash out again. A flurry of panicked voices came from the lobby of the apartment, everyone watching in horror as the hunched-over silhouette of the monster with a snake-like tongue began recovering to its full height.

Luckily for you, the monster disregarded your presence as it ambled towards the entrance. You stood frozen in fear as the shadow of its body passed over you, the sound of its languid steps lulling you into a trance as your body trembled lightly.

It was perceptible that trying to run past it would end in your demise, leaving you stuck on what to do. Your pleading eyes drifted towards Eun-Hyuk, hoping he would come up with a plan to distract the monster long enough so you could make a break for the gap underneath the shutters he had been holding open - a perfect enough size for you to slide under.

He stared you dead in the eyes as he dropped the shutters; the metal clanging loudly against the tiled floor. You blanched, staring back at him in disbelief. A semblance of guilt took over his features, and you shook your head in denial.

Your eyes stung with tears, and you wondered whether to cry and beg for him to help you or keep the remaining bit of dignity you had left. The monster suddenly shot its tongue within the gaps of the barred metal and Eun-Hyuk disappeared from sight as he dodged; the trance you were in instantly dissipating as you came to terms with the situation.

He left you to fend for yourself, surrounded by a horde of monsters. You weren’t sure whether to give up or keep going, considering nothing seemed worth fighting for at the moment.

Did he regret it? Of course. Would he do it again? Without question. Eun-Hyuk would sacrifice anyone to keep his sister safe, even you, and even himself.

#sweet home #sweet home x reader #eun-hyuk x reader #eun-hyeok x reader #sweet home imagines #sweet home netflix #sweet home x reader netflix #angst #sweet home angst

487 notes · View notes

kcatta-wodahs · 3 years

Text

Making Lore Out of the Angel Event

Im the definition of 'its not that deep but I'm going to dig a hole to make it that deep'

In this case its me making it that deep because otherwise this event is upsetting so I'm making some dark lore theories to make it make sense to me.

I'll have a lot of spoilers below. For the event and everything I know, which is up to like lesson 32 I think.

Basically, TLDR; this was an attack by Michael/their Father on Devildom. Simeon and Diavolo have successfully negated the threat by turning it into a game.

TLDR Thesis; The Celestial Realm is governed through careful mind control. The Demon Bros are not "avatars" because of being demons- they have been cursed by their Father to suffer as no other demon nor angel has to.

First we hear direct from Michael, and he's giving these bangles that appear to brainwash the main cast.

This was an attempt by their Father to bring them back under his control. By control, I mean this literally.

I've felt for a long time that the way the Celestial Realm seems to be run is... shady. It's a utopia to outside appearances only, and those who have been most deeply embroiled in the Great Celestial War know this.

The Great Celestial War was over free will, rather than the specifics of Lilith's situation. She was the catalyst for a long-time-coming revolt against the rulers of the Celestial Realm.

My logic for this:

The reason for Lilith's expulsion goes against the current action plan of the Celestial Realm. Peace between the realms? Sure, but their Father is bound to realize that you put angels, humans, and demons together you're going to end up with more angels like Lilith, who fall for other races. Why would he accept this truce if he lost his favored children over an issue that is very similar? Did he have a change of heart? Heavens no.

Luke's behaviour towards the demon's seems case-and-point. Luke is not the strange one out of the angelic transfer students- Simeon is. Not only that, Simeon is chosen not in an attempt to promote peace, but to protect Luke from being influenced. (Which is, again, the whole point\of the exchange program.)

That time we went to the Celestial Realm for real - Lucifer was worried. Scared, even. This can be explained by, you know, the War and Lilith.. but I wonder if it may be more sinister. Like perhaps being brainwashed.

Diavolo and Barbatos weren’t required to wear bangles to become less “demon-like” for the “party”. This is because the bangles were a ploy to get the brothers back.

My theory is that when an angel begins to show signs of rebellion or questioning the divine order, they are forcibly stopped. Michael is that enforcer, and these 'gifts' are a method of stopping them.

The bangles cause a person to act *perfectly angelic* against their free will. The people affected become all smiles and sunshine, so clearly nothing could be wrong with it, right? They’re happy, right?

No. Very not right, and we can see that through Satan.

Poor Satan is always the exception to the rule of the Brothers, as his circumstances are different from everyone else's.

In this case though, he's the one who provides insight on this mind control.

Let me remind you of the quotes Satan gives us during this time:

“I feel worked up.” “I don’t feel like myself at all.”

“It feels like something foreign is forcing my heart to be calm.” “Like my heart... becoming tranquil.”

Satan has never been an angel. He has never experienced this before. He has something the other brothers don’t: self-reflection. Satan can tell the difference between his feelings and feelings that are being imposed upon him. He tells you what he feels - “worked up” and “not like himself” and he is not smiling during this. He’s clearly unhappy, even though an angel might say he should feel unburdened by losing his anger.

He even mentions this.

“Normally, that wouldn’t seem like something bad, right?” “Something isn’t right.” “Maybe you shouldn’t come near me when I’m in this state.”

Satan is under the effects of the bangle, being forced to act angelic, but he can tell something “isn’t right.” He clearly shows that he thinks this is a “bad” thing, not because being calm is bad, but because it’s not “normal”. And can I remind you that he’s the Avatar of Wrath? The Sin that is most likely to be dangerous to be around - and yet it’s only when his anger is forcibly quelled that he thinks you should stay away from him. He knows that this is not something to desire. He knows that it is not happiness.

“I can’t concentrate on reading today.”

I mean, he’s obviously going through a lot, so that’s fair. But I have the theory that if he were to try and research this condition he wouldn’t be able to either. I have a theory about the Garden of Eden. My theory is about Paradise.

Remember when Eve ate the fruit? Do you know what that fruit was? Sin?

No. That fruit was knowledge.

Specifically, knowledge of good and evil. Now, why would this knowledge be something to keep from those under the control of the Celestial Realm? It sounds rather like they might be able to then make their own decisions of what is right and wrong.

Satan has known this from the beginning. Knowledge is power. The Ruler of the Celestial Realm, the other demons’ Father, knows this, too.

Why are there no other Avatars?

Sin was not something inherent to Devildom. Sin is a judgement sent from the Celestial Realm. There are no other Avatars because they are a wholly angelic creation. There are other posts that have examined the Sins as outlets, and how each of the brothers are attempting to find ways to allow themselves to express their sin so it does not overtake them.

From the get-go, we are shown that these Sins are a defining point for the brothers, but we’re also shown that they cause more trouble than anything else. Again, part-and-parcel of being a demon, right?

So why aren’t other demons like this?

Look at Diavolo and Barbatos, or even just the background demons who work across Devildom. Look at No. 2. They are all far more complex, and could even be considered normal. No. 2 is specifically meant to be based off of Mammon and his greed, but is much more rounded when we interact with it.

If Diavolo is meant to be the ruler of demonkind -- the paragon of what a demon should be -- then why would he not be the epitome of all of these Sins in one? What is Diavolo, instead?

Diavolo is accepting.

Hold up a moment here. What? Sorry y’all but it sounds to me like Mr. Demon Daddy King trusts his son enough to pass the kingdom on to him... so that must mean that Diavolo is behaving as a demon should.

Barbatos doesn’t question Diavolo’s choices. Nobody does. He’s an all around popular ruler. Devildom seems to be quite.. the opposite of what we’ve been trained to expect, huh? Trained by who exactly?

What are the Demon Brothers?

Cursed. They don’t act like other demons because they’re not like other demons. When they rebelled against their Father, they were punished for this act, but I posit that the punishment and the exile were two different acts. Their Father knew that leaving the Celestial Realm was not punishment to those who desired free will. So instead, he gave them Sin. Something that Demons are not normally bound to.

But how would the brothers know this? They only know what they’ve been taught by angels about demons. Surely these new, pressing desires come from turning into demons..?

So, why was this not taken seriously?

Short answer: it was. But in the way that aligns with Diavolo’s ultimate goals.

Diavolo wants peace.

Let’s Talk About Simeon

Simeon is an enigma and a half isn’t he?

Simeon is close with Michael, closer than Luke in any case. Now, I’ll be honest, I can’t remember if it was a fanfiction I read that said this or if it was canon so uh - forgive me. But Simeon was chosen to accompany Luke as an exchange student so that Luke would get some education. Simeon says this is to help relations, as Diavolo wants, but of course that’s what you would say as a sleeper agent?

Now, don’t get sad. Because we love Simeon here and we support him.

Simeon is wise and neutral. He seems to support the brothers, and even still wishes to foster a relationship with them. This could be seen as an attempt to bring them back, or some such, but I like to think that Simeon knows what’s wrong with the Celestial Realm.

Simeon, however, doesn’t think that a revolt can solve it. Simeon is working with Diavolo to create a form of peace - and has been transparent about the fact that Michael chose him to prevent Luke from being corrupted. I like to think he’s also been transparent with Diavolo about Michael’s actual goal.

Simeon believes that the races should co-exist and love freely. How could love be evil, after all? Whether or not this is a new concept to him (because of his falling for you) or if this is just who he is, I’ll leave up to you and your preferences, but since he is now no longer undateable, it is established that he does not believe love between angels and humans to be bad - as his Father did with Lilith.

What happened, then?

My theory is that Simeon told Diavolo that Michael had given him a task - to give these bangles to the brothers to remind them of the joy they were missing by disobeying the Divine Order. Either that, or to brainwash them into coming back home.

Simeon’s position would be revealed to Michael if he didn’t give the brothers the bangles, but he does not want to instigate another war either. So he told Diavolo Michael’s plan.

Diavolo wants peace, and he knows that with time, the brothers can overcome this mind control as they had in the past - especially with his help.

So thus comes the “party”.

An excuse to make the bangles seem like a “harmless” gift, that had only gone wrong because of strange magical interference, when really they had done exactly what they were supposed to.

And a wonderful way to maintain peace while leaving the Celestial Realm to stew in their own pots.

Simeon gets to maintain his facade for everyone - and put on a show for Michael as being loyal. He also gets to show Luke that perhaps being wholly angelic isn’t the way for some people, letting him learn a little more about peaceful coexistence. Nothing happens to ruin Diavolo’s grand plan for peace, and he gets to learn more about the curse that is set upon his friends - One that he hopes to be able to break someday, so they can live their lives unfettered by their Father.

#okay this has gone on long enough #i have other ideas about satan in this whole situation but this is my canon now okay #the celestial realm is shady af #Our group of friends are the ones trying to rebel against it #but also are the victims of what happens if you do #man i wish that they would go into deep lore and plot like this in the game #but its an otome so i can't really expect that #anyway this is how im going to treat the whole thing #obey me lore #lore #bast babbles #obey me event #angel event #obey me angel event #obey me #obey me shall we date #obswd #headcanons

561 notes · View notes

binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

telepatía | reader x binsung

a/n: hi cuties! hope ya’ll are are staying seggsy and cozy! ;) this piece is 100% self indulgent (hehe) as well as my first time writing a poly r/ship! since i’m new at it, any and all feedback is super super appreciated!! <3

telepatía | changbin x reader x jisung

~aka, my love note to binsung~

Pairing: self insert, seo changbin x female reader x han jisung

Genre: fluff n’ smut

Tags: poly relationship, long distance r/ship au, established r/ship au, inspired by a song au, comfort fic, lil bit emotional but that’s bc they are in looove, idiots in love, softdom!binnie, hardswitch!reader, softsub!jisung, mentions of food, explicit language, masturbation (f), dirrrrty talking, hehe soft love makin’, lowkey size and corruption kink, unprotected sex, oral (m&f), face sitting, penetration (piv and anal), double penetration (f), nipple play (m&f), fingering (f), squirting, marking, multiple orgasms, creampie, ahhh soft n’ intimate body touching, cockwarming, shower aftercare, i am so sorry i got sooooo carried away teehee

Word count: 7.9k

Recommended listening: telepatía by kali uchis

Two months. Two months that had felt like eternity.

Your pen tapped at the table to your desk as you watched the minutes pass by. To your right, your desk calendar with your little countdown smiled at you with the little doodles had drawn along with the stickers that you had decorated there.

Five more days!

The golden hour of the day passed by outside your window upon the city that you had been calling home for the past two months. It was gorgeous. Unreal even. Studying abroad had been harder than you had expected--although it was often exciting at other times too. There was not a day that passed when you had regretting doing it, but there were other days when you had wished you could just transport yourself right back home; even if it meant it would be for only a couple hours of so.

During nights like these, your cramped little studio felt even more empty than usual. The colors of gold and pink would smear in the skyline along with pale pink clouds that looked softer and lusher than anything else in the world. In the springtime, the budding and green trees lined the outside of the apartment complex and birds twittering past would flutter their wings outside of your window cracked open slightly. As the days went by, the air warmed and became more humid, and smelled of luxurious primrose and hyacinths.

Your room was dimly lit by your desk lamp, and you hadn’t bothered to turn on any other light. Pages wrinkled, and your sense of loneliness came creeping in like the cold winter that the new season had now just chased away. You didn’t want the feeling to linger, but you couldn’t help but let it.

The sheets of your bed were cozy, much like the rest of the way that you had decorated your studio. The cream colored covers felt like silk on your legs, but where nothing compared to the touch that you craved.

Your phone clicked on with it’s blue-white light, showing your screensaver: a beautiful sunset image of that last walk that you had taken of the two of them before you had left.

If it were possible, you imagined that missing one person was enough to shatter a heart, but two people?

You hugged your phone to your chest, feigning some semblance of a hug to the two of them. Your nose sniffled as it grew more stuffed, and you let your suppressed sobs fill up the space of the room.

You were convinced that you must've been the the luckiest or the unluckiest person in the whole world: two loves of your life, two people to share it all with had been like a dream come true. It was finally something that felt like it made sense. But, to be so closely tied to two people, meant that being away from them hurt two times as much.

You imagined them with you in your room: they loved to sandwich you in the middle of them. This was their favorite place to have you. Nothing had been warmer and safer than that. Arms and legs would be all tied together in a way that made little sense, and both of their quiet breathing would tickle at the skin of the back of your neck and your forehead. If there was anything that you had guessed you missed most, it would be falling asleep with them. “I love you’s” would be whispered, and all space between you dissapear once the down comforter would be pulled to your noses.

No matter how hard you pretended that they were there, it was never the same.

[it takes three to make a thing go right] binnie, sungie, me

binnie: have you had dinner yet? please don’t forget!

jisung: [see image] this is what we’re having for breakfast! we wish you were here with us!

With shaking fingers you opened the picture to view Jisung’s attempts at cooking. He had been getting into it these days. You had almost wished sometimes that you had been there to try whatever he had concocted--even if it didn’t taste the best. Today it looked like he had tried to make fluffy pancakes with strawberries and cream...but they didn’t end up as fluffy as they should’ve been. Changbin was in the background of the picture making a couple finger hearts. Undoubtedly Jisung had asked him to do it for the picture: Changbin was more of the no-nonsense and stoic type with somewhat of a goofy edge. You and Jisung always knew how to make him melt. “You two are my weaknesses you know?”

sungie: don’t stay up too late either! finish strong before you come back, okay?

binnie: we really can’t wait to see you, five days can’t come soon enough.

You sniffled, sitting up. Had they been there then, they wouldn’t have liked to see you cry. Although your heart stung with a sharp pain seeing them so happy together, you brought yourself back together. You knew exactly how it would’ve been: Jisung would dry your tears gently, then cuddle right up under your arm to nuzzle into your shoulder. Behind the both of you, Changbin would spread his arms wide so both of you could be wrapped up in him.

me: i really miss you both. i miss you so, so much. i can’t wait to see you on Friday. don’t have too much fun without me until then :)

binnie: you kidding? we’re miserable without you!! i think that we’re both going crazy.

sungie: he’s right!! it feels so weird, it always has been these past months.

we’re not complete without you, y/n. we miss you too sooooo much.

and you know that bin gets crabby sometimes. when it’s just me around...

bin: hey! the hell you mean crabby?! i’m a frickin angel!!!

The way that you could read each of their messages in their voices brought you comfort, and you giggled a little reading the words.

sungie: relax! i’m just trying to make her laugh. did i succeed?

me: you did sungie. :)

bin: you forget that i’m sitting right next to you sung, you’re playing a risky game.

sungie: ooooh he talks such big talk, are you seeing this y/n? do you see what i mean? plz come back and save me!!!

bin: HEY

me: binnnnn go easy on sungie.

bin: i do!!!

i only go rough when he asks me too ;)

sungie: w o w

While it did make you laugh, it still hurt a little thinking about how even with you missing, their lives still went on, they ate meals together, went to concerts, movies, out to eat, and, at the end of the day, they still had eachother to cuddle up with to sleep. It hurt even more thinking about how they still had eachother to satisfy other comforts. Of course, you were still involved over the phone and video calls too, but with thousands of miles of distance, your hands alone could never feel as mind-blowing as theirs.

binnie: there will be plenty of that when you get back too y/n ;) sung has maybe had it too easy.

me: hmm too easy?

Jisung send a series of emoji stickers that all conveyed about the same message: oh my god i’m in trouble.

binnie: anyway, jokes aside, we are really looking forward to friday. sungie and i have been talking about it and we think we just want to spend the night in if that’s okay with you? you’ll be tired too.

As always, your boyfriends were the most considerate people in likely the whole world. You didn’t really want to be anywhere else, but just with the two of them; as close as you possibly could be.

me: that sounds perfect. <3

sungie: get some rest tonight!! in the morning get yourself something nice for breakfast, i can send you some money hehe

binnie: boyfriend of the year award over here ! !

sungie: hey, we’re both boyfriend of the year! duh, she loves us the same???

me: that’s very true.

binnie: pffff

sungie: don’t make me tackle you seo changbin, i am sitting right next to you

binnie: is that a promise?

me: boys, boys stop fighting, you’re both boyfriend of the year.

binnie: see? y/n, we’re a mess without you.

sungie: changbin, you’re my boyfriend of the year too. does that make you feel better?

binnie: maybe.

sungie: we’re keeping y/n from getting dinner. we should shut up now.

anyhoo!

we love and miss you a lot a lot. take care until friday! we’re almost there!!!!

binnie: BUT I LOVE HER MORE

sungie: bin, i love you, but please, shut up.

binnie: i’m joking!! sungie i’m joking. this is an equal relationship obviously.

By now, their usual antics had left your tearstained face dry, and the corners of your mouth sore from how hard you had smiled.

binnie: see you soon! goodnight y/n!

sungie: night y/n <3

You clicked your phone closed, then let your weight drop down to your pillow that held the smell of the evening air.

“It’ll be sooner than you think.” You sighed.

It was much too nice of a night to be doing homework, so you decided to push it off for just a couple more hours, flicking on your dinky TV set to a local station where they spoke in the language that you had been teaching to yourself for the past couple months. Here and there you could recognize a few words, but you mostly liked it for the noise.

You pulled your thin sheet over your bare legs, merely enjoying the simplicity of the feeling over your whole body.

there will be plenty of that when you get back home too.

we love and miss you a lot a lot.

Two months for imagining...and you had learned to hone your skill especially, even if it didn’t feel the same. Even though missing them hurt, you could still feel the love from them from thousands of miles away. They had said themselves that they didn’t feel complete without you.

The silky feeling sheets tickled at the hairs on your arms as your hand teased down your stomach, then toyed with the elastic of your panties under cotton shorts. You blamed it on the night being especially pleasant, or maybe it was just what you and needed at that moment.

You wondered how much they had missed you, if they thought of you when their hands would run over each other, or perhaps even if they would imagine that you were there with them when they hold each other close, tiny gaps and moans stick on their lips while they would pleasure each other too. You in fact had thought of them: Jisung’s pretty moans and the way that Changbin liked to suck little bites into his neck.

That spring air hushed into your window with the softness of a song, and curious fingers dipped into your folds and twitching bud which was wet to the touch. Your body jolted at the feeling of your fingers on your suddenly needy clit. Your mind ran wild thinking of the way that both of them had looked beside you, one of their hands dipping under the fabric of your panties and the other lightly twisting at your nipples too. Absentmindedly, your own hand reached to mimic the action on your breast while you remembered. Careful kisses would be pressed into your cheek and neck while they whispered adoring little praises in your ears.

“You’re so beautiful baby, like nothing else.”

“We love you so much. My princess, such a good girl for me, hm? You like how our hands look on you?”

Your body shivered at the memory, and you rubbed circles into your clit, gathering your own sticky slick to rub over the sensitive bud.

“Yes,” You whispered to the empty room.

The golden setting sun reflected fractals of tiny rainbows into your room--just as your prism had done hanging in the window back at home. It would reflect on the stucco walls, and the colors would streak on the ceiling. You would catch sight of them laying tangled up in scattered sheets with both of their bodies prowling over you in bare skin. You could trace the curves of their shoulder blades like the edge of perfectly crested waves. A faraway warmth swelled over your body, and you rubbed harshly at your bud craving more and and more. Your legs squirmed under the sheets: much like they would when they would bow their heads to tease at your clit with interweaving tongues, sandwiched between your thighs which they would pull back with starving fingertips. You could almost hear it: the way that your slick would drip over your pussy, and how they would taste it too on each others lips in between.

Your back arched recalling their praise. They would pull you between them once again, and fill your mouth with adoring kisses covered with multitudes of their love. Jisung would mewl little whines into your mouth, shaking from your hand wrapped around his cock, and Changbin kissed you like you were his reason for breathing: slow, languid, purposeful. He’d sigh out watching the way that you marked up Jisung’s body while pumping himself all the while.

“Binnie. Sungie.” Their names became your anchor while your rubbed wider, then slower, then faster. Your soaked fingers plunged into your pussy while your head danced with the memories of them filling you up, rolling their hips in as deeply as thye could, kissing into your chest or the crook of your neck. You curved your fingers to tease at your g-spot, but your clit was even more impatient.

“Do you want to cum for us princess?”

“I’ll cum for you...” Your breath hitched in that room all by yourself.

Your fingers wiggled back up to your clit, now hypersensitive from its lack of attention. Instantly, your orgasm built violently behind the twitching bud, and you threw your free arm back to grip into your pillow to steady yourself. Sweat had gathered on the underside of your thighs and on your back: it was a feeling so dirty that it only made your head feel lighter. It was as if they were in the room with you and you could see them clearly: enamored eyes dipped in lust that ate up your form until there was nothing left.

“C-close.” You shuddered, now with pruned fingers encircling until you drew yourself right to the brink.

You came with a forceful heat that swept over your whole body and sent your hips jerking up into the air and toes digging into the bed. Your incisors bit harshly at your lip, and you stifled your unsteady and high pitched moans the best you possibly could. In your apartment complex, the walls were thin enough for there to be little left to the imagination.

Your chest shook as you came down and you teased your bud, edging on overstimulation for as long as you could take it. Jisung had liked the way that you would convulse like this and Changbin would relentlessly give little slaps to your aching bud. Once you could take no more, you drew your hand back from the elastic, then you let the euphoria sweep over your body for a few moments of silence and tranquility.

Yes, you had done it to yourself, but without their help, there was no way that you could’ve shown your body the same kind of fervent love.

It was as if they could make love to you telepathically, even on this night when the sun was setting, and your bed was empty.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You hadn’t expected yourself to feel nervous meeting them at the airport. Still, your heart pounded in your chest with a ridiculous rhythm. It wasn’t like you had a completely different face or had changed anything about yourself remotely that would’ve shocked them. Still, a sense of anxiety swelled in you that was unexpected and unwarranted. Perhaps it was because it was so surreal.

There was something odd about the airport, it was likely how industrial it all felt with chairs that were lined with thin upholstery and carpets that held all kinds of mysterious stains. But, while it was a bit of a undesirable area, it was teeming with excitement. There were patrons at the magazine stands busying themselves flipping through books and laughing at the outrageous titles, people sitting joyously at the little restaurants and several hyper children tugging the hands of exasperated parents with neck pillows clinging to their strained necks. Further down the way, there was the sign illuminated pointing to the pick up area past baggage claim.

The air smelled overly filtered, but it was still as exhilarating. You took two escalators down and one moving walkway, then the light of the outdoors flooded the area with conveyor belts and the screens above them.

“Y/n? Y/n!!!!” Jisung’s voice called over the busy sounds of baggage claim filled to the brim with his excitement.

Before you got a chance to figure out where his voice had come from, your adorable boyfriend came charging at you with arms outstretched and an inhumanly large smile on his face. He scooped you up holding you so tightly that you had to teeter on your tip toes. While Jisung had a bit of a tiny frame, you never would’ve guessed from the scale of his hugs.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” He giggled out the words with a sense of disbelief, and he swung your body back and forth. “Oh my god I missed you sososo much.”

Another set of arms peacefully wrapped around you and Jisung and squeezed you in even tighter. In one of his hands, the cellophane from a bouquet of pink roses crinkled. “It’s so nice to have you back.” Changbin cooed, then reached to pat your head with his free hand.

You blinked back your happy tears the best that you could. The three of you broke, and you looked at both of your boyfriends right in front of you for the first time in what felt like forever. Changbin squeezed Jisung’s shoulder while the boy wiped a couple tears for the corner of his eyes.

You were biased, but they really were the most beautiful people in the world.

“I-I missed you both too, more than you can imagine.”

The two boys beamed, then presented you with your flowers.

“‘Hope you like pink ‘cause that’s the last color that they had left.” Changbin chuckled, and you nodded profusely.

“They’re gorgeous.”

You decided, after two months of not seeing the damn loves of your life, you deserved to kiss them--fuck the glares that you would get.

First you grabbed Changbin by the cheeks to press a smiling kiss right into his surprised mouth, and kiss him like you were a high schooler starved for attention that was forbidden to them. Still, your boyfriend grabbed your face back, rubbing tenderly into your own cheeks.

You winked to an equally shocked Jisung, “You next.”

You kissed the stutters away on his lips, and then ran giddy lips over his which cracked with a smile so wide it made it a little hard to kiss him. He wrapped both of his arms around you to pull you in close and you ruffled up his caramel blond hair the best you possibly could. Beside you, Changbin chuckled out proudly.

You had closed your eyes to kiss both of your boyfriends like they deserved. If someone had stared, well...you didn’t see it.

Jisung was out of breath after your parted, then pushed up his glasses in his surprise.

“That was....”

“--Lets get home!!” You shined with a smile, then took off in front of them. “Are you coming or not??”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jisung decided not to subject you to his home cooking, regardless of the fact that you had said that you wanted to try it. You had ordered take-out, and ate it picnic style on the floor to your living room in front of the TV playing a movie that none of you payed attention to. Regardless of the fact that your jet lag had hit you like a truck, your pure adrenaline upon seeing them kept your eyes from becoming weary.

The normal questions had been asked: how are you classes, how is the food there, what are the people like, what is your apartment like, have you made friends etc. You asked Changbin about how his classes were going, and how Jisung’s part-time job at the café was and about the silly little things that you used to do as three, but they now had to as two. The consensus was that doing anything as two was strange and even a little awkward at times because they had gotten so used to having you around.

Changbin cleared the dishes, making space for you to make up your little pillow fort that you would do at times. “It felt like there was a piece missing from us. It was...really hard sometimes too.”

“It was for me too. Out there all alone...I had never realized that a bed meant for one person would be like, the saddest thing that there is on this earth.”

“Small bed no more!” Jisung piped, then proceeded to wrap both his arms and legs around you the best he could. “Also small shower no more.” He nuzzled into your chest.

One of the selling points of the apartment that you shared was actually the comically large shower that it came with. During the first few weeks after you had moved in, it was as if the three of you were physically incapable of taking a shower without the others being there. Changbin joked that it was as if they had made it just for the three of you in some kind of destined way.

“Hmmm well, I think that we should make use of that as soon as possible.”

Jisung let out a happy little hum in agreement then angled himself up to plant a couple quick kisses on your mouth and nose. Changbin threw down your array of pillows and other blankets, draping them over chairs to make a little tent like the three of you were toddlers hidden away in your secret place.

“Sungie sandwich!!!” Jisung suddenly gasped out, “Binnie come on!!”

Changbin scoffed, “I guess it has been a while...can’t say no to that.”

Jisung squealed and the two of you made space for your boyfriend to come slide himself on the other side and make a proper “Sungie sandwich.” He kissed careful lips into the crook of Jisung’s neck which made the other boy giggle out in a tizzy: not only was he sensitive there, but it would tickle him too. You reached your arms over to tangle your fingers up in Changbin’s dark locks which were just as soft as you remembered.

“This feels so amazing.” You sighed into Jisung who had crept his hands up your shirt.

“It does.” Changbin agreed. “We’re complete again.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Small bed no more was right.

Jisung patted the middle spot, wearing only a white tee and his boxers.

“Your spot awaits you princess.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

Changbin sauntered over while he brushed his teeth, abandoning the idea of a shirt all together.

Your eyes widened, “...Bin--”

“--What?” He smugly smirked. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before?”

“N-no.”

Your other boyfriend scoffed, “He certainly knows that he’s hot, doesn’t he?”

“He sure does.” Changbin dished out a prideful wink.

With sarcasm laced in your voice, you turned to Jisung to say, “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that while I was gone.”

Changbin’s voice echoed from the bathroom “HE LIKED IT!”

Jisung waved him off, settling to beckon you under the thick and cozy comforter that you had daydreamed of more than once.

“Are you comfy?” He hushed.

“Mmhm! Comfiest I’ve been in months.”

Just as he always would, Jisung would wrap you up so tight that it might’ve been a little suffocating--but it wasn’t like you minded in the slightest. The top of his poofy hair smelled like grapefruits somehow, and you hadn’t realized how much you had missed it. The feeling of your bare legs intertwined, and there was nothing that came close to such a perfect feeling.

Your other boyfriend clicked off the light, then engulfed the both of you with his rather strong and intimidating arms. You knew for a fact that they were nothing but cuddly and harmless. Being like this with them was what you had missed most, and it was finally yours for the taking.

“Are you guys asleep yet?” Jisung whispered after approximately five minutes of silence.

“No,” Changbin murmured. “What is it?”

“I-I dunno, I can’t fall asleep, I just keep thinking...”

You flopped over to face him, “What is it Sungie? Everything okay?”

Your adorable boyfriend stammered, then shied under the comforter in the dark of the room. “I-I don’t know if now is the right time, but...” It was noticeable how his tone had changed; you and Changbin knew it well. Jisung’s pitch would raise and his voice would crack when he wanted something.

Changbin leaned over to click the light back on. “Sung, you don’t have to be so coy about it. I think that Y/n and I know you better than you know yourself.”

Jisung’s eyes widened in his embarrassment, “You what??”

Your headstrong boyfriend sighed, “Use your words Sungie.”

His cheeks turned rosy, then he peeped, “It’s just that it’s been a really long time and I can’t stop thinking about it, and...Bin and I didn’t really do anything for like a week cause--”

Your head whipped in Changbin’s direction, “What?”

Changbin nodded solemnly saying, “Let him finish.”

“--C-cause I wanted us to wait for when you came back so it could be like, extra special? Or...something like that.” He threw the blanket over his head. “It sounds so dumb when I say it out loud.”

You really didn’t deserve someone like Jisung. Not in this lifetime or the next. You felt your limbs practically turn to jelly to hug your shy boyfriend.

“It’s not dumb!! Not at all!! I think that it’s so sweet! You wanted to wait for me? Oh, baby...”

With the blanket pulled back, you held his glistening eyes with yours. He really was irresistible when he would get like this.

“I’m assuming that you wanna stop waiting, hm?”

Changbin joined you in leaning over the shiest of you three, then shrugged down the cotton of your loose t-shirt to paint kisses into your shoulder. In the chill of the room, the warmth contrasted beautifully.

“Yes or no Sungie? Because I defin--”

“--Yes! Uh--I mean, yes, but--only if you aren’t too tired or if you want to.”

“Sungie, how can I say no to you?” You bowed your neck to press loving little kisses into his lips which still tasted faintly of mint. He immediately give into you, grabbing out to hold your neck firmly as you did so. His hips squirmed slightly, as did his legs--he always was such an impatient baby.

Changbin scooched in closer to caress down your back as you filled your boyfriend with every single kiss that you had been waiting months to give him.

His voice was as soft as velvet, and full of his immense love for the two of you. Seeing both of you like this made him swell with such as sense of admiration, it was as if it was a high for him. “We’ll take care of you Sungie, we’d love to.”

Even from Changbin’s praises, Jisung’s whole body would shiver, and you could feel it on your tongue too when you had politely asked for him to allow you entrance.

Jisung set to work pulling your shirt up over your arms once you turned to Changbin to kiss over him roughly. He had liked it more that way: a collision of lips and teeth grazing over the softer parts of your mouth, gasps getting caught in between and the heat of tongues twisting as if you were as sweet as honey. As soon as you were rid of your shirt two sets of hands greedily crept up your body to twist and pull at your nipples which had hardened in seconds. Your head fell to Changbin’s shoulder while they teased and flicked at your sensitive buds until they hurt.

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” Changbin growled, then cradled your head to lay you down.

“The prettiest.” Jisung agreed, then hooked his fingers under the lacy part of your underwear that you might’ve worn with the purpose of them not staying on you for long. In return, you tugged at both of their waistbands for them to do the same. Cloth hit the bedside floor, and all that was left was Jisung’s shirt which you pulled off yourself. You only had a couple moments to look in the dim lighting of the room, but both of them had already dripped lightly with pearly drips of pre-cum and their hardening dicks throbbed against the mattress. Not only was it a heavenly sight to behold, but you knew that both of them were entirely for you.

Changbin leaned down to flick his tongue around your hardened bud, then used his hand to kneed at your other breast with his powerful grasp. Jisung pulled your face towards him with hungry little whimpers that tickled your bottom lip, so you returned the favor by pulling his with your teeth. He recoiled beautifully from the feeling, and you saw your prefect window to slither down his body and wrap your hand around his pink cock. At first, you grazed your thumb over his slit roughly.

“Did you miss my hand on your cock Sungie? Look at you...so hard for me, so worked up...do you want it that bad, baby?”

“Y-yes, p-please...”

Changbin kissed his way up your neck from your breasts sparkling from his saliva, then sucked love bites onto your collarbones and the soft parts of your neck. “Angel, I want to see you with Sungie’s dick in your mouth, can you do that?”

You nodded, reveling in Changbin’s instructions. There was something about being told exactly what to do that made you feel so pliable. Changbin knew it well. You then worked kisses down your boyfriend’s body, pausing for a moment to flick your tongue over his nipples in the way that made his whole chest flush with pink. He laughed out in his pleasure with an airy breath too. You kissed gently at first, teasing your lips over, then sucking harshly with a trailing of teeth. His back arched, and he let out a delightful “ah-fuck!”

You finished by peppering other little marks on his chest which faded from pink to violet in a matter of seconds.

“Babyboy, you wanna taste my cock too?” Changbin greedily rose to kneel, then pumped his fist with tiny trailing breaths.

Jisung’s eyes turned into full moons at the sight, then nodded excitedly while angling himself correctly. You and your boyfriend exchanged prideful little glances over the other’s eagerness. The pads of your fingers traced down Jisung’s thin frame, ghosting over his flaring abs and drawing little scribbles into his ribs. Your perfect position was set between this quivering thighs which welcomed you easily, and you took his deliciously pink cock in your hand to tease at him with thick stripes. You gathered saliva on your tongue so he could feel it, then used another hand to pump at him too.

Jisung flattened out his tongue to swirl it around his boyfriends angrily red tip and maintained eye contact as Changbin preferred. As the smallest boy dipped his head in closer, Changbin entangled his fingers with those gorgeous caramel trellises. He sighed out at the feeling of his cock hitting the back of Jisung’s throat, and groaned out lowly once he heard the other choke on it lightly.

“Fuck baby. Just like that..”

You then took in Jisung’s length as deeply as you could: and it was no easy feat. Where Changbin dominated in girth, Jisung made up for in length. The action sent Jisung whining helplessly on Changbin’s dick, which only drove the other boy further into his passion.

“You take me so well Sungie.” He cooed, and pulled out for Jisung to catch a few desperate gasps.

Your saliva gathered in the corner of your mouth, and you licked it up and down the sides of Jisung’s cock-- but only for a few moments. You swallowed him down, pushing down the back of your throat just as you had long learned how to do. Merely feeling the weight of him in your mouth sent your pussy throbbing and your legs twisting for some kind of sensation. Of course, Changbin had noticed.

“Open your legs sweetheart.”

You did as you were told, and his thick fingers came journeying through your soaked folds, and he toyed with your clit and slicked his fingers with your arousal. His index and middle finger circled around you: it was a sensation that you had dreamed of endlessly.

“Mm, Bin...” You moaned onto Jisung’s cock.

“Pretty pussy of yours must’ve missed this, hm? My fingers fucking your wet little cunt? I missed it too...”

You tried your best to maintain your strength once you had returned to sucking off Jisung’s dick, but you only seemed to unravel further. He rutted his hips into your mouth needily--an action which teased at your gag reflex, but you were stronger than that.

Jisung’s own slobber fell down the side of his neck which Changbin held, just so he could feel the way that he filled up his boyfriends throat. With his other hand, he dipped it further inside your pussy, fucking you slowly at first. You knew that he loved the way that your slick sounded on his fingers. In response, your helpless moans vibrated on your boyfriend’s dick.

“Y/n, I want your mouth too.” Changbin asked gravely with hooded and darkened eyes. You knew what you had to do next. His fingers slipped out from you, and you loathed feeling so empty, but you weren’t one to disobey him either.

Changbin made space for you to lay on your stomach next to Jisung and then tapped his wetted dick on your lips as well, leaving Jisung gasping next to you.

“Fucking show me how much you missed me.”

You took him in, and you had nearly forgotten how sizeable he really was. It was startling, and as soon as you took in his full length, you had to fight back tears over how thick he really was. Regardless, the way that he could stretch you out like this was purely addictive.

“Oh...fuck--baby...” Your boyfriends voice dropped several decibels. “My babies suck my dick s-so good don’t they?”

Jisung nodded in his wonder at you, and Changbin dipped his thumb into his mouth afterword. Jisung always did love the taste.

Changbin caressed your full cheek, “Don’t forget to share.”

You took a deep breath, then let Jisung take his turn again. As he did so, you resumed your work at jerking off his dripping tip, and he reached to slide between your folds with long fingers.

With both of your adoring glances, you and Jisung kissed and lapped up the sides of your boyfriend’s dick and his eyes rolled back at the ethereal sight.

“H-holy sh-shit--”

Your hips buckled once Jisung let his fingers plunge inside of you and high pitched mewls sent you clawing at Changbin’s hips for balance.

“W-wait...” Changbin pulled himself away, and you knew that he must’ve been practicing the best restraint he could. “Sungie, you wanna taste her pussy too? Taste how sweet she is?”

Jisung smiled widely, despite being a bit of slobbery and tear-stained himself.

“I’ve been waiting for months to!”

You looked to Changbin for approval.

“Sit on his face then sweetheart? Wouldn’t you like to ride his face for me?”

You nodded in your thrill, and the bedsheets crinkled under the sound of the three of you shifting your bodies back into the proper position.

As it often would, the windows to your room fogged with steam--even though it was a beautiful spring evening. Pillows were strewn everywhere, and some of them nearly fell off the bed. Nevertheless, you had never been cozier wrapped in the clean threads and with your sweating skin pressed against heated bodies.

Jisung firstly kissed at your wet lips, teasing and humming happily into them. He grabbed onto both of your thighs to open you further then pulled your folds apart to kiss directly on your bud--an action which sent you nearly screaming over how intense it all felt.

“You can be loud for us baby. There’s nothing to be scared of here.”

It was as if a switch had flipped within you, and each and every lap of Jisung’s tongue felt like the most euphoric sensation you had ever experienced. He looked utterly adorable under you with his pink and juicy tongue running stripes over your clit. Merely watching him like this was enough to bring you to your first orgasm.

“D-don’t stop S-sung...” You rolled your hips over his lips.

Changbin had snaked himself farther down Jisung’s body which glistened with a thin layer of sweat. He clicked the bottle of lube, then smoothed it over his length, finally aligning it over the smaller boy. Your hands grabbed out for something to hold onto: one of them within Jisung’s hair, and the other squeezing painfully into the headboard.

“Rough or slow Sungie?” Changbin laughed out wickedly.

“R-rough...” Jisung moaned onto your pussy, “H-hard...”

Changbin entered your boyfriend carefully, and both of them shuddered at the feeling. The room was full of all of your eroticism, and Jisung groaned out loudly at the connection. From the sounds your orgasm drew itself out too, and it was heightened even more when Jisung moved to pump his fingers deeply into you as well. He curved his fingertips in the way that grazed your cervix, and then sent you quivering pathetically over his face. Lower, Changbin dug his fingers into his boyfriends hips slamming into him without pause, and panting haphazardly.

“C-can yo-you cum for me??” Jisung whimpered in a way that was much too cute for his own good.

“Yes.” You answered, then fucked your hips over his plush lips and you clenched your teeth hard against your lip “Mm-fingers, Sung--please...”

Jisung did as he was told, and maintained his pace stimulating your g-spot then, and begging an orgasm out of your body. He himself whimpered like a puppy while he was fucked out. Had you not been focusing on your orgasm, you wished you could see it all happen.

“Ji--fuck--” Your hips violently shook, and you came with a searing heat that locked your walls tight around his fingers and dripped even further down your shaking thighs and splattered into his delicate features. It didn’t startle him at all, but he merely licked his lips free of your slick.

“B-Bin--” He gasped out, then you fell down in your aftershocks to watch the way that Changbin spread out your gorgeous boyfriend with sweat dripping down his chest and from his brow.

“Ride him, baby.” Changbin immediately ordered. “I want you to cum all over his dick, got it?”

With grabby hands, Jisung pulled you right into his chest once you had straddled him. He played with your nipples for a few fleeting moments as you got situated pushing his cock into your pussy still trembling from your last orgasm.

It was beautiful how he could fill you up like this. It was intimacy incomparable a closeness that only you had shared with him. In fact, he had actually been somewhat of a virgin when the three of you had met, and both you and Changbin were his first time. Knowing that he had only shared this part of himself with you and your boyfriend felt intoxicating in a way.

You flicked your hips over his length, and focused your strength on fucking him slowly compared to how relentless Changbin kept his pace at.

“I love you baby. Jisung, I love you so much.” You held his gaze.

Two tears fell from his cheeks--not out of sadness, but of his pure love for you.

He begged with a quivering lip, “Please kiss me.”

And you did. You kissed Jisung like he was as fragile as flower petals that could break with the smallest tear. You kissed his lips as sweet as candy and you kissed the last bits of your arousal away on the corners of his mouth.

Still, “Harder...” He begged, and your hips dipped lower and quicker over him.

“Want me to fuck you harder babyboy?”

Changbin threw his hands on your shoulders, then ran them down your spine to feel the way that you moved over Jisung’s dick.

“Want us to fuck you until you can’t say any more?” You tutted.

“Fuck, Sung, you feel so--”

“G-gonna make me cum-ngh!”

Changbin angled the boys hip up a bit further, and the sound of skin on skin filled the room.

You sang out the phrase, “~I didn’t hear you say it Sungie~”

Jisung’s face screwed up, and he gasped out loud enough for the neighbors to likely hear, but that didn’t matter in the slightest.

“Fuck me please.”

The thickness of the air in the bedroom clouded, and you fucked your beautiful boyfriend with your tightening walls as hard and as fast as you could, right until you brought yourself to the brink of another trembling orgasm, right over his dick. Changbin gifted a stinging slap to your ass then bit kisses into your shoulder right as you came undone for the second time, and Jisung’s eyes rolled to the back of his head once he came inside you at the very same moment. Your velvet walls tightened around his ribbons of cum inside and you collapsed against his gasping chest to warm him after his release.

Changbin set himself loose, groaning out loudly as he came too, and shook with delighted laughter that was mixed up in his happy little “oh’s.” and the hitch of his breath. His restless hands caressed every inch of your body that he could as he brought himself down, finally bowing down to kiss right into your shoulder blades and back. Jisung called out his boyfriend’s name too while he shook around him.

You coaxed yourself free of Jisung’s dick and Changbin wondered in the way that Jisung and made a creamy mess of your pussy. He then did the same watching how his seed spilled out of Jisung as well.

“Wow.”

The three of your sweating bodies clambered flat onto the mattress and the room fell quiet, leaving space for your breaths and the way that the spring evening sounded outside of your window: distant car horns, the hush of the breeze, the ebb and flow of the early arrival of cicadas.

“Are you okay?” Changbin asked the both of you with worried hands running over both of your sweating forms.

“Y-yeah. I am.” You smiled.

Jisung shied his flushed face with one of the bedsheets. “Me too.”

“I think...if you’d like, maybe the three of us could kind of, sorta, I dunno, stay connected for a little bit?” Changbin smoothed down the little hairs on your arm with the gentlest touch.

“If Y/n wants to?”

You exhaled peacefully into both of your boyfriends arms, and gave them a little hum to say yes. Changbin carefully wetted his dick with your slick, then guided himself into you pussy with his half hard dick, and it felt like a dream. Jisung too took a bit of lube in his hand as well, then pumped his dick with a shiver to then slide himself into your ass. The two of them swept over your body with light and fleeting kisses to your neck, shoulders, cheeks, nose and lips. You stayed the same: wonderfully full, and so close to them that it must’ve been unreal. While it hurt a little how they had stretched you out, you wiggled your hips still to feel even more of it. Your boyfriends sighed out at the feeling.

“Sweetheart, you do that any more and you’re gonna make us want to fuck you again.” Changbin scoffed.

“What if I want you to?” You traced the way that his deep brown hair curved over his ear. “What if I want you to fuck me like this...close...slowly...?”

“Sung?”

“If she wants to, I want to as well.”

Changbin held your hips firmly under the blanket, then started his slow thrusts into you with his dick that indulgently grew hard once more.

He whispered the promise over your lips, “We can do that for you baby.”

You don’t know how long the three of you had remained as such. Time became nothing of your concern as the night slipped on and both of them took every ounce of their time with you, slowly fucking up into your pussy and ass, the sounds of your slick renewed filled up the room. They brought out a couple more shaking orgasms from your core, each of them followed by careful kisses to soothe your shaking body.

“Such a good girl for us.” Jisung nibbled into your ear. His hand got tangled with the sheets too where he reached around to twist your nipples between his fingers.

“How do you want it baby? Do you want it inside?”

Changbin’s skin filled up your palm, then you slung a leg over his hip so he could hit your g-spot perfectly.

“P-please?”

“Of course. Sung?”

“--Mm-m’ close too.”

A few more moments of your symphonic moans, and you unfolded between them: one last orgasm that was so encompassing that you had slipped right into a space so safe, that you felt as if nothing in the world could touch you. Changbin finished off with unexpectedly adorable sounding grunt, and he throbbed within you to the tune of Jisung doing the same.

“Shit.” Jisung giggled, then nuzzled his head right into the nape of your neck.

“How was that angel?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

The three of you found solace in the skin on skin of it all: three people, three bodies that could be closer than two bodies ever could.

“Ready to clean off in our big-ass shower?” Jisung wiggled you in his giant hug.

“Small shower no more.”

“The problem is, who’s gonna get up first to get the water running?”

Condensation dripped down the windows, and the curtains blew softly with the spring air invading the room and carrying the smell of flowers and the mist lingering in grass.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Water dripped like rain over the pink of muscles and intermingled with the iridescent drops of soap bubbles which held little rainbows in and of themselves. Hair slicked to the sides of faces, and transparent streams coursed down the simple breaths on rising chests. Steam filled up your lungs, a reminder that it was all real.

You were here with them. It wasn’t some kind of dream that you had painted while in that room alone with yourself and the buzzing of a TV speaking in tongues that you didn’t know.

Even though they said nothing, but rather touched your body down, you could hear their thoughts like a melody.

They loved every bit of you, and it was written on their faces times two.

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

313 notes · View notes

ao3feed-destiel-02 · 3 months

Text

Wretched Things

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/azC651J by luv_moonyy When sixteen-year-old Dean Winchester volunteers in the 74th Hunger Games to take the place of his younger brother, Sam, he doesn’t have high hopes for making it home. His entire world comes crumbling down around him when immediately afterwards, his best friend is reaped beside him. Castiel Novak was twelve years old the first time his name was called at a reaping. He was seventeen when it happened to him again. A lot has changed in that time, one of those things being he is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure District Twelve another winner. Two names called, unbreakable family bonds threatened, and more secrets and grief between all of them than they know how to handle. Nobody is prepared for what comes next, or how far anyone will go to make it out alive. Words: 2693, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Gabriel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Crowley (Supernatural), John Winchester, various OCs, many others i’m likely forgetting Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Murder, Blood and Injury, Minor Character Death, People will die be warned, its the hungers games so there’s really no way around that sorry, romance despite the angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, complex… everything, this might be a long one so i’m definitely forgetting to tag some stuff, But overall, Angst, Death, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Attempt at Humor, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, medical and technical inaccuracies, The Author Regrets Nothing, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, no beta we die like men read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/azC651J

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #(your tags here)

0 notes

true-blue-megamind · 3 years

Text

FAN THEORY SUPPOSITION SUNDAY: The Warden

SPOILER WARNING! It’s still a thing, and, if you haven’t yet, you still need to watch Megamind. (If you have seen it already, however, you need to see it again. Because it’s awesome.)

Yes, yes, the post is three days late this time. Real life has to take priority and such. So sue me. (Don’t really do that. LOL!)

For that same reason—or more accurately because this week has exhausted me—I will attempt to make this post shorter than usual. We’ll see how that goes. My money is on “not well.” LOL.

Anyway, today we’re going to look at a subject that often divides the Megamind fandom: the Warden and his relationship with Megamind. There are several fan theories—I mean, suppositions—surrounding this, but I’m going to be focusing on a few of the main ones.

The first of these is that the Warden was actually a father figure to Megamind when he was young, allowing him to be raised in jail not out of cruelty or disinterest, but because it was the only way to keep him safe from shadowy government agencies that otherwise would have performed all sorts of experiments on the blue alien. This both accounts for why a child would be allowed to grow up in what is clearly a high-security prison for dangerous adult criminals—something that, admittedly, needs some sort of explanation—and fits with widely accepted sci-fi and comic book tropes. (From Area 51 to mysterious “Men in Black” type organizations, fiction is full of government agencies created to study extraterrestrial life and technology.) Some even go so far as to suggest that the Warden may have tried to adopt Megamind officially, but was blocked from doing so by these same entities. On top of this, such an idea also offers room to re-imagine the Warden as a much more interesting, complex, and sympathetic character. Indeed, there has been some excellent fan fiction written about this pseudo-parental relationship.

Art: Fathers And Sons Day by tabbydragon

There is some evidence to support this. The first is that, although the Warden behaves harshly toward Megamind in the “jail-break” scene near the beginning of the film, Megamind himself seems to be trying to engage in a playful exchange: pranking the older man, wishing him a good morning, and even teasing him. While some say that this is simply Megamind’s personality as well as his determination to always appear indominable, others suggest that, perhaps, the blue man is trying to recapture a lost amiability between himself and the prison Warden. It is possible that, when he was younger and less villainous, Megamind might have exchanged friendly jokes and greetings with the man in charge of the jail he called home. It has even been suggested that the Warden is so hard on the blue man at the beginning of the film not because he hates Megamind, but because Megamind’s life choices have hurt and alienated his father figure. This idea finds some support in the facts that, when Megamind leaves jail to confront Titan, the Warden wished him good luck, and at the end of the movie, that same man seems genuinely happy as he watches the television broadcast of his one-time prisoner being named Defender of Metro City. Finally, there is some evidence from the comics which, although not truly considered canon, as I’ve mentioned before, do offer some material for fan theories. In the “episode” entitled Bad Minion! Bad! Megamind runs into the Warden in a bar, and the latter offers the former advice. There is certainly a somewhat fatherly feel to the scene.

The second theory is exactly the opposite: that the Warden either did not care for or outright disliked the former supervillain. Unfortunately, as fun as the Warden/Father Figure concept is, this second, darker idea has far stronger evidence to support it in the film itself. (Try not to hate me, everyone.) These clues range from the obvious to the subtle, but there are quite a few of them to be found.

During the first scene in which we see Warden interact with Megamind, he doesn’t behave like an angry, disappointed father—at least not a good one. He isn’t merely surly toward Megamind; he is absolutely nasty. The Warden verbally condemns the alien, telling him that he’ll “always be a villain,” and essentially steals what he believes is a gift for the blue man, even taunting him by saying: “I think I’ll keep it!” This hardly seems like the actions of someone who once felt any sort of affection for the extraterrestrial. That same portion of the movie holds another clue as well: the screens monitoring Megamind’s brain activity. Indeed, in original concept art for the film, the system appears both more invasive and more nightmarish. It seems that, far from protecting Megamind, the Warden may have actually allowed him to be experimented upon.

Next, there is the newspaper article at the beginning of the title sequence, which bears the headline “Hometown Boy Makes Bad.” It’s hard to see what the paper says, of course, even if you bother to really notice it, but luckily for us Liz (Demishock) wrote a wonderfully thorough blog post which, among other things, provides a transcript of the “news story.” In it, the Warden is quoted as referring to young Megamind as a born villain as well as abnormal.

You don't know this kid. I've watched the little criminal since he was in diapers. This kid is just a bad seed. I've got experienced, hardened criminals in here who are afraid of him - I mean, have you seen the size of his head?… It's not like he's a normal kid… I mean, have you gotten a good look at his gigantic blue head? I don't know where you come from, but where I come it's just not right.

Granted, there seems to be some truth to what the Warden is saying, as the article also mentions that Megamind, who can hardly have been more than seven years old at the time, has basically been put into solitary confinement for the safety of other prisoners following an unnamed incident, adding that the other inmates “refused to point fingers for fear of retaliation.” (This fits with the fan theory that young Megamind would have had to both fight and develop a fearsome reputation in order to protect himself. You can read more about that in the post How Strong is Megamind?) However, the Warden seems to dwell a lot on the fact that Megamind looks alien, and he displays an obvious dislike for the young boy.

Finally, there is evidence hidden in the school scene, although it’s easy to miss. In an amazing two-part video series, Megamind: A City of Deception. YouTuber The Theorizer illustrates several hidden clues about Megamind’s early life and how it it led him to embrace villainy. (I will very likely write another post going into more detail about that at a later date.) One thing that The Theorizer discovered is a seemingly innocuous detail in the background during the popcorn scene. Take a moment to examine the images below. Look closely at the blackboard and you’ll see a paper cut out of a school bus. Look even more closely at that and you’ll find something odd: the bus is full of crayon-drawn children except for one figure: an adult male, riding in the back of the bus, who looks suspiciously like the Warden as he appears at the beginning of the film.

In a movie where so much attention is given to small things—I mean, seriously, the animation team actually went through the trouble to write a news story for a paper that was on the screen less than ten seconds—this cannot possibly be a coincidence. (You can learn more about the artists’ amazing dedication to detail in my post What’s Hidden in the Animation?) Although it is vaguely possible that Megamind, painfully aware of how much his appearance was despised, chose to draw the Warden’s face instead of his own, most fans believe there is a darker reason for this oddity.

Think about it: the Li’l Gifted School for Li’l Gifted Kids is built close by a jail with a strangely similar name: Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted. It’s clearly a small academy, yet the only two known aliens in the city—who, by the way, have extremely different social backgrounds—both just happen to attend there. And now the prison warden appears to be somehow involved with the elementary school? It’s bizarre. Add to this the fact that the young alien adopted by a privileged family—a boy who possessed super-strength and laser vision—seemed inclined to be a bully, (as is made obvious by the kickball scene,) and a disturbing fan theory emerges. Adults realized that Wayne Smith, the child who would eventually become Metro Man, might prove dangerous if left unchecked, and came up with a plan to turn him into a hero instead. Wayne was showered with praise, conditioning him to seek public approval, but a superhero needs a nemesis. The strange-looking, unwanted blue boy who’d already been labeled a criminal would have seemed like the obvious choice. If this is true, then Megamind was purposefully, albeit covertly, groomed to become a supervillain from a young age, and the Warden played a major role in doing that.

So there you have it. Two competing fan theories concerning the Warden’s connection with Megamind. Both have some evidence supporting them, and there are fans who are firmly dedicated to one or the other. Which is true? Did the Warden care for Megamind like a son but distance himself when the boy turned to villainy? Or did he judge and despise Megamind but come around to liking him when he finally realized what sort of person the blue man was deep down? The fact is that those questions can be argued for hours on end. No matter which of these suppositions you prefer, however, the mere fact that even a minor supporting character is complex enough to offer room for this debate speaks to the impressive amount of work and devotion that went into creating this amazing animated film.

#Megamind #Megamind movie #Megamind fan theory #fan theory #fan theories #fanon #Warden #the Warden #connection #relationship #relationships

181 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Danger First

Chapter 6

@pocketramblr another :)

Shouta trudged back to the staff break room. His counseling session with Midoriya had lasted a little over an hour, so while there were still teachers in the building, many of them had left. With the exception of semi-retired heroes like Recovery Girl, everyone working here had two full time jobs. Hizashi, despite his carefree air, had even more than that in the form of his radio show. Hizashi had probably left with the students.

But Hizashi wasn't either of the ones he wanted to talk to. Not today.

He opened the door. Three, no, four teachers were there, but Snipe didn't count, seeing as he was completely passed out on one of the couches with his gas mask half off. He must have had an early shift patrol today, poor sucker.

Nemuri was there, too, with most of her hero outfit on. She was applying her hero-grade makeup (water proof, resistant to three common contact poisons, and guaranteed not to react badly with mace).

More importantly, Kan and Yagi were both there, poring over papers on the same desk, no less. Shouta walked up to the table and looked down at sheets and sheets full of incomprehensible numbers.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"We-"

'Don't tell him!" said Kan, urgently. "This is going to be my class's leg up on Aizawa this time around."

"Haha! Good one!" Yagi slapped Kan's back, and apparently even in his skeletal form he could pack a punch, because Kan had the air knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Yagi continued, "I'm making personalized nutrition plans for his class!"

"What?"

"One of my undergraduate degrees was in nutritional and health sciences, after all!"

Wow, there was a lot to unpack there, but Shouta was more than happy to leave it in its box. He had other fish to fry and topics to interrogate. Small talk requirement fulfilled, he moved on.

"How well do you know Midoriya?"

Yagi blinked and put down his pencil. "Moderately so? We met about this time last year and have been meeting regularly since then."

So, so much to unpack.

"Why?"

"Ah, he... impressed me, I suppose? He was involved in the bodysnatcher incident last year."

That was an understatement.

"He had a lot of heroic spirit!" continued Yagi. "But... not so much in the, ah, body category. I thought it would be a shame, a waste, really, if he wasn't able to pursue his dream, and a hero school prep course wasn't really in the cards for him, considering his quirk status and the timing... And I did have this degree..." He waved his hands vaguely at the table. "I just gave him a little help."

"What brought all this on, anyway?" asked Nemuri. "Midoriya is the little green haired kid, right? One of Chibiida's new friends?"

"If you keep calling him that, I won't be held responsible for when he snaps and attempts murder. But, yes, that's Midoriya."

"So...?"

"He told me I was the best teacher he'd ever had."

Nemuri started laughing.

"Oh," said Yagi. "I'm glad the two of you are getting along so well."

"I think he's pulling your leg, Shouta," said Nemuri, coming over to pat him on his shoulder. "Man, I didn't think a friend of Chibiida's would have it in him. Such youth!"

"I cannot even begin to tell you how much he wasn't."

Nemuri's laughter died off.

"Judging from some comments he made today," said Shouta, "not to mention the discrepancies between his record and his observed behavior in the classroom, I'd say he's been the target of severe quirkism in the past, particularly from his teachers. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?"

Yagi's face darkened and the mood in the room grew much more somber. "Not in so many words, no. However... some of his comments about his teachers disturbed me enough to bring it to the attention of the Musutafu Educational Services District, but as an unrelated stranger without concrete proof..."

("You can use the acronym, you know," muttered Vlad.)

"You're telling me they ignored the number one hero."

Yagi made a face. "I didn't go to them as All Might. Can you imagine the media frenzy if I did that? I didn't want to paint that kind of target on young Midoriya's back."

That was fair, actually. If largely-anonymous Shouta had enemies, All Might had ten times as many. Not to mention supposed fans.

"Other avenues of inquiry were also fruitless," said All Might, countenance darkening. "I asked some of my police colleagues, but they don't have full discretion over the direction of their investigations, and, again, if I were to use my weight to move them... It would get out, and people would wonder why I was so concerned with an apparently normal middle school."

"Did you try talking to Nezu about it?"

"No? Why?"

Shouta reminded himself that although Yagi was an alumnus, he was also very new as a teacher, and was as of yet unfamiliar with Nezu's more interesting traits.

"I'm going to," said Shouta, "and you're going to come with me." He turned to Kan. "Have you heard anything from Bakugo about quirk discrimination?"

"All I've heard from him are explosions, threats, and some kind of complex I don't have nearly enough psychiatric training to- They're from the same school," he realized.

"Yeah."

Kan pinched his brow. "So, the sweet shy kid you keep gushing about-" Both Shouta and Yagi attempted to reassure Kan they weren't gushing, "-and the demon brat are from the same school."

"That is what their records say," agreed Shouta. "Did you know, Yagi?"

"Oh, that they knew each other? Yes. Actually, I was rather under the impression they were childhood friends, as Midoriya ran out to help him during the bodysnatcher incident."

Shouta grunted. It was possible. He hadn't seen the two of them interact, at any rate.

"I'm going to Nezu with you," said Kan, standing up. "No matter what else this hell school did, they deserve to suffer for inflicting Bakugo Katsuki on me with those recommendations full of lies."

"Why don't you just expell him if he's that bad?"

"Because he's talented, hardworking, and hasn't actually broken any rules except for the swearing. He's just a pain I wasn't prepared to deal with and will probably contribute more to my hearing loss than Yamada by the end of the year."

"Wait, wait," said Yagi. "What exactly are you expecting Nezu to do in this situation?"

"Well," said Nemuri, who still hadn't left yet, "let's just say there's a reason hid name is 'god' in the staff group chat."

Terrible did not even begin to describe how Izuku felt when he woke up. His skin was static. His mouth was dry in a way that hurt. It felt like a siren was going off in his brain, and also like it was too quiet. He wanted to both run all the way to the school and hide in his closet.

This, of course, left him paralyzed in bed.

He hadn't felt remotely like this since the first time someone had left spider lilies on his desk at school. What was wrong with him?

No, that was the wrong question. All signs pointed to him having Danger Sense. He was in danger. And also immobile in bed.

With a great deal of effort, he turned to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. The clock in the corner read 4:42. Far too early to call anyone. And yet...

With shaky fingers, he navigated to Mr. Yagi's contact information and pressed dial. To Izuku's surprise, it only rang once.

"Young Midoriya? Is something wrong?"

The sound of his voice loosened the terrible knot under Izuku's breastbone. "I- May-maybe? I don't- I don't know, I think so."

There were sounds of movement on the other side of the line. "What happened?"

"I just- just woke up, and I- I think it's Danger Sense. It- Something bad is going to happen."

"I'm on my way. Is your mother with you?"

"N-no. She's at a- at a tech conference in Tokyo. She won't be back until- until tomorrow. Mr. Yagi, I don't- I don't think it's something here. I think it's later... at the school."

There was a pause. "My boy, are you quite sure?"

Izuku's laugh was just a little hysterical. "I mean, I'm- I'm pretty new to this, but..." he'd like to think his flight or fight reflex would have a more constructive response to am immediate threat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you up, I should have waited-"

"Nonsense! Forewarned is forearmed, and time is one of the most valuable resources a hero can have! I'm still picking you up, I'll just-" Mr. Yagi coughed, "-take the car instead."

"The car? You mean Hercules!?" The excitement was enough to free Izuku from his paralysis and propel him into a sitting position.

"Well, yes, but, my boy, how did you know? I don't think I've ever mentioned the name in my interviews..."

"But you did! In one of your American interviews. It was for a local station and you and Mr. Shield were on together."

"But those were in English."

"I know! When I found out about them, it really motivated me to work on my English! I think I could probably pass the Level Two fluency test..."

"Young Midoriya, have I ever told you how glad I am that you aren't a villain?"

"Hikage, did Danger Sense ever make you feel this bad?" asked Nana as Yoichi fussed in the background.

"Super Anxiety made me feel this bad all the time. Sometimes, it made me feel worse. I got used to it."

Nana let out a sigh of relief. It sucked to Ninth right now, but if it was normal for the quirk...

"That's good, then," said En. "Not for Ninth, obviously, but if that's just how the quirk works, he'll be able to figure it out. What did it usually mean, when you felt like this?"

"Generally, that someone was planning on killing me in the next few hours."

Dead(er than usual) silence.

"Ah," said En.

"You know," said Nana, "sometimes the kinds of lives we led slips my mind, but then the universe is always real happy to turn around and slap it back into me."

Yoichi started screeching.

"Do you feel any worse now that we're here?" asked Mr. Yagi after shutting Hercules down.

"Not really," said Izuku. He slumped down in his seat and looked away. "I'm sorry, I dragged you out of bed and this is probably just a stupid pointless meaningless panic attack..." He felt tears begin to prick at the edges of his eyes. He was so stupid. And selfish. All Might could be out helping people right now. Or taking care of himself (which, according to Recovery Girl's comments during their training sessions, he didn't do nearly enough of).

"Hey, hey, there's no need to cry, it's alright."

"Because you're here?" asked Izuku with a sniffle.

"Well, yes, but also, even if it was 'just' a panic attack, I'd still want to be here for you." He reached across the central console to pat Izuku on the shoulder. Then his face twisted into something rather sheepish. "But on the subject of panic attacks, something did occur to me on the way here."

Izuku looked back down at his knees. "What is it?"

"This is the anniversary of the day we met."

Izuku... had known that, actually. Waking up as he had had driven it from his mind, but the date was marked on his calendar. He'd even gotten All Might a gift, although he hadn't yet talked himself into being brave enough to give it to him, and with what happened today, it would most likely languish in his desk drawer for an indefinite period of time as the idea of giving it became progressively more awkward.

"My boy? I can't quite make out what you're saying. You're mumbling."

Izuku clapped his hands over his mouth. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. I'm just an old man with hearing problems."

"You're not old! It's... I just- I just don't see how- how that's connected to this." He gestured at himself in all his vaguely-trembling glory.

"Young Midoriya... you almost died three separate times that day. That's traumatic. And sometimes anniversaries are... reminders."

"I only almost died once?"

"The first time with the sludge villain, grabbing on to my leg- and I don't think I ever apologized for telling you to let go, I was just so surprised- and then the sludge villain again."

"But I only almost died the first time..." He trailed off as Mr. Yagi gave him a look. He'd thought his mother was the only one who could give looks like that... "Do you really think this is connected to that?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Yagi. "Do you feel like it might be?"

"I don't know," said Izuku. He bent over and knotted his fingers in his hair.

"Do you think it might help to stay home today?"

"No!" yelped Izuku. "No," he repeated, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Alright, alright. Never fear, my boy." Mr. Yagi gave him another steadying shoulder pat. "In that case, let's go into this with the assumption that this is danger sense, and it is attempting to warn you of a real threat."

"Okay," said Izuku. He rubbed at his eyes. "What do we do first?"

Mr. Yagi tensed and looked up at the top floors of UA. "Well..."

"Hm!" said Nezu. "That is something of a conundrum! The extent of your quirk is unclear, and it is not properly registered, so we cannot go through the official routes we normally would for a warning given through a precognitive or clairvoyant quirk, even given that we are aware of One for All and the probable nature of Danger Sense."

Nezu knowing about One for All had been a bit of a surprise. In retrospect, maybe it shouldn't have been. All Might would have had to tell Nezu something so that Izuku was allowed on campus before he was really a student, and seeing as how All Might was originally teaching here to find a successor... well, it made sense. Izuku just wished he'd been told.

How many other people knew was a question for later, however.

"Your inexperience with the quirk and other circumstances further complicates the matter."

"Sorry," said Izuku.

"Whatever for? It isn't your fault." Nezu did not wait for an answer. "Then there is yesterday's incident to consider... You say you felt something with the reporters?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Hm. Yes. Toshinori, I so believe you have a contact who could clear this up much more efficiently."

"I know," said Mr. Yagi. "He isn't picking up his phone."

"You don't think-?" started Izuku.

"No, no, he just hasn't been speaking to me lately."

"Oh? I was under the impression you had been communicating with him regularly since returning to Musutafu."

"He thought I would change my mind about something I didn't change my mind about, apparently. It doesn't matter. What else can we do?"

"A good number of things, luckily. Midoriya, I am going to make a series of phone calls. I would like you to tell me if the sensation you are experiencing changes at all while I make them."

"Yes, sir."

Nezu began methodically going through Izuku's list of teachers, warning them that something 'like yesterday' might happened and going over lesson plans and safety procedures. Nothing really changed. Until Nezu called Thirteen.

(Oh, gosh, they were going to go to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint on a field trip today? That was so cool!)

But after Nezu talked to Thirteen about checking safety systems, a little bit of the tension he'd been holding onto leaked away.

"Interesting," said Nezu. "Perhaps we should reschedule rescue training until-"

Izuku dove for Nezu's garbage bin.

"-or perhaps not," mused Nezu as Izuku expelled the meager contents of his stomach.

It was a good thing he hadn't eaten breakfast.

"Hikage," said Banjo. "I'm sorry for calling you a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard with a warped sense of humor if this is what you had to put up with all the time."

"You called me a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard?"

"Not to your face, but yes."

"Well. It isn't as if those things aren't all true..."

"I'm okay," said Izuku. "That just... felt bad."

"No cancelations in that case," said Nezu as Mr. Yagi hovered.

"Y-yeah. Oh gosh, now I know how Uraraka feels..."

"Perhaps you should stay home-"

"No! I can't! That would be..."

Nezu held up his hands- paws? "It was merely a suggestion. Can I offer you some tea?"

"Yes, please," said Izuku, voice catching uncomfortably on his raw throat.

"I do have a few more calls to make. Do you feel up to staying, or would you prefer to head down to Recovery Girl? Or perhaps even the cafeteria? I imagine you haven't eaten breakfast."

"I'd like to stay."

"Very well." Nezu picked up his phone again. Izuku could just make out the click on the other end when it was picked up. "Am I a mouse? A dog? A bear? One thing's for sure! I'm the principal!" There was laughter on the other end of the line. "No, not at all! I am in fact calling for you, Tensei. Or should I say, Ingenium? I'm aware this is last minute, and you were planning on taking the day off- How do I know? It was quite simple, really- but between the break-in yesterday and a tip I received this morning regarding a threat to the school, I would like a few more hands on deck than usual. Why, yes, you can stay with your brother's class. Do try not to tease Shouta too much. He has a reputation to maintain." After a few more pleasantries, Nezu hung up. "Midoriya?"

"I... think that's better? I'm sorry, it's hard to tell what could be the quirk and what's just me feeling bad."

Nezu nodded. "In that case, I do recommend that you head to Recovery Girl's office. My other calls will be similar, and the other heroes will not be with your class."

"Why not?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Because Midoriya's reaction to the field trip being canceled suggests that the danger may not be limited to himself or his class. Oh! And one more thing. Midoriya, I noticed that you put in some costume alteration requests. Naturally, most of them will not be finished until some time next week, however, some of the support items you mentioned are fairly common. If you have time before the field trip, you should pay a visit to Power Loader."

Izuku hadn't expected it, but he did feel much better after eating, despite his continuing sense of impending doom. It was also about half an hour from the beginning of homeroom, so he had the time to go to the support department and check if they had anything he could take.

He hoped they had grappling hooks. Izuku had always wanted a grappling hook.

Mr. Yagi took him most of the way there, but students had started to arrive at this point, and Izuku convinced him to go prepare for classes (and hide in the staff area so that no one would wonder why he, a skeleton man not recognizable as a hero, was at the school). Before too long, Izuku stood in front of a rather sturdy-looking metal door. He hoped this was the right one.

He raised his hand to knock just as something crashed into him. Ah. This was it for sure. The way he would die. The danger he had foreseen.

No. Wait. Never mind. He was fine, just on the ground.

"Oh! There was a person there! You okay?"

"U-um," said Izuku, sitting up and rubbing his head. "I'm fine, just a little startled."

"What're you doing here, anyway?"

"I- I'm here for... support... gear?" He sort of trailed off as he looked up.

It was the intense pink haired girl from the other day. As he watched, her expression changed from one of mild concern to calculating interest.

"Support gear, you say?"

Shouta answered his phone as he walked down the hall. "Nezu, I've already done every security check I can think of that'll fit-"

"Not quite why I was calling, although I can see why you would think so. One of your students needs to be rescued from the support department."

Shouta changed direction without missing a beat. "It's Midoriya, isn't it?"

"Why, yes."

"Did you send him down there without warning him?"

"Yes, again. You know me so well!"

Shouta hung up.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #danger first au #danger first #fic #fanfic

96 notes · View notes