#clearly I must be so awful if all I get in life is abuse

[blimpintime]

warmth azriel x reader

Based on this ask!

this is my first time writing for Azriel!

warnings: past abuse

word count: 840 words

is unedited

Tumbling down the side of the rocky hill, you manage to hit and scrape every part of your small, frail body on the freezing rough ground. Small wings bleeding and bent at odd angles twitch on your back as you finally stop moving. 

You hear laughter above you and making its way towards you. Groaning and spitting out blood and saliva out of your mouth as they reach you. Being ten is one thing in Illyria, being a ten year old bastard daughter in Illyria is another thing.

The boys that shoved you down the hill in the first place are trying to get you to the river to drown you, you have figured that out pretty quickly, but because of having a rough life from the get go you won't be going down without a fight.

It’s a struggle getting back on your feet, your wings being clipped a week prior and now broken and mangled making it hard for you to balance. 

“Look at her, she is pathetic.” One of them snickers, you look at the two standing before you, the tall figures looking hazy under the moonlight. 

“It’s a wonder she’s lasted this long in the first place. Look at how small she is. We are doing her a favor putting her out of her misery.”  

“One day, I will kill you both.” You say with a bloody grin, “It might not be today, or tomorrow but I will do it. With a smile on my face.” You spit blood out at their feet. 

It must have been the look of determination or maybe desperation on your face, but the two boys took a step back, and then laughed. 

“Sure, but you’re dead tonight bastard bitch.” And they start making their way towards you. 

“What did you call her?” A voice appears.

And three figures emerge from the tree line.

You cough a laugh out, and fall to your knees. A comforting warmth appears beside you helping you stand.

“You okay?” And it’s Azriel standing tall and brave before you, even at just twelve years old. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You say with a grin.

Dinner was always loud and fun with the family all together, Cassian and Nesta seeing who could out drink one another. Feyre and Rhysand egging them on and placing bets, and then you and Azriel silently watching them with warmth and humor.

“Oh to the mother you know damn well if any one here can out drink you it's her.” Rhysand says and gestures to you, to which you balk and choke on your drink you were sipping on. 

Azriel’s hand gently rubs your back with a knowing smile on his face. You feel love and mirth through the bond. Everyone has their eyes on you expecting to join in on the bets. 

“Ah, that’s not something I need to prove Cassy.” You say with a wink and he pouts. “Plus, I cannot drink right now.” 

Feyre drops her glass and it breaks. “Shut the fuck up.” She says while launching toward you with a smile, clearly being more tipsy than anyone was expecting. “Nyx is going to have a cousin.” She says with a sob.

“Feyre darling careful-” Rhys winces and tries to get out before she tackles you. Everyone has huge grins on their faces. 

“So? How long have you known?” Nesta asks softly. 

“About three months.” Azriel responds with a warm smile. 

“Well, that brings up one question I have.” Cassian says with a burp, you wince and call him gross. 

“Who is going to be the scary parent?” Cassian asks with a drunkenly serious face. 

“Obviously, y/n.” Nesta and Feyre say. Rhysand rubs his chin in thought and nods. “Yes, that's true.” 

Azriel looks shocked and you hide a grin in his shoulder. 

“Awe, Azzy don’t look so shocked.” Nesta says with a drunken snort. “Your mate is literally a reaper.” And she’s not wrong, you got the nickname centuries ago when you picked up a scythe as the weapon you preferred to fight with. You and Azriel often got the title of the Shadow and Reaper when put on missions together. 

The dinner soon comes to an end when Nesta and Cassian pass out on the couches, Feyre asleep on the table and Rhys coaxing her to get to an actual bed. 

“I love our family.” You whisper to Azriel as he puts your beanie on your head for you. He drags his hands down to your face, squishes your cheeks and kisses your nose. 

“I love you sweets.” He responds to you and then helps you put your shaw on for the cold walk home. You giggle and help him put his gloves on for him. 

You both head home down the path, leaning into one another with the snow lightly falling. But for some reason because of him you only feel warmth. And even though you live together you wish the walk was a little longer, just to enjoy that peaceful quiet love with Azriel.

a/n: YAYYYYY! okay so this is it! please lemme know how y'all feel!

my asks are still open right now!

[liesmultixxx]

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[ikaroux]

How are they with their pregnant companion? Capitano, Kaveh + Bonus.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Alert: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Capitano, Kaveh + 1 Bonus rewrite.

Note: Did you notice that with this series, I work by paragraph? I try to make a maximum of 14 paragraphs per character and 4 or 5 for the NSFW part. Did you know that a pregnant woman's sexual appetite actually decreases during pregnancy? But I assume that this is not the case for all women, and our genshin men are so sexy, how could we resist them?

Since I now have an AO3 account, I decided to rewrite the first versions of this series to post them on it. I hope you'll still enjoy them.

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham.

Part 4 Cyno, Ayato.

Part 5 Tighnari.

"No one is allowed to enter ma'am."

The Fatui guards blocked your way, preventing you from reaching your companion. "I must see Capitano, it's important." You tried your luck again, trying to force your way through, but the two men, clearly stronger than you, pushed you back as if you weighed nothing. One of them wrapped his hand around your arm, the iron grip he put on it making you wince in pain. "Our captain is not seeing anyone today." And he shoved you violently backwards, causing you to fall. "You brute! Let me in! I'm his fiancé!" The two men looked at each other for a few seconds before a loud laugh escaped from them. You looked at them with bewildered eyes, pondering what was funny about what you had said. The larger of the two was the first to calm down, stepping forward calmly before bending down to grab your already sore arm. He lifted you up violently, pulling you towards the exit. "Enough joking, get out where I should show more… Firmness." You were ready to scream in order to alert your lover, until a squeak from his colleague got your attention. The man manhandling you was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder and when he turned around, he could only see that his captain, your fiancé, was standing behind him, a menacing aura emanating from him. "Lo-Lord Capitano, this woman she-" Capitano's hand came down on his subordinate's wrist, applying a force to it that forced the soldier to release you. "Silence, wait for me here. We'll discuss what just happened later." The man shuddered, stepping aside to let Capitano pass as he gallantly guided you to his office. Once the two of you were alone, you threw yourself into his arms, thanking him for helping you. The man returned your embrace, caressing your back with great gentleness. "I'm sorry for what just happened. What are you doing here my sweet? You should have told me you were coming to see me." You smiled at him as you pulled away from his embrace. Taking his hands in yours, you placed them on your stomach with a bright smile on your face… "You'll be a father soon…" Capitano remained silent for a long time, his masked face still turned to his hands. O Tsaritsa, he was going to have to be much more cruel to the one who had abused you in front of his door. Capitano slowly removed his mask, exposing his battle-scarred features, and then lifted you off the floor, placing you on his incredibly tidy desk. He leaned in, placing kiss after kiss on your lips…

Capitano didn't want a child. War, fighting, the cruelty of this world and death were part of his daily life. But you changed his world. With you, he discovered love, the warmth of a home and the happiness of a family. He quickly imagined himself with his baby in his arms, although an illogical fear was born in his heart. It would be so small compared to him. Did his hands, covered in blood, have the right to touch such a frail and defenseless being? Fortunately, you were by his side to reassure him and guide him toward the future that awaited you both.

Unfortunately, your beloved captain often had to leave for missions entrusted to him by the Tsaritsa. He was never reluctant to leave to accomplish his duty, even if he had to go away from you… He missed you, no doubt, but Capitano was a committed man, faithful to the justice he believed in. But now that you were pregnant, every time he had to leave, his heart was heavy with sorrow. What if something happened to you while he was away? He would ask his superior, Pierro, to watch over you, even from a distance, so that he could leave with peace of mind.

Capitano was already very protective of you. Pregnancy has only strengthened this affectionate side that he usually hid from the world. Believe it or not, you don't want to know what he can do to those who want to hurt you…

When you both sleep, you have taken the habit of curling up against him. Capitano is a light sleeper, and the slightest movement puts him on alert. By the time sleep takes over, he will look at you for a long time, wrapping an arm around your waist and then touching your stomach. He could see that it had become slightly rounded. A peaceful smile spread across his face as he kissed your head resting on his chest with a sigh of contentment.

As soon as he has some time to himself, Capitano will gladly agree to do some shopping with you for the birth of the child. This tall man with an impressive build tended to stand out in the stores, especially since he refused to go out without his mask. However, you kept your cheerful nature, presenting baby clothes with a big smile on your face to your companion who stood beside you, one hand resting tenderly on your lower back, admiring your every move.

Capitano likes to position himself behind you to put his big hands on your belly. He may be content to stay that way, looking over your shoulder while you go about your business. Tender kisses on your neck and jaw will make you smile with amusement and tenderness as he caresses your lower belly, feeling at times the movements of his child…

A little habit that you both have developed: the bath. A privileged moment between the two of you, allowing you to enjoy the warmth and contact of your companion while Capitano savored the sight of your body transforming little by little. He was probably the one who enjoyed this intimacy the most, knowing full well that no one would come and disturb you. His tender and loving side came out wonderfully as he held you in his arms.

Capitano does not want to talk about you and his unborn child with other Harbingers. Other than Pierro, he doesn't trust others enough to keep you safe. He was not fooled about Pulcinella, the man hiding dark ambitions. Arlecchino was a manipulator with a heart of ice, a form of madness eating away at her. The rest of the executors were no better… Perhaps he could make an exception with the eleventh? He had never spoken to him, but he thought Tartaglia would probably be good advice with the children…

Your companion had a very soft, calm and steady voice. Every time he talked to you, you could feel the baby react to the sound of his voice. When you told him, Capitano just smiled, looking away from you. Was it a blush you could see on his ears?

Capitano will be less stingy with his tender words when he's alone with you. Your pregnancy seems to have softened him up a lot and he'll find it much easier to express his feelings towards you. Every "I love you" or "I missed you" he says will be a real treasure for you.

Capitano will be a strict but loving father. He will dedicate his life to his child and of course to you. He will do his best not to be a burden to his son/daughter, as his reputation as the strongest man in all of Teyvat may weigh down such small shoulders.

NSFW Bonus

Capitano would keep his distance from you to prevent his carnal needs from doing you more harm than good. He knew he was rough and sometimes a little mean when he couldn't control himself. Yet it was you who came to him, confessing that you needed him, that you wanted him. How could he resist you?

The doors of his office were still locked by one of you, leaving the field free for your fiancé to lie down on his desk, abruptly pushing on the floor anything that could have hurt you. Taking care to remove his mask before starting anything, his lips would find your mouth as soon as he was free of it. His hands greedily roamed your body, removing the clothes that were in his way. His eyes landed on your belly, which had quickly taken on a few curves, causing a glint of excitement to shine in his pupils. His hands slid tenderly over it, admiring the way your belly was inflating with each breath. It was his child growing inside you. He was the one who had made you pregnant. It made his member harder and harder every time he thought about it. Pulling gently on your legs, Capitano pressed himself against you, making you moan with anticipation as you felt the hardness in his pants against your you. He wanted to make you scream with pleasure, to let the guards outside his door know what he was doing to you and that you were his. No one would dare laugh at you again when you said you were his fiancé or that you were carrying his child.

Capitano wished he had been gentler with you, for fear of hurting his child. But his instincts told him otherwise… Still, he had asked a Fatui doctor for advice about your sexual relations. He was reassured when it was explained that there was no risk to the baby and that sex could even be beneficial in easing the delivery.

While his long fingers took their time preparing you to receive him, Capitano stood straight in front of you, watching your every reaction. Seeing you squirm on his desk, red and moaning at his ministrations made his member more painful than ever. He waited to make you cum on his fingers before slowly removing his sex from its fetters, his eyes never leaving your breathless form. Positioning himself at your entrance, Capitano took your knees between his hands, spreading your legs further apart before he began to thrust. He knew he was big, but you had always taken him without complaint. As soon as he felt your walls give way to his invasion, he immediately began to pound you with force, making his desk creak. Your screams of pleasure made him smile as he heard the murmurs of the guards behind his door. Ceasing to keep his distance from your lips, Capitano let go of your legs to bend toward you, careful not to crush your belly as he used his forearms to lean on the wood of the desk. With a muffled grunt, he kissed you, enjoying the feel of your hands pulling his ebony hair.

Capitano rarely moaned, but when he felt your orgasm tightening his member like a vise, he couldn't stop the pleasure he felt from vibrating his vocal cords. Instead of going slow to follow you, his thrusts became rougher, a dull growl escaping his throat each time he hit your hips. He clenched his fists as he felt his orgasm pouring into you. God, if you weren't already pregnant, he wouldn't have hesitated to do it again… But you were exhausted, the pregnancy taking all your energy. Capitano withdrew, taking the time to kiss your belly before lifting you up in his arms to lie on his couch. Covered by his long coat, you looked at him with loving eyes. You drew him to you, demanding his caresses and kisses. Capitano sighed against your lips, his heart beating with adoration for you.

"Pregnant!"

Kaveh inadvertently shouted through the streets of Sumeru, startling a few passersby as they went about their business. The architect inhaled sharply, grabbing your wrist to take you to a quieter place. Once out of sight, he took your face in his hands, plunging his beautiful gaze into yours. "Are you pregnant?" You smiled at him, tenderly wrapping a hand around his wrist before placing a light kiss on it. Kaveh couldn't believe his ears, his heart drumming in his chest as he seemed about to burst with happiness. Gently, he brought his face closer, pressing his forehead against yours, exhaling a shaky breath from his mouth. As he closed his eyes, a dreamy smile stretching his lips, Kaveh wondered how he had managed to survive so many years without you by his side. You were a blessing in his life, an angel fallen from heaven who offered him love and home. "Thank you my love. Thank you." Simple words in his mouth, yet loaded with emotion. You embraced him, celebrating your happiness to come.

Kaveh had moved in with you, leaving the hell of collocation with Alhaitham for boundless happiness with you. Although his shoulders were still weighed down by the astronomical debt of his latest masterpiece, Kaveh kept his head high, continuing to work hard on numerous projects to clear his debt. He didn't want his problems to cause you stress, especially during pregnancy…

Kaveh took care of everything at home. He would let you rest, especially when he heard you getting up at night to vomit… He would stay with you, holding your hair and helping you clean up afterwards. As soon as you returned to bed to go back to sleep, your companion would encourage you to lie down in his arms, stroking your forehead and hair until your eyes grew heavy.

Since Kaveh couldn't really afford to buy anything for you and your child, he decided to use his architectural skills. He will design and build with the help of Tighnari and Collei a crib and rocking chair and a whole lot of beautiful furniture for the baby's room.

As your belly gets rounder, Kaveh will make it a habit every morning to kiss your belly, saying a sweet "Hello" to his baby before getting up and kissing you tenderly.

Your partner will often offer you afternoons on your terrace. Comfortably seated on cushions, Kaveh would hold you between his legs, one hand on your belly while he read you the book of your choice. You could also just listen to him humming a Sumeru tune, savoring his lips on your scalp.

Alhaitham and Kaveh were "friends". Sure, it was a strange friendship, but the two supported each other in their own way. That's why you weren't surprised when Alhaitham knocked on your door, his face expressionless, holding a teddy bear in his arms… Kaveh looked at his friend with a strange grimace on his face and you couldn't help but laugh at the sight. It was over tea that you were able to chat with Kaveh's friend, sharing with him your wishes for your child.

Arguments were rare in your relationship, but sometimes you felt like your hormones were getting the best of you. You could go from pure anger to tears of sadness after an argument. Kaveh understood your problem and always made sure to hug you, whispering in your ear that he was sorry and that he loved you…

The first time you called Kaveh to put his hand on your belly, the man was speechless as he felt his little one moving around inside. The following times, your companion could not help but tell his baby about his day or even complain about Alhaitham and the wise men or his mom who had gently scolded her for nonsense. With your ear pressed against you, your arms wrapped around your hips, you stroked his hair, rolling your eyes with an amused smile as you listened to your companion confess to your child.

Kaveh often told you that he wished it was a girl. He knew that little girls had a stronger bond with their fathers, especially at a young age. Of course, if you gave birth to a boy, he would spoil and cherish him just as much.

Every outing you took, Kaveh would stand by your side, protecting you from crowds and careless passersby who might inadvertently punch you in the stomach. If someone dared to push you around, the anger in Kaveh's voice and the strength he used to push the person away shocked you every time. Yet you were the one who calmed him down, reassuring him of your health by taking his hand and placing it on your stomach. "You see, our baby is fine." You said to yourself as your child was having fun doing somersaults. Kaveh sighed, calming his nerves before smiling and kissing your forehead apologetically. "I rather think he wants to defend his mother, like his father…" You laughed at his comment.

Between the two of you, Kaveh was definitely the one who was dreading the delivery the most. The closer the date got, the more the fear that the delivery would go wrong invaded his mind. He didn't want to lose you or the baby. His fear could be contagious, fortunately, it was your friends who reassured you. Alhaitham, Tighnari, Collei, Nilou, Layla and even Cyno. All of them promised you that everything would go well and that the doctors who would take care of you were used to deliver even the most difficult babies. This will not stop Kaveh from cuddling you every day, enjoying your closeness and warmth until the big day.

Kaveh will be a very loving and devoted father to his child. He loves to hold his baby in his arms, showing others how perfect his child was. He loves to kiss his chubby cheeks.

NSFW Bonus

Kaveh was the kind of man who was into romance. Whenever he wanted you, he made it clear in a roundabout way. Soft kisses on your lips, sensually running down your neck. Or soft words whispered in your ear as he slowly led you to your room decorated with flowers and some lit candles… But you were the opposite of him.

The first time you felt the irresistible urge to feel him inside you, you pulled him to your room, kissing him fiercely, drawing a surprised moan from his throat. Not having the time to grab your hips to avoid falling, you pushed him onto the bed, spreading him out beneath you. His shocked eyes stared at you as you straddled him, bending towards him to claim his mouth again. Kaveh felt like his body was boiling from the inside out as you wrapped your tongue around his, rubbing your hips against his pelvis. He could feel his member hardening at the sight of you, his eyelids closing sharply at the sudden invasion of desire. Was he allowed to have you while you were pregnant? In doubt, he gently pulled you away from him, slowly catching his breath before asking, "W-Wait, isn't this going to be dangerous for the baby?" He shuddered as you rolled your eyes before smiling at him, your hands clutching at your top to slowly remove it. Kaveh's eyes couldn't turn away from you as he admired your bare body. Hesitantly, he raised his hands to you, first caressing your round belly before moving higher, kneading your breasts free of your bra. He grunted when you moved your hips again…

Kaveh let you undress him, welcoming you into his arms once you were done. He liked to see you sitting on top of him, stroking his member against yours to coat it with your arousal. Kaveh closed his eyes tightly as he felt you slide down his member, his hands coming to rest on your hips to help you get off him. As soon as he opened his eyelids again, he felt his cheeks heat up sharply at the sight of your flushed face, his eyes closed by the feeling of pure happiness that overwhelmed you. To see you in this state, with his member buried in you and the round belly of his child made him mad with desire.

Kaveh took you by surprise when he tightened his grip on your hips, using his feet as a fulcrum to start penetrating you hard. It was not in his habit to behave like this, usually preferring gentle sex. But his sudden brutality made you scream with excitement. Kaveh had never felt this way. Desire was running through his head as he concentrated on the pleasure he was feeling as he pounded into you with force. The noises you were making were making him dizzy and when you called out his name, begging for more, Kaveh knew he was lost. Turning suddenly, careful that nothing hurt your stomach, your lover grabbed your knees, pinning them in the crook of his arms. Despite the haze of desire that prevented him from thinking properly, Kaveh was still careful that the position was not uncomfortable for either you or the baby. As soon as he got your go-ahead, he started pounding you again with rigor.

Kaveh never held back his moans, openly expressing the pleasure he felt when he made love to you. He knew it turned you on to hear him moan your name, your own voice getting louder every time he panted in your ear. He whispered to you how good it felt, how much he loved you and how happy you made him. Sweating, Kaveh slowly felt his end approaching as your walls began to tighten around him. As your screams became more and more high pitched, he applied more force in his thrusts to help you reach your orgasm. Your name came out of his mouth in a final moan as he felt himself coming at the same time as you. His hips slowed their rhythm until they stopped completely. Kaveh slowly separated from you, falling down beside you, out of breath and exhausted… Gradually regaining his senses, he started to sit up to see how you were doing before being interrupted by your hand pushing him back against the bed. A smile was frozen on his lips as he watched you straddle him again, a smug expression on his face. God, you were insatiable and terribly sexy as he watched your hand slowly caress your belly until it fell on his member… He felt that the next few months of pregnancy were going to be a real physical ordeal for him…

"Diluc I… I'm pregnant."

Diluc dropped the quill he used for signing several contracts with Fontaine's clients, staining the papers beneath. His round eyes stared at you as he kept his mouth slightly open. You could see his hands trembling as he backed up in his chair, clearly frightened by your admission. He could feel the world spinning around him, dizziness clouding his ability to think. He didn't understand how this could have happened, knowing that you were both protecting each other. You were everything to him, his life, his heart, his world, and now you were giving him a child. He was happy but also so scared… Yes, Diluc was afraid. Scared of losing you. Scared of hurting you. Scared of… Not being a good father. He had never known his mother, who died at birth, and his father, whose sudden and violent death left him with deep scars in his heart. What if the same thing happened to you as to his mother? Or if Diluc suffered the same fate as his father? He couldn't bear it… He would never forgive himself, even in death. Your lover gasped when he felt your fingers gently caress his cheek, taking him away from the dark thoughts that were invading his mind. "Diluc, darling calm down." - You cuddled his cheekbones, then his ear, before tangling your fingers in his hair and pressing his forehead against yours. The gentleness in your eyes calmed his doubt-ridden heart and he finally allowed himself to breathe peacefully. - "You will be wonderful. You always have been." - His hands had stopped shaking as he took yours in his. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. The fear had left him. Happiness was right there in front of his eyes, he loved you so much and he will love this little being that you both had created just as much.

Diluc has always been very considerate and gentle with you. And he was even more so since your pregnancy. Every word, every caress he offered you made you feel like you were falling in love with him all over again.

During your seventh week of pregnancy, the problems associated with it became more and more complicated to bear, often forcing you to lie in your marital bed with a cold cloth over your eyes. The pain pounding in your head and nausea were especially bad in the morning. Although Diluc had a lot of work to do, he stayed by your side, moving your head to his thighs to massage your temples and forehead. He hated seeing you in so much pain and not being able to do anything about it. So he asked some friends what could help you with your nausea. Lisa advised him to make you a ginger drink, which was well within Diluc's capabilities.

Your companion has always been a protective man. Too protective. You knew he had deep-seated fears about you, and the thought of anything happening to you while he was away terrified him. Of course, you weren't going to complain about spending more time with him, but you didn't want him to put aside his business or nightly duties for you. So you gently scolded him, reminding him that you weren't made of sugar, just pregnant. With a tender smile, you kissed him, promising him that you would take care of yourself while he was away.

You stopped counting the number of times Diluc put his hands on your belly, savoring the curves that were gradually taking shape. He loved to caress it while he held you close. It was a warm and intimate moment, taking advantage of the private time between you to bury his face in your neck and kiss you. Most of the time he kept his eyes closed, imagining your life when the baby was born. That reality took on a clearer shape in his brain when he felt his baby move against his hands for the first time. Tears welled up in his eyes, wondering if it was possible for him to be happier.

As soon as sleep came, Diluc, who tended to fall asleep later, would lie down next to your belly, placing tender kisses on it before whispering sweet nothings to his baby. "I'll protect you and mom.", "I love you both so much." His baby would respond positively to his voice, pressing against your belly to form a small bump. Diluc would smile, responding to his child by stroking that spot.

Diluc had gotten into the habit of helping you support the weight of your belly when you went out. He could see that it was getting harder and harder for you to stand, so whenever he could, Diluc would go behind your back, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your hips. His large hands would reach under your belly, helping you support the baby's weight. Who cares if people looked at him, didn't he have the right to support his wife? Plus, it made it easier for him to kiss you, his lips brushing your shoulder, neck and jaw with tenderness before whispering his love for you.

Your husband was an excellent cook, and although Adelinde was the one who did most of the cooking, Diluc wanted to prepare it for you personally. He insisted on using only the best produce, even going so far as to have the fruits and vegetables he needed planted in the estate gardens. This man loved to shower you with affection, which is why he would bring you a beautifully flowered tray to bed every morning, with a dish he had specially prepared on top.

Diluc didn't care if his child was a boy or a girl, he only cared that it was healthy and safe. The fear of childbirth had never left him, and as the due date approached, the fear gripped his heart. He vowed to stay by your side and hold your hand during the birth, making sure to call on the best doctors and midwives in all of Mondstadt to accompany you through this ordeal.

When you reached the eighth month of pregnancy, Diluc caught you looking at yourself half-naked in front of the mirror, studying your round belly as he slowly ran a hand over it, his lips stretched by your sweet smile. Diluc admired the scene, his eyes shining with love. The baby would be here soon and he thought, seeing you like this, that you would be an incredible mother. Diluc silently approached, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his hands on yours. His eyes stayed on your reflection as he felt you melt further into his embrace. Diluc sighed, happy and content.

Upon learning of your pregnancy, Kaeya had decided to spend more time at the Dawn Winery, trying to ease Diluc's shoulders by being with you. This was difficult at first, as there was always an icy coldness between them. But as the weeks went by, the two men began to speak cordially to each other. You could sometimes see them smiling at each other as they talked about the baby and how Kaeya would be the best uncle in Teyvat. The gifts he gave for your child always ended up in the baby's future room. A stuffed animal that resembled an owl would wait warmly in the crib for the arrival of the Ragnvindr offspring.

Sometimes Diluc was forced to leave the manor late because a source told him of abyssal mages, Fatui, or bandits lurking around his lands. For your safety, Diluc would put on his Darknight hero outfit and go hunting. Even though you were asleep most of the time, Diluc would always offer you and the baby a kiss and an "I love you both" before he left. He would do so as quickly as possible, reluctant to leave you alone in the manor with only a few maids unable to defend you in case of attack. Fortunately, and Diluc knew this, the source of his information, specifically Kaeya, was keeping a close eye on the Dawn Winery.

Diluc would be a very gentle and loving father. His heart warmed every time he held his baby close. It was a little being that seemed so fragile in his arms. The first time he held him, tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at him in silence, becoming more emotional as his baby's tiny hand wrapped around his finger. He vowed inwardly to do everything he could to protect his family.

Bonus NSFW:

Diluc was amazed at how much you'd been craving sex since you were pregnant. Even though your sex life had always been full, with Diluc satisfying your needs to perfection, you now sometimes went to him more than once during the day to ask for his help, pulling his tie to lure him into your bedroom. His cheeks were flushed with excitement as he obediently allowed himself to be dragged along by you. Once in the privacy of your room, Diluc locked the door, pinning you against it. His lips, eager for you, crushed against your mouth with desperate force, while his hands grabbed your knees to lift you up. Wrapping your legs around his hips, Diluc took advantage of having his hands free to grab your ass, allowing him to press his growing erection against your folds. Moaning against his lips, you savored the languid movements of his hips against you…

Diluc thought back to the first time you'd made love since you were pregnant. He had been so afraid of hurting you that he had just made you cum on his fingers and tongue, completely ignoring his needs. The second time, you reassured him that the baby was safe, that he could enter you without any problems. You didn't have to say it twice. Now there he was, holding you against the door, struggling to get your clothes off. Archon, he felt so insatiable! Already this morning he had woken you up with his mouth and fingers, waiting patiently for your eyes to open and asking for more…

At first, Diluc went slowly with you, treating you like glass that would shatter at the touch of his fingers. His back and forth was sensual as his fingers happily caressed your belly. He can't help but kiss you, his tongue wrapping around yours. His hands roamed your body with passion, enjoying the softness of your skin against his palms.

Now that your clothes were on the ground, he didn't bother to remove his own, simply unzipping the front of his pants and then pulling down his underwear to free his member. Lord, you were already ready for him, he didn't even have to prepare you with his fingers. Was it the pregnancy that made you like this? He'd never admit it, but he loved feeling you so in love with him as he was with you. With one of his arms still holding you firmly in place, Diluc used his free hand to position his sex at your entrance, penetrating the tip first before slowly working his way in. His gentle back and forth movements made you see the stars and as soon as he hit bottom, his movements stopped, probably waiting for his breathing to calm down. The pleasure was so great that his body trembled against you. His soft grunts against your ear drove you wild with excitement as you felt Diluc press you closer to him, melting you into his embrace. He left no space between the two of you, allowing himself to feel your little round belly against his abs. His shirt prevented him from fully feeling your body against his, and he cursed himself inwardly for his impatience. Slowly, his hips began to roll against you, making you moan his name against his ear. Diluc kept his jaw firmly clenched, occasionally hissing with pleasure as he felt your walls tighten around him. It felt so good that he had to hold back hard to keep from cumming immediately. He hadn't even begun to come properly… As he languidly rolled his hips against you, his face hidden in your hair, he heard your pleas against his ear. Faster. Harder. This is what you wanted. Well, then he would grant your wishes. Grabbing your buttocks more firmly, Diluc began to penetrate you hard and fast, making you scream his name. Archon, he could feel your nails scratching at his back, and despite the pain, it excited him more. The door creaked with his pounding and he was sure all his employees were aware of your lovemaking. But he would have time to worry about that later, continuing to pound you, being careful not to hit your belly. He rarely got to a point where he couldn't control his own sounds, but it was when he felt completely lost in you that his moans got louder, more ferocious with each swing of his hips. His sex ached as he quickened the pace of his thrusts, feeling your orgasm approaching. He let a loud grunt escape him as your walls tightened around him.

He savored the feel of your hands on his shoulder blades, on his neck and in his hair, feeling the love and passion of your actions. He came inside you, again and again, going straight back to the assault when he was done. Since you were pregnant, the urges he once managed to control were now overpowering his reason. He wanted you and your lustful looks didn't encourage him to calm down. He was going to satisfy you in the best way possible, as many times as necessary and for as long as you would let him.

[yoru-no-seiiki]

VILLAIN! READER WITH A YAN! MASOCHISTIC! PROTAGONIST

tw/cw: DDNE, mentions of abuse, actual abuse (by reader), implied parental neglect. protagonist’s gender is whatever you want it to be. gn pronouns.

[ second part ]

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU.

You wholeheartedly believed that you’d rule the world one day. The oracles deemed it so, and the rest followed. The only problem being is that you’d rule with an iron fist, causing the death of millions under your tyrannical reign. Many opposed your position as heir to the throne.

In comes the protagonist, your adopted sibling who is also destined for great things. The difference being is that they’ll gain it through defeating you.

Everyday is a murderfest with you trying to kill the kid but because of plot armor they’re resistant to any and all sorts of spells, weapons and even people you’ve hired.

Yan! Protagonist who had been abused their entire life saw this as just an act of love. Even moreso since you were so determined to hurt them everyday. It must mean you adored them does it not? They don’t understand why they’re not able to die or properly get hurt by you though, so at times they’ll even try to get in your way to make it easier.

But this just ends up with you hating them further and further.

As the two of you grow up, tactics start to become even more underhanded and deadly. You had lost all sense of empathy and kindness at this point. You had also halted trying to hide your attempts as your sibling clearly knew of it anyways.

But with your duties increasing as well, you are unable to execute much of your assassination attempts much less see your sibling directly. It came to the point of dull poisoning plots of which Yan! Protagonist had literally gained an immunity to with how frequent it was.

Yan! Protagonist never wanted to become ruler. A kingdom was far too much to manage and think about. All they wanted was to relax and be with you.

But with you being all busy and ignoring them. . . they simply can not stand idle and let this be!

And so they throw themselves into their studies. Those that doubted the Protagonist are now in awe of the way they picked up things in addition to their overflowing determination. They must really want to take you down.

Unbeknownst to them, they were simply doing this so you’d go back to giving them your attention.

Years after you’d officially taken the throne, they barged into castle. Thousands of troops behind them as they declared,

—

“Exalted sibling, I’ve come to take the burden of the throne from your hands!” The protagonist stood before you in all their glory. Magnificent as the scriptures had foretold. Absolutely befitting for the next in line for the throne. Blessed with a face sculpted by the gods.

You wanted nothing more rip it from their skull and watch the blood rain down on their regal clothing.

“You’ll have to take it from my cold, dead body.”

The protagonist froze in their tracks. Your words and pure confusion taking a while to settle in.

Wait, what?

. . . to be continued

Anyways that’s just a smol part from one of my webtoon ideas i’ve been writing haha. It probably won’t be expanded on until I officially published that one and it’s like further down the list of webtoon order so oop-

©️ yoru.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[yutaholic]

the show must go on (M)

PAIRING: Haechan (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Your best friend, your ride or die, Haechan has never once left your side, but all good things must come to an end.

WARNINGS: strong language; brief mentions of alcohol and drug abuse; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 7.9k words; this is part three of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Seattle, 1991

We met in detention. Eighth grade. Not to be cliché, but I knew Lee Haechan was trouble when he walked in.

Takes one to know one.

What I didn’t know was the role he would come to play in my life. I doubt many people meet their soulmate in middle school. I was pretty lucky in that.

The two of us practically lived in detention that entire year. Ninth grade was a little better; we just hung out behind the school instead of inside it. A silly pair of dumb kids wearing matching leather jackets and passing a cigarette back and forth, coughing up smoke and thinking it made us cool.

We thought we had it all figured out. But only Haechan turned out to be right.

He was the one that started the band. Haechan threw us all together and made music out of our chaos and trauma. He was the glue and without him, we would fall apart.

You clambered quietly into the passenger seat and whispered, “They’re asleep.”

Haechan was behind the wheel, but the van was parked on a grassy knoll just off the main highway. “Finally, some fucking peace and quiet,” he mumbled, sitting in a cloud of smoke that poured from his lips. The thick scent of marijuana filled the van from stem to stern.

You followed your best friend’s gaze. His eyes were firmly planted out the window at the black curtain of nightfall painted with billions of little lights. “The sky looks so pretty,” you said in awe.

“I know. It’s crazy seeing stars this bright.”

There was a tiny lull of silence. You were thinking. It wasn’t often you got to be alone with Haechan lately and it was making you crazy - not getting to confide in your best friend.

“I let Mark raw me,” you blurted out.

Haechan snorted. “I heard, but clearly your birth control did its job.”

“I snorted cocaine with Jeno… and fucked him in a dressing room.”

Your best friend looked at you, arching a brow. “So?” Doing crazy shit with Jeno wasn’t new, to be fair.

“What the hell am I doing?”

“What you do best - loving everyone except yourself.”

You frowned. Nail hitting the head every time, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t do that,” you said in a small voice.

Haechan smirked and put the joint to his lips, taking another long drag. “You know me better than to think I’m going to be your conscience and scold you,” he said a moment later. “It makes sense you’re trying to get in as many rounds of fun before the summer ends.”

The summer was winding down. August was half over.

I didn’t want it to end. I couldn’t. Because I knew in my heart when we went home, we would go our separate ways. Forever.

There would be nothing holding us together anymore.

“Haechan?”

“Yes, my love?”

You fought back tears as you asked, “What are we going to do when it’s all over?”

Haechan slapped on a playful grin for your sake and said, “We’re going to get scouted at a concert and get a huge record deal and I’ll eat you out over a bed of hundred dollar bills.”

You snorted. “God, that would be a dream.” You quickly sobered. “What’s the reality?”

Your best friend’s grin melted away and his voice turned to frost. “Go home. Find a minimum wage job. And try not to turn into raging alcoholics like our parents.”

“I thought so,” you sighed, hanging your head.

Haechan reached over and rubbed your arm. “Save the major depressive episode for back home. Let’s just enjoy these last few days.”

“I don’t want to give up,” you said, meeting his eyes again. The fire inside you lit itself with resolve. No matter how small it was. “I want something more for us in life.”

“I know you do, baby,” Haechan crooned, touching your cheek affectionately. “But some things are just out of our control.”

You blinked with the urge to cry. You couldn’t fight it anymore. Regardless of his gentle tone, Haechan’s words sounded final. You slipped out of the seat and to the floor to lay your head on Haechan’s thigh, closing your eyes as he stroked your hair.

After a moment, Haechan whispered, “I’ll never forget you for as long as I live. No matter what happens. I hope you know that.”

The tears slipped down your face as you smiled and said, “I love you too.”

Haechan’s lips twitched. He wanted so badly to not let it bother him, but he couldn’t. He knew damn well when the summer ended and the band came up empty, there would be a permanent wedge of broken hearts and crushed dreams between you.

So, so lonely. That was Haechan’s biggest fear. Losing his best friends would destroy him beyond repair. He would go through life jaded and bitter, like his parents.

Maybe it really was unavoidable. Fighting fate sounded great in songs, but reality wasn’t kind. He knew that better than anyone.

The next morning, you woke in the bed with Jeno’s arm tucked around your waist, his body molded to yours keeping you warm. There was no telling which boy scooped you off the floor and put you in bed, but your money was on Mark. He was having a hard time looking at you and Haechan was mysteriously quiet.

But you knew why.

Tension had settled over the van, the worst of the worst. After the show in Seattle, there were no more gigs to be played. Now, the long drive home would begin, shadowed by defeat and failure.

You resorted to doing what you always did; trying to alleviate the pressure and raise everyone’s spirits. Once the boys were up and actually keeping their eyes open, you had Jeno drive to the nearby state park.

As he did, you drifted between them. They were like strangers, devoid of energy and hope. Mark hadn’t touched his guitar since the final gig. The gentle strumming of his acoustic and the beauty of his softly whispered singing didn’t fill the van anymore, to your dismay.

Haechan curled up in the bed and didn’t say a word. Jeno drove silently, smoking one cigarette after another and blowing the smoke out the window. You started with him, running your hand over his shoulder as he held the wheel. Jeno glanced at you briefly, offering a weak smile that even he couldn’t keep. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple.

You went to Mark next and curled up next to him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and holding him tightly. Mark was a little surprised, seeing as how the two of you had been working hard to keep your hands off each other, but was over the moon to have you in his arms again. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hands up and down your back.

“Won’t you play a little something?” you asked gently.

Mark shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, closing your eyes to fight the tears.

Finally, you went to Haechan and sat on the mattress next to him. He just looked at you, his stare vacant and blank. You brushed his long hair from his face and leaned in to trace a few kisses from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, just to see if you could spark a reaction.

Haechan pushed you ever so slightly and said, “That’s not going to work this time.”

You frowned. And gave up. The three were inconsolable and it broke your heart.

Sidling over to the cabinet, you found your notebook and began flipping pages, going to where you’d left off. Your brows stitched when you didn’t find it and that was when you noticed the torn remains of paper in the metal spiral.

“Okay. Which one of you ripped the page out?”

Mark met your eyes and said, “Don’t look at me.”

You called, “Jeno?”

“You know I wouldn’t touch your shit,” he replied calmly.

Leaving you to turn to Haechan, his eyes closed. “Haechan?”

“I don’t give a fuck about your memoir,” he said, hissing your name.

That made you flinch. You understood his anger, but not the vitriol toward your story. Your eyes fell to the notebook and the missing page, and your hands began to shake.

You threw the notebook at the cabinet and it landed in a pitiful heap. Tensing with frustration, you bent your legs, wrapped your arms around your knees, and hid your face, crying as quietly as you could.

Mark moved slowly, grazing against you to pick up the notebook and tuck it back into its place neatly, but he didn’t have the courage to comfort you. Too scared he would make it worse.

It was Haechan that slipped to the floor and enveloped you in his arms, cradling your head to his chest and dabbing at your cheeks with his sleeve.

When Jeno pulled into the park, you breathed in relief. The van was too stifling, suffocating you in all its misery. You hopped out of the van without a word and started marching for the scenic overlook advertised on a giant sign like you couldn’t get away fast enough.

One-by-one, your bandmates whined and huffed, but inevitably followed. They could wallow in their own disappointment, but they couldn’t stand seeing it hit you.

That’s how the four of you came to sit at a lone picnic table, silently staring at the Pacific Ocean, watching the waves ebb and flow in all its unwavering glory.

The tears had dried on your face. Breathing in the sweet, salty air grounded you again, clearing your lungs and your head.

You were the one to finally break the silence. “I need to come clean about something.”

“Go ahead,” Jeno replied, yawning as he still struggled to shake off sleep.

Wringing your hands in your lap, you began, “I’ve been mailing pieces of the memoir to Cassie.”

“That explains the trips to the post office,” Mark said offhandedly. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be glib or not.

“And?” Jeno pressed.

You took a breath. “She submitted it to a publisher for their… consideration, I guess it’s called.”

Well, that woke everyone up.

“Are you serious?” Haechan asked, his eyes wide.

“Yeah?” You were befuddled by the reaction, glancing around at them. All three of your boys were sporting similar looks of shock. “You knew I was writing a memoir.”

“We knew you were scribbling in a notebook to toss in a bin and find it again twenty years later and laugh at all the dumb shit we did…” Haechan’s tone of disdain was not lost on you.

Jeno’s gawking increased. “Babe, are you insane?”

You felt small on that picnic table between them, utterly confused, and snapped, “No. I’m trying to get us out of this hell!”

Grimacing, Mark asked pointedly, “You wrote about all the very illegal shit you’ve been doing?”

Oh. That’s why they were freaked out. Underage drinking. Marijuana. Cocaine. All very punishable offenses. You shrugged and plastered on your cutest, most innocent smile. “A little?”

“Fuck,” Jeno swore, sliding off the bench to his feet and running a hand through his hair.

Haechan shook his head and chuckled. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

You rubbed your arms awkwardly.

I was so determined to make it work. It was tunnel vision, so intense I could see nothing else.

“What did the publisher say?” Mark asked, touching your shoulder in comfort. The awkwardness was killing him too.

“I don’t know,” you said, leaning into him a little, desperate for warmth. “I call Cassie at every stop to check on the dogs and she promised to update me on any replies from the publisher.”

Jeno looked to Haechan. “Can they report us to the cops?”

Haechan waved him away, looking more amused the longer he thought about it. “No. She can just say it’s all fiction. Very embellished fiction.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Good thinking.”

You almost laughed. Haechan could lie his way out of almost anything. In this case, it would be in your favor. You glanced around at your boys again. “So…, is everyone mad at me or are we good?”

“We’re good,” Haechan said, patting your head. “For now.”

“Fuck.” Mark sounded exhausted. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know if I could handle losing our music career, but being notorious in a fucking book.”

It was your turn to comfort him, running your hand across his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers.

Jeno kicked at a pinecone, watching it skitter across the rocks. “We’d be the fucking losers just known for banging bitches at every stop,” he sneered. Then, the drummer had a thought and raised his brows. “Actually, whatever gets us paid, I don’t really care.”

“Yeah, how does that work?” Mark asked curiously. “You technically wrote the book, but it’s about all of us.”

You made a face. “It’s our story. Of course I’d split everything fairly with you guys.”

Haechan smiled at you ever so faintly.

“I can’t believe our story’s almost over,” Jeno mumbled bitterly.

You perked up. This was as good a time as any. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?”

You got up and spun on your heels, so you could face them all at once. “I was thinking…,” you said, shifting your weight. “We could get a place together and we’d work odd jobs to pay the bills, but we would play gigs here and there. Whatever we could get.”

Jeno simpered. You weren’t clinging to the band. You just didn’t want to let go of them.

“We’d be scraping by a living forever,” Mark pointed out.

“But we’d be doing what we love,” you argued.

“Try loving something that never loves you back,” Haechan said harshly. “You become bitter and miserable. Just like my parents. And yours.”

You scanned their faces. Each had the tiniest bit of hope in their eyes, but their expressions were firmly rooted in defeat. “You guys just want to go home after everything we did this summer and…,” you trailed, a tremble creeping into your voice. “Pretend like it never happened?”

Jeno softened. “Of course it happened. We’ll always look back and remember this as the best days of our lives.” He talked to you like he was soothing a fussy baby. “But best days don’t last. That’s why you look back on them.”

Your eyes burned. More tears would come any moment now and you weren’t ashamed of them. “I just don’t understand why you’re all giving up. Why am I the only one trying to keep us together?”

“Because you’re the dreamer,” Mark sighed.

Haechan snapped, “Stop being so gentle with her,” and Jeno was quick to warn, “Don’t be a dick.”

Your best friend jumped down from the picnic table and approached you. You knew by his tone and his gait that he was about to dress you down and you readied yourself for the blow.

“This is how it’s going to go,” Haechan started, pointing at the guitarist. “Mark’s parents will blow their entire retirement savings to send him to a good college to recover their reputation. And they will never let him date someone like you.”

You flinched.

“Fuck you,” Mark hissed, every muscle in his body tensing for a fight.

Haechan continued, “Jeno won’t be able to hold down a job. He’ll be a regular customer in rehab, then jail.”

Jeno held up his middle finger. “Go to hell.”

Haechan set his eyes on you and a chill ran down your spine. “And you,” Haechan said through clenched jaws. “You’ll meet some guy you can barely stand, but he’ll keep a nice roof over your head. He’ll put a couple babies in you after some miserable missionary and your entire personality will center around the screaming kids you never wanted. Just like your mom.”

Your blood turned to ice in your veins. Planting both hands on Haechan’s chest, you shoved him back and screamed, “You son of a bitch, I hate you!”

Jeno was suddenly caught in a very precarious position. As you stomped off, his first instinct was to go after you, but in the next second, Mark was off the table and charging toward Haechan. So, Jeno had to decide whose life was in the most imminent danger.

And he correctly chose Haechan.

Mark grabbed Haechan by the collar with both hands and crowded into his face. “I’m gonna fuck you up,” he roared, but Haechan didn’t fight back.

He was numb. His face was blank, his eyes cold.

Jeno did his best to wedge himself between them, but he was too defeated. All the thunder was gone from him. “Why did you do that to her?” he asked sadly.

“She has to let go of us,” Haechan replied, looking from Jeno to Mark. “Make her hate you. It’s the only way.”

Mark shook his head in dissent, clenching his fists even tighter in Haechan’s shirt.

You put plenty of distance between yourself and the boys, and the moment you found a solitary bench between trees, you collapsed onto it, buried your face in your hands, and wept.

We have no secrets, Haechan and I. He knows the darkest depths of my soul, and I know his.

I never thought he’d use that as a weapon, but I should have known.

He was the only one that dreamed bigger and harder than me. With it all ending, his heart was dying and pain makes us do horrible things. Especially to the ones we love most.

Because he knew I would still love him anyway. No matter how much he broke me.

Time lost all meaning as you cried on that bench. It wasn’t just Haechan’s words that crushed you, it was the cruel reality of life. You didn’t want to live without your boys. The four of you were too interwoven and connected. Being parted from them would be like tearing at the fabric of who you were.

You were expected to walk around with a gaping hole in your chest forever?

Sure. Most people did. It would account for all the hate and anger in the world.

“My love?”

You lifted your head at the sound of his voice, roughly wiped your wet cheeks, and growled, “Go away, Haechan. I swear to god, I will slap the shit out of you.”

Haechan dragged his feet over to you and said, “Go ahead. I deserve it.”

You refused to look at him as he sat beside you. Your eyes focused on the ocean.

We had the same biggest fear. Becoming our parents. As time went on, the more it seemed inevitable. A cycle that couldn’t be broken. We were fools to think we could be different.

That’s what I was hanging onto. I had to avoid that fate at all costs. Part of me thought that as long as I had my boys, they could save me from it.

“How could you say my worst nightmare so casually like that?” You were still shaking.

Haechan hung his head. “I was trying to hurt you.”

You scoffed, deadpanning, “At least you’re honest.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, like all the air was sapped from his lungs. When you didn’t respond, Haechan said, “Look at me. Please.”

“No.”

Your best friend sighed loudly and slouched into the bench, resting his head on the back. The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, watching the world pass you by.

“You’ll prove me wrong,” Haechan said tenderly. “You will be the one that breaks the cycle. The rest of us will just watch.”

Still, you said nothing. You hated him.

Because Haechan always ended up being right. It was a gift and a curse.

Mark and Jeno came looking. The latter was the only one brave enough to approach you, holding out his hand without a word. You peered up at him and let your hand slip into his, and Jeno led you away.

Haechan blinked and the tears escaped. He held them back until you left, refusing to cry in front of you. Keeping his hands in his lap, Haechan didn’t bother to dry his cheeks.

Mark blew out a pained breath. “What do we do?”

“You know what you have to do,” Haechan said, cutting his eyes at Mark. “If you don’t stand up to your parents, they’ll make you give her up.”

“I won’t,” Mark started.

“They will wear you down. You know they will. She’s not who they have in mind for their perfect boy. They hate her.”

Mark nodded.

“If you grow a spine, the two of you can at least live happily ever after,” Haechan joked, but there was a bitter edge to his voice.

“What about you and Jeno?”

Haechan stood. “It is what it is.”

The cloud in the van darkened. Jeno and Mark were miserable, and predictably stoic about it. Neither knew what to do with you. As it turned out, you were the rock, not Jeno.

Curled up in the bed with your back to them, you closed your eyes, but had no intention of sleeping. You would just lay there and wait for something to break or change. You’d done the heavy lifting so far. Now it was their turn.

Haechan couldn’t take the silence anymore. He trudged out of the van and slammed the door behind him.

You didn’t bat an eye. At this point, you didn’t have the energy to ask or care.

That wasn’t true. I always cared. Nothing could ever make me stop caring. We are all cursed and that was mine.

When the doors wheeled open, Haechan was sweaty and disheveled. You wondered how much time had passed as he sat on the mattress beside you. “Come with me,” your best friend said, holding out his hand.

You smarted, “Or what?”

“Or I’ll drag you.”

You looked over your shoulder and gave him an obstinate glare, but your curiosity was piqued. The hell had he been doing that got him so shiny with sweat? It didn’t take him that long to jerk off.

A defeated sigh left your lips. He was still your best friend, even if you hated his guts at the moment.

After batting his hand away, you got up and followed Haechan outside, rolling your eyes at the looks Mark and Jeno were sporting.

Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as Haechan led you into the trees, not too far from the van. When you saw what he was bringing you to, you couldn’t help but smile a little.

A camping tent was set up; the one Haechan had insisted on strapping on top of the van in case he found a nice spot. And it seemed he found one.

This was a habit of ours. When the yelling at my house got to be too much, when I couldn’t block it with my locked door or the blankets over my head, I would sneak out the window.

My parents didn’t notice. Hard to notice if you don’t care. Haechan would always be waiting to run off with me to the park. There were safe, secluded areas to set the tent up without fear of being interrupted.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten laid in that pathetic little tent. I’d probably mourn the damn thing when it finally fell apart.

Just as I mourned my relationships.

“How about a night not sleeping in the van?” Haechan asked, unzipping the front flap and holding it open for you.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you barked, narrowing your eyes at him and crawling inside.

Haechan bit his tongue. Any witty remarks would not be appreciated at the moment.

But given Haechan was allergic to quiet, he wasn’t going to keep enabling your cold shoulder for much longer. Watching you lay on your back and make yourself comfortable over the sleeping bags, Haechan sidled up next to you as close as humanly possible.

“I’m still mad,” you huffed.

“I know.”

Well, with that out of the way, you relaxed. He knew you were upset. Now the groveling could begin.

Haechan rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand, staring at you and how intensely you were ignoring him. He reached over and stroked your cheek tenderly, and said, “I love you. It’s gonna hurt so much when you leave me.”

You closed your eyes, your heart clenching in your chest. “Then why are you trying to make me leave?”

“To give myself some control over the pain. Maybe.”

You turned your head and looked at him. His hair had grown longer over the summer, its natural jet black. It was cute; falling into his eyes, hiding them behind fluffy strands. You brushed some back with your fingertips so he couldn’t hide. Then you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

Haechan smiled softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. “You’re my best friend. I’ll be next to you in a nursing home.”

“Will you still kiss me if I have no teeth?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Heck yes. That would be hilarious.”

Both of you laughed at the sudden mental image of you and Haechan as two little old people sucking each other’s faces.

The rest of the world melted away. Your summer wasn’t coming to an end. It was just another night spent from home inside Haechan’s tent. If you didn’t think too hard, you could convince yourself nothing had changed.

Nothing was over.

You talked for ages, about everything. Like always. The light beyond the tent died and everything went dark, prompting Haechan to light a familiar lantern beside the sleeping bags. Soon, the ambience shifted from birds chirping to crickets singing.

When the atmosphere changed, so did the gravity inside the tent.

He was good at talking you away from the edge. Haechan made you laugh hard enough you forgot your anger and sadness, and he started stealing kisses between words. His hand occasionally traced patterns on the bit of your exposed stomach until it slipped under your shirt and got comfortable palming your breast. That’s when you began initiating kisses and running your fingers through his hair.

Kissing overtook conversation. You were immune to all the pain when his lips were on yours and you wanted more, wanted to overdose on the feeling until your heart was made of stone.

Haechan was my family. He was the only home I’d ever known, the only person who loved me unconditionally like my parents were supposed to. Soul mates aren’t always romantic. Maybe they’re just the person that loves you despite everything.

There was a little hitch in his breath as Haechan deepened the kiss, his arms heavy around you. He needed it too, needed to feel loved again before it was all over.

Your lashes fluttered as Haechan settled on top of you, abandoning your lips to suck and nibble at your neck. Your hands were on his shoulders, having been pulling him to you impatiently. His leg wedged between your thighs, pressing against your sex.

Haechan tugged at your clothes, undressing you while he bruised the base of your neck with his lips and teeth. When you yanked off his clothes and finally felt his naked body against yours, you moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers in his long hair.

It was so familiar and comforting. With Haechan, everything was okay. Nothing could hurt me here.

He seemed in no rush to touch you where you really wanted him to. Typical. Haechan always dragged things out and made it last. He knew you had all the time in the world and was in no hurry to plow through it. Pun intended.

Haechan sucked your nipple into his mouth and pinched the other with his fingers. You bit your lip and squirmed under him, feeling his hard cock against your thigh. You hooked your legs on his hips and flexed, bringing him flush against you for good measure.

You flipped your positions and Haechan let you, holding your waist as you rolled onto him, straddling his lap. He kissed you even deeper, running his hands up and down your back while you cradled his face and tried to snatch all the air from his lungs.

Haechan broke from the kiss to ask playfully, “Have you been writing about sex in the book?”

You were breathing heavily, flushed and dazed from his kisses. “Yeah,” you rasped, running your hand through your hair to get it out of your face.

Haechan tugged you back down and trailed kisses over your jaw before whispering in your ear, “I need to give you some new material.”

“As if you haven’t given me plenty already.”

“I have competition,” he retorted, brushing his hands to your breasts. “Jeno is a slut with a dragon dick. You have a fat crush on Mark and he railed the shit out of you.”

You snickered. “Who are you then?”

Haechan steered you up and shuffled down until his arms were around your thighs and his mouth was inches from your sex, and purred, “I’ll always be the one that gave you your first nut.”

Though you were about to laugh at that, the next sound out of your mouth was a whimper as Haechan tongued at your folds. You were mindful not to put too much of your weight on him, but his hands on your hips said otherwise, bringing you down to meet his lips.

The sight of his face buried in your pussy, between your thighs, was so arousing you felt your walls clench on nothing.

“Fuck.” You let your head fall back and closed your eyes. Reaching for his hands on your hips, you held on tight and joked breathlessly, “The book will give us more groupies than the band ever did.”

Haechan stopped sucking on your clit long enough to retort, “God, I hope so.”

An involuntary shudder shot through you when he latched back onto your bundle of nerves. You squeezed his hands even tighter, eyes winching closed. Another moan tumbled off your tongue. Haechan didn’t play when he was sucking you dry.

It was probably one of the few things in life he took seriously.

“Mm,” you hummed, trembling when his tongue swirled around your entrance before returning to your clit. “So good, baby.”

Haechan made a noise against your cunt. “You know, you only call me baby when I’m getting you off.”

“Do I?”

“I like it.”

“I like when you touch me,” you said in barely a whisper, biting your lip lest you go into juicy detail.

Haechan would have loved that.

You were so far gone already. Your hands found his hair, your hips bucking against his face. Little nothings mingled with your moans. Haechan kneaded your hips, but as you got closer, he reached up to grab and squeeze your breasts instead.

It felt so good you felt guilty that you weren’t touching him. Releasing his hair, you lilted back and wrapped your hand around his hard cock, feeling it twitch the moment your fingers made contact.

Haechan broke away from your pussy and scolded, “Don’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

“Only think about yourself right now. Be selfish. You’ve earned it.”

You swallowed and let Haechan guide your hands back into his hair, and he bit the inside of your thigh as a warning to do as he said. Your body tensed when he lapped at your clit again and you decided to obey. You would be selfish.

Haechan smirked when you arched away from him, propping yourself over him on your arms and riding his face. He reeled a hand back and slapped your ass, the best way he knew how to convey to you that you were giving him exactly what he wanted.

He lapped at the arousal between your folds, his tongue teasing your bundle of nerves again. Haechan knew that was your weak spot, where you were most sensitive. If he played his cards right, he could have you screaming for mercy from the overstimulation.

“Right there,” you panted, voice pitching higher. "I'm close."

For once in his life, Haechan said nothing. He ate you out like a man starved, suddenly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. He sucked on you until your legs shook and you whimpered his name.

And when orgasm hit, you went higher than where the cocaine took you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your body shuddered, and you chanted, “Fuck,” like a mantra.

Haechan kept going until you pushed frantically at his head.

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” you begged, fisting his hair and finally earning yourself a reprieve.

Haechan chuckled, slipping his arms under your legs and tossing you to the side. You gladly rolled to your back, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, waiting to come back to your senses.

You felt his hand smoothing its way up your thigh before cupping your sex, feeling all the slick he’d gotten out of you and muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath. His fingers prodded into your pulsing pussy, hooking at your sweet spot, and you writhed, sensitive.

“Put a condom on,” you told him hurriedly, still trying to catch your breath.

As you came down from the high, Haechan crawled over to the other side of the tent and returned with a packet, tearing it open with his teeth. You watched him fit the condom on his hard cock and you spread your legs invitingly when he moved between your legs, grasping your knees and pushing them toward your chest, bending you in half.

You rested your hands on his hips and drew him toward you when he slipped his cock into your entrance and stroked in slow. “Mm, baby, you’re so good,” you mewled dramatically. “The biggest ever.”

Haechan, whose eyes had been on his cock sinking into your tight cunt, tossed his long hair out of his eyes and said, “Fuck you,” with a tiny snort.

You grinned and sank your fingers deeper into the flesh of his hips, tugging him toward you in tandem with his movements. He loved when you left scratches and bruises in his skin. A reminder of you he got to carry around with him for days after.

“Kiss me,” Haechan whispered, rocking into you harder.

Without missing a beat, you lifted your head to meet his lips, but his hands wrapped around your wrists and pinned them to the ground. A noise of frustration left you, because you couldn’t close the rest of the distance with him holding you down.

Nipping at your lips, he taunted, “What’s the matter?”

Rather than answer, you moaned as his cock bottomed out in you again. Your face tensed with pleasure, every thrust making your toes curl. You were still raw from orgasm and his cock hitting you right made a shudder race through you.

Haechan went still. When you peered up at him in confusion, he smirked and said, “Fuck me.”

You hooked your thighs higher up his hips and started grinding into him. Haechan looked down to watch you bouncing on his dick, sucking in a breath when your pace grew more hurried and desperate.

“Please move,” you whined, eyes closed. Sweat formed at your back with the effort, your body burning.

“You’re doing fine without me.”

“I’m never okay without you,” you said breathlessly, out of your mind with lust and emotions. The two were colliding.

Haechan draped over you, slipping his fingers into your hair, and fucked into you at a ruthless pace for that, making you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.

The last thing you wanted was his name echoing through the woods. You would never live it down.

“Oh god. Oh fuck.” You clawed at his back, trying to find purchase.

Haechan gathered you in his arms and you sat up face-to-face, straddling his lap. Haechan kissed at your neck, crushing you in his arms. You rode him, his hips matching your rhythm.

“Come for me,” Haechan purred in your ear, saying your name silkily. “Again.”

It wasn’t fair that he could snap his fingers and your body would answer. You were so close and had been together for so long, your skin knew his touch. Your heart gave in to his every desire and whim.

Ecstasy spilled over and a moan caught in your throat.

Haechan held you even tighter as you came, biting his lip as he felt you clamp down on his cock, holding his breath to stave off his own orgasm until you sighed his name and slumped against him.

You buried your face in his shoulder and whimpered as his thrusts turned ragged, his groans pitching higher until he released into the condom. You rubbed his back and kissed his neck while he came down, lowering you to the floor gently and landing at your side.

The two of you breathed heavily. Sex broke something in you both that you needed. It felt final.

Like it was the last time.

Haechan discarded the condom and crawled back to you, getting a blanket out from one of the sleeping bags to drape over your bodies. You nestled closer to him, ready to doze off in his arms. Haechan settled a hand on your thigh, the other behind his head. Your eyes fluttered closed as his chest rose and fell with his breaths.

“I’ll never stop fighting,” you whispered with resolve. “And you shouldn’t either.”

He said nothing, but pressed a kiss to your temple.

The next day, the van was on its way home. You sat in the passenger seat as Jeno drove, just as you had when summer - and the trip - started.

When Jeno parked at a rest area, you ventured inside to look for a payphone.

Haechan leaned back against the van, arms folded.

Mark wandered over to him, asking in a soft voice, “How is she?”

“Ask her yourself,” Haechan retorted.

Mark frowned. “You know her better than anyone.”

Haechan’s eyes darkened as he said, “You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Jeno, who had been hovering close by, smirked at the exchange and murmured, “Says the one person actually capable of hurting her.”

Haechan shot him a glare. “She loves Mark more than she ever loved us,” he started.

Jeno was quick to cut him off, “You know damn well that’s not true.”

“Maybe she’s right about us,” Mark spoke up, glancing between them. “Maybe we should stay together and try to make it work.”

Haechan let his head fall back and groaned. “Pussy power strikes again.”

“Are you done?” Mark snapped. “You are the biggest hypocrite, you know. You’re hoping and praying she’s right. That she makes something happen. You’re trying so hard to look like you don’t care, but you don’t want to lose us.”

Tears filled Haechan’s eyes. His lips pursed.

Jeno cocked his head. “We know that, Mark,” he crooned cutely. “Our Donghyuck cares the most. That’s why he tries so hard to hide it.”

Haechan quickly wiped his cheeks. The tears had escaped too fast. After a pause, getting himself together, Haechan said, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean it.”

“We know that too.” Jeno reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

The two looked at Mark expectantly. His anger faded and he huffed a sigh.

Your voice broke the moment. “Guys!”

“What?” Jeno barked, turning to see you racing across the parking lot toward them.

You could hardly breathe, panting like you’d run a marathon. “They want to publish the book!”

All three of them gaped in perfect sync.

“Are you fucking serious?” Haechan wheezed.

“Yeah,” you said in disbelief, chuckling to yourself. “They want me to keep sending in chapters and they’ll assign me an editor to help organize everything. And then I’ll have to fill in the gaps, but… it’s gonna be a book. An actual book!”

In the next second, you were the meat in a boy sandwich and you couldn't have been happier about it.

Once everything calmed down, Mark shook his head and exclaimed, “This is insane!”

Haechan took your face in his hands and planted a big kiss on your lips with a loud, “Mwah!” Which made Jeno whine, “I was gonna kiss her and I can’t now!”

“I’ll kiss you too,” Haechan taunted, wagging his tongue and reaching for Jeno, making the drummer turn on his heels and run for his life.

You giggled as Haechan chased after him and Mark took the opportunity to wrap you in his arms and bury his face in your neck, enveloping you in a hug. You held him tightly and closed your eyes, breathing him in.

“You did it,” Mark whispered, saying your name in reverence. “You made this summer count for something.”

Tears pricked your eyes.

Haechan and Jeno traipsed back over, pushing and shoving each other with big grins on their faces.

With the celebration winding down, you looked at your boys one-by-one and said, “There’s a couple of conditions.”

Jeno grumbled. Haechan arched a brow.

“I won’t write the last chapters and send them in until you get clean,” you said, pointing at Jeno.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious.” You planted your feet and stared him down. “You think I’m going to risk this book being a hit and us getting a huge payday just for you to blow it all on blow?”

Jeno sulked.

“It’s a fair condition,” Haechan said lightly.

“I know it is!”

You waited patiently.

“I’m not an addict,” Jeno insisted. “I am a casual user.”

“Then you can casually stop,” you smarted.

He made a face. After a tiny lull, Jeno handed you the bag from his back pocket and you didn’t hesitate to cram it into your own. Its next destination was the nearest toilet.

You turned to Mark. “There’s a condition for you too.”

Mark grimaced nervously. “I’m listening.”

“You have to do what you want with your own life. Not what your parents want.”

Mark visibly relaxed. His eyes went soft. Something happy and content washed over him. “But I don’t know what I want.”

You shrugged. “You have time to figure it out. Change your mind as many times as it takes until you find what makes you happy.”

“Okay,” said Mark, smiling.

Finally, you turned to Haechan. “And you.”

He tilted his head and puckered up his lips.

“You’re not your father, Haechan.”

“You sure? I was pretty quick to cut you down.”

You scoffed. “Last I checked, I’m still standing. Bitch.”

Haechan chuckled.

“She’s right,” Jeno said, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to press a kiss to your cheek. “We shouldn’t give up on the band already.”

“The book could make some people check us out,” Mark added, optimistic again.

All eyes were on Haechan. He smiled bashfully and said, “And if it doesn’t - if it all fails - at least we’ll know we tried.”

“No regrets,” you finished with a nod.

Haechan suddenly reached into his pocket and handed you a balled-up page.

The missing chapter of your memoir.

You gaped when you realized what it was. “I should have known you took it.”

“I couldn’t handle someone talking so highly about me,” he said under his breath.

“Oh. Only you’re allowed to speak highly of yourself?”

Mark and Jeno laughed.

Haechan did too. Then he sobered and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for believing in me.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “Haechan, you started the band. Don’t you remember?”

“No?”

“We met in detention in eighth grade,” you reminded him, to which Haechan bobbed his head. “You noticed Jeno drumming his hands. You said you saw Mark playing acoustic by himself during lunch. And you heard me singing under the bleachers when I skipped gym.”

“I forgot all that,” Haechan mumbled, his eyes twinkling like they shone with stars. “Damn, I really gotta quit drinking.”

Mark moved to your free side and said, “Yeah, dude. We’re all here because of you.”

Haechan looked at his three best friends, his family, smiling at him, and it almost broke him on the spot. He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

Jeno laughed loudly. “I’ll be damned. All you’ve ever wanted is to be the center of attention and now that you’ve got it, you don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Yep,” Haechan said with a sheepish grin.

You closed the distance and hugged him, patting the back of his head. “It ain’t over till it’s over,” you whispered for his ears alone and Haechan let go the breath he’d been holding, releasing all the tension and pain in his chest.

Once you parted, Mark reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. You melted into his familiar arms and flushed when he said, “You are, by far, the greatest person I have ever met.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay.”

“Wait.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and lifted to your toes. “Maybe a little more.”

Mark smiled as his lips met yours in a chaste kiss that he poured his all into.

A kiss that was dramatically interrupted by Jeno, knocking into Mark enough to jostle you both. “It’s not your job to save us, you know,” he chided sweetly.

Yes, it was and it always would be. Because they saved me first.

“Hey, I’m just an instrument of the power of rock and roll,” you said, putting a hand on Jeno’s chest and giving him a playful shove.

“I take back every compliment I’ve ever said to you,” he joked, tickling your sides.

You laughed.

The four of you gabbed and teased each other for what felt like an eternity. The air was lighter. The sun a was a little brighter. Your boys were smiling again and you felt the pieces of your heart snapping back into place.

Hope is a powerful thing. A gentle promise that maybe - just maybe - we could all be happy and whole.

“We’re burning daylight,” Jeno eventually said.

You exclaimed, “Let’s hit the road,” and it was the first time you said it without dread.

Hopping into the van after you, Mark stuck his head out and called, “Don’t forget the trash.”

Jeno proceeded to scoop Haechan up in his burly arms and carried him to the van.

“Very funny,” Haechan deadpanned, but he couldn’t help but grin.

Smiling till your cheeks hurt, you got in the driver’s seat and fired up the engine, pulling out of the rest area and onto the highway, toward the new life awaiting you and your boys.

Everything would change for us. The drive home wasn’t some miserable journey we’d been fearing. It was the final chapter of our summer, but only the beginning of our story.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[sitp-recs]

Hello again! Thank you for your recommendations, I really liked several of them.

I wanted to tell you that I recently read Away Childish Things by Lettered and I loved it. This left me wondering, do you know of other drarrys who talk about the mistreatment Harry suffered under the Dursleys? I think it's very interesting to see the consequences of childhood abuse growing up and how someone (Draco in this case) can help heal that.

Hello friend! Happy to hear you’ve enjoyed the recs. Ahh yes, ACT is so uniquely cathartic - I still remember the awe I felt reading it for the first time, the emotional depth and character development are top notch. I can think of a few fics touching on Harry’s abusive childhood:

Timeshare by astolat (M, 14k)

“It’s not for long,” Hermione said. “By the time we get back to Hogwarts, the Unfettering Brew will be ready.”“Listen to you!” Ron said. “He’s got to get through a month with the Dursleys and a month at Malfoy Manor. With Draco Malfoy.”

Conquering the Dark by noeon (E, 24k)

Harry's a Healer specialising in the care of children, Draco Malfoy's an expert in neuromagic at St Mungo's. A difficult case forces them to work together and, in the process, unearths some of the trauma of the past, as well as the chance for healing in the present.

The Elusive Mate by 0idontknow0 (E, 26k)

Harry had done it (a) to save lives and (b) because the idea of him being Malfoy’s mate was clearly ridiculous, but now he had to tell Malfoy.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

A Piercing Comfort by talithan (T, 44k)

When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy's patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact—he's no longer sure he wants to.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding (E, 71k)

Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with.

The Ordeal of Being Known by @lou-isfake (M, 146k)

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions.

[i-love-your-shades-of-wrong]

you want complex characters? here's Gale.

I am fully convinced that people only hate Gale bc it's Liam Hemsworth and because they think he's annoying - and yeah, it's true, he IS annoying, but to like president snow more than him? (its pretty privilege)

Most people know by now that the love triangle in thg is for metaphorical purposes - the choice between peace and war. And it's not even a choice as a reader - there is quite literally no chemistry between gale and katniss (in my opinion). But that doesn't merit hatred for the character himself.

He grows up in the seam, poor and being the breadwinner for his siblings. (how sad) We're supposed to disagree with his motives by the end of it - he shouldn't want to get revenge because that makes him as bad as the capitol (yada yada yada). And Peeta is in the right because he wants to show mercy. (peace vs war)

But Peeta grows up as the bakers son. Has he ever gone hungry? No. Are we meant to feel bad for him because of his mum? idk. His name was in the bowl far, far less times. Does that make it any better? No, because he's picked (and this is meant to be about how the system is awful... you get it). But Peeta doesn't grow up hating the capitol because they don't hurt him... until the games.

Is this an attack on Peeta? No, of course not, but circumstances are important as the actions taken within them (situation ethics). Peeta goes into the games and you'd think his outlook on life changes, but it doesn't. Some people have stronger cores - a lifetime of security within yourself does that.

Peeta goes into the games again, Gale saves the citizens of 12 in the bombing. Peeta's kidnapped. And Gale says this:

"He might have been tortured. Or persuaded. My guess is he made some kind of deal to protect you. He'd put forth the idea of the cease- fire if Snow let him present you as a confused pregnant girl who had no idea what was going on when she was taken prisoner by the rebels. This way, if the districts lose, there's still a chance of leniency for you. If you play it right." I must still look perplexed because Gale delivers the next line very slowly. "Katniss…he's still trying to keep you alive."

So, he's annoying, but is he a liar? No. He's ever the strategist, thinking of things from the logical point of view. (really grasping for straws but I need a pro and less cons😭)

People really hated Gale for bombs - killing innocent people that just want to help the fallen? (ohno how sad). But are capitol citizens ever really innocent? Bystanders that simply allow children to be murdered year after year? The idea that they simply have no idea of the harm being caused is ludicrous. Do they not have critical thinking skills? No matter what happens in life, you KNOW murder is wrong. No matter what propaganda media shows you.

(also Beetee helped make those bombs too like gale was annoying but stop giving him full credit like if I was beetee I'd be pissed)

So, that comes to the idea that killing people as a whole is unethical, and it doesn't matter that they're awful people. Is that untrue? No. Is it far to those that have been oppressed their entire lives, being told that using force against their oppressors is wrong? Maybe. It's not an easy issue to resolve (kinda explains the metaphor, doesn't it?)

Neoliberalism probably wants you to blame the individuals. Coin, Gale, Snow. Coin and Snow were two sides of the same coin (ooh pun) - politicians, adults, playing for their own power. Is it wrong to enjoy power? No, of course not, just don't abuse it. Gale enjoyed power. But he was fighting for the freedom of the country, not himself. And he's only 19/20. You're a lot angrier when you're younger, as many adults forget.

The system is the real problem, clearly. Why should the capitol have all the power? Why are the districts being used? We don't know. But that's unimportant.

And then there's Katniss. She's the one making the decision - peace or war. On paper, its peace anyday. Katniss has seen both Peeta and Gale's hardships - Gale is a metaphor for who she could have been. Bitter, angry and hateful. It's not unjustified hatred but under Kantian ethics, murder is always wrong. Katniss does not want to retaliate because it's a vicious cycle of violence.

As far as we know, the capitol don't really pay for all they do. I know if I was a district citizen who suffered, I'd want capitol citizens to feel the same way. That is not to say that it is ethical, but it is not unjustified.

It would be more of a fair argument if Peeta and Gale suffered equally, but can you really quantify suffering. Their experiences shape them. Its easier for Peeta to want mercy for the capitol because he wasn't starved his whole life. And Peeta's stance is the right one.

But see, that's why we say complex character and not good person. Because the decisions aren't malicious in intent, just with clashing personal values to the norm. Like, bffr, half the people online hating on this guy would NOT have stood for mercy for the capitol.

(anyway have a nice day this was my ethics essay plan and I'd better get a 9 on it or else <333)

[elainarcheronslawyer]

You absolving Elain and nesta of providing for themselves and taking advantage of their little sister for years, many of which they were adults, is wild. Elain and nesta took advantage of feyre, it’s repeatedly established, and we meet them when they’re adults and this has been happening for years. Their father obviously sucks but even he was shown doing more than Elain in the cabin even though she was able bodied and an adult when we meet her.

It was absolutely their crime. If you can’t fathom why it’s horrible that feyre was beyond exhausted just risked her life and comes home with food only for elain to be like “when will you finish getting it ready” and have it established she’s never offered to help and has never provided any help and this has been ongoing for years while she’s an adult then idk what to tell you. You lack empathy.

You’re lying to yourself if you don’t get how bad their treatment was. It’s their crime because they could’ve done something to show appreciation or provide for themselves like healthy adults should but they knew feyre would do it so they let her. Nesta even justifies taking Feyre’s money with “I knew you could always get more”. Elain and nesta are guilty in different ways and the same and it’s actually revolting that you’re excusing this abuse and neglect just because you like their characters.

Honestly just read the acofas interview where sjm talks about the fact that feyre was forced to be the caregiver of her sisters and father and had never been prioritized or taken care of is literally linked to how she ended up in a domestic abusive relationship with tamlin.

Elain admits they failed her and neglected her and didn’t help while she gave for years. Nesta admits she did nothing and wanted them all to starve and hated feyre for stepping up and failed Feyre repeatedly. Feyre has deep emotional scars over it that we see repeatedly. To deny this mistreatment was theirs and an established pattern for YEARS, most of which nesta and Elain were adults and most of which feyre was still a child, is unempathetic and ignoring what the books clearly show.

oh goodness let’s tackle this a bit at a time.

firstly, no one is diminishing feyre’s hunting. what she did was something no child should have to do.

it’s almost as if there is no one way to respond to a truly horrific situation. nesta was 22 in acotar and elain was 20. now sjm’s timeline is a mess but that would make them no older than 17 and 15 when they fell in too poverty ( feyre would have been about 13). nesta and elain were barely adults. elain was only an adult for 2 or 3 of those years (again this is unclear due to a slightly messy timeline). however regardless of how long they’d been adults it’s still not their responsibility to provide for the family ( it shouldn’t have been feyre’s either). why? because that responsibility rests solely on the shoulders of their father. my second (rhetorical) question is: who do you think was doing the domestic tasks? because it wasn’t nesta, it wasn’t their useless lump of a father (he was to busy carving wood and neglecting his children) and feyre canonically doesn’t know how to (nor would she have time to after spending her days hunting for food). so it must have been elain. feyre is repeatedly shown to have very little interest in domestic tasks so it is plausible that due to her being an unreliable narrator it just hasn’t occurred to her and therefore it doesn’t occur to the reader. if feyre is starving after a day of hunting why can’t elain be equally as hungry after a day of unrecognised domestic labour? (even if this isn’t the case they are three barley adults in a truly awful situation so i think it’s both acceptable and understandable for them to be hangry). i don’t know how much experience you have with not knowing where your next meal will come from and being constantly hungry but i can tell you it fucking sucks and it brings out the absolute worst in people.

i never said it wasn’t a horrible situation only that it wasn’t nesta or elain’s (or feyre’s for that matter) responsibility.

it’s quite clear that all occupant of that cottage were suffering from some kind of trauma and it’s understandable that they react that way but once again it was only ever their father’s responsibility to find food and money not the sisters. i hadn’t read that interview before this and i did find it very informative so thank you (i think) for the recommendation? however, i do think it is besides the point because once again it was not any of the sisters responsibility it was papa archerons. feyre’s abusive relationship is obviously awful and i recognise how much she craved someone to put her first. but nesta and elain are not the ones at fault. their father is. it was only ever his responsibility to care for his children (and to be quite honest it was his fault they were in that situation in the first place)

also, (i’m actually glad you brought it up) both nesta and elain recognise and apologise for the treatment of feyre and show remorse even after feyre completely destroyed their human lives (albeit accidentally and i don’t think she is solely to blame she only wanted a friend).

finally, obviously i’m not the one lacking in empathy if you’re failing to recognise the trauma carried by all three sisters. nesta was angry and bitter at their father for his failings and neglect, we haven’t had elain’s perspective yet but i’m of the belief that her desperation to bake and cook comes from years of worrying where her next meal is coming from and how whatever feyre brings back is going to feed four people. you seem very familiar with feyre’s trauma so i won’t reiterate it. the only person to blame for the neglect of all three sisters is their father. he had a duty of care and he abused them. (negligence is a form of abuse btw) he was responsible for all of his daughters. he should have done something to help. it shouldn’t have been feyre hunting because it shouldn’t have been any of them. their father neglected them all. elain had to take on the role of his care giver (neither of the others would’ve done it and they shouldn’t have had to). so yes ‘letting’ feyre hunt wasn’t nesta or elain’s crime. it was their father’s and because he’s dead it is highly unlikely he will face the consequences of this and/or apologise to his daughter’s for neglecting them. ( a half arsed confession before he died doesn’t count and pulling his act together just in time for the grand finale in acowar won’t absolve him of his crimes either)

[missmichellets]

Please share your secret to being so fucking confident! Like, I’m being criticized on MY blog for the shit I not make or post, just what I reblog- slurs hurt-

Things are gonna get real deep now my love. I could say: haters are losers - and as a winner, I'm busy in a capacity they couldn't even fathom. So I simply do not have enough time in a day to give losers a thought. I could also say: haters are unhappy people with a tragic lives. It sounds like a cliché. But think about it, if you are a well-balanced individual, happy, safe, calm, collected, with a decently put together life and a clearly constructed short-term and long-term purpose/meaning... you won't be going around doing any hating. You simply won't. It's not even in the frame of your consciousness; you won't even be able to access the mere idea of hating on others as a possible task/behaviour to engage yourself with. Which means that a hater must live at the very opposite realm of that. And that must be awful. I genuinly feel sorry for people in this amount of distress - but simultaneously, I have zero empathy for their destructive ways of coping with it. I could also say: diet discipline. The same way your body will evolve and take shape based on what you feed it and what activities you choose to engage it in - your mind will do the same. Feed it with mush and you're gonna turn your mind into mush. I could also say: priorities. 1 minute spent on a hater is 1 less minute spent on a lover. Time is finite. It's your most valuable asset and you get to spend it however you want! With 2 big caveats; you can't take it back and you can't make more of it. With that knowledge at the immediate forefront of your mind, it becomes very obvious why you shouldn't engage with hate. Also, if you'd actually make a list of things that are more important to deal with than your haters, you'd end up with an infinitely long list. Really, clearing the filter of your washing machine is probably 80.000x more important than replying to a mean comment. The few times I actively do choose to engage with a hateful comment, it is to educate people in the "surroundings" by pointing out why this is either; a problematic way to conduct yourself, a failure in logics/reasoning or a generally poor behaviour you should strive to avoid for yourself. Bc I feel it is of value and importance to do our best to mitigate "up and coming" abusers and help steer potential trainwrecks back on track. I could say all of these things. Or I could simply just say idgaf. And all of them would be true.

[broitsf-ckingfreezing]

You know what

I think it’s really sad the way we treat Dooku as a Jedi Master. Not as a Sith, fuck that guy; he fell to the dark side and he fell HARD. He is irredeemable in that respect.

I’m talking about Jedi Master Dooku, who only interacts with Qui-Gon Jinn in Legends and fanon (because in TOTJ he had already fallen and was actively taking steps towards the downfall of the Jedi/Republic and becoming the apprentice). *Even then, I don’t really respect TOTJ as canon because of the awful way it paints the Jedi, but I will concede it as canon from the perspective of Dooku as an unreliable narrator. I just hate THAT bit where he straight up THROWS Qui-Gon and force chokes a guy and GETS AWAY WITH IT because “uwu the Jedi awe bad and cowwupt and Dooku was a victim 👉👈”

I always hated that because Obi and Dooku meet for the first time in AOTC, then clearly Enlightened MaverickTM Qui-Gon (see my opinions on THIS in @antianakins beautifully worded post) must have been abused by his master and kept Obi-Wan away from him to “protect him from evil” yadda yadda yadda, whatever. That Qui-Gon specialised in Ataru instead of Makashi like his master because Dooku was EvilTM and Qui-Gon wanted to “get back at him” or “escape trauma” or some shit like that, never because it is perfectly normal for a Jedi to find their strength in a form that is different from their teacher’s (see Anakin, Obi-Wan, WINDU, Dooku himself).

Or that because Master Dooku wore relatively regal looking robes (again, the only canonical proof of this we have is in TOTJ and COUNT Dooku, AKA ruler of Serenno) then he had a taste for “the finer things in life,” words used by EVERY fanfiction author, and was always either straight up a Sith the entire time or, at the very least, a bad Jedi who followed his own rules like Anakin. I disagree.

It has NEVER been canonically established that Dooku was an abusive man. In fact, remember that the Jedi consider Dooku a FRIEND? Even in AOTC when Padme rightly accuses Dooku of attempting to assassinate her, they extend to him the benefit of the doubt. Because he was a Jedi Master. A good one. So good, in fact, that when he outright aligns himself with a faction looking to actively separate from the Republic and the Jedi, they trust that his judgement is that he is doing right by his people. Not that he is plotting a galaxy-wide takeover.

(Don’t even get me started on Ki-Adi Mundi, the voice of reason, frequently being abused by the fans just because SOMEONE had to say this line. Clearly he’s evil! He’s an idiot! He’s corrupt! *rolls eyes*)

But why then did Dooku never meet Obi-Wan as a padawan, you ask?

It HAS been canonically established that Obi-Wan is a powerful Jedi and a powerful diplomat even before he became The Negotiator (they wouldn’t send any run-of-the-mill padawan and master duo to dispute the Naboo conflict, they sent DIPLOMATS). And he is Busy As Fuck. Remember, as a padawan he spent a YEAR on the run with Satine and Qui-Gon. And if you were to accept the Melida/Daan and Bandomeer arcs from Legends as canon, that probably adds up to another YEAR spent away from the temple, NOT including recovery time after those periods because we don’t have any real basis for how long it takes a Jedi, or even just Obi-Wan, to bounce back from the physical, mental, and Force trauma induced by these hefty skirmishes. Don’t forget, in two of these instances, Obi-Wan is only 13-14, and in the other he’s presumably about 18. And bacta tanks aren’t a magical fix-all. They don’t heal starvation, extremely long-term physical neglect/hurts, just like they don’t grow back limbs.

Dooku was also probably busy as hell. It is very likely that the two teams were never in the temple at the same time, or if they were, they were probably busy. Like teaching their respective padawans (remember a master can have more than one padawan, just not at the same time, and now that I think about it, it is pretty odd we never (hardly ever?) canonically see masters who have clearly had more than one padawan in their lifetime). Or healing from traumas. Or hanging out with friends. Or researching, or writing reports, or literally ANYTHING that could make someone busy enough to forgo introducing a child to their grandmaster. I mean, how many times did you visit your grandparents as a teenager? Probably not very often compared to the big picture that is your life.

Why didn’t they meet when Obi-Wan was knighted, then? Well, TOTJ shows us that Qui-Gon’s death was at least a little traumatic for his master, and that was his last straw. Dooku left. And after that, he probably didn’t want to see the child Qui-Gon raised. The boy who got to hear his pseudo-son’s final words and who died IN HIS ARMS. We also have NO IDEA in canon exactly how many missions Obi-Wan and Anakin went on, nor how long they lasted, but we can guess that they were an extremely busy pair knowing Obi-Wan’s prowess in diplomacy PLUS the recent reemergence of the literal thought-extinct Sith PLUS the frankly horrific ratio of Jedi to Force Null beings in the galaxy (meaning there just aren’t enough Jedi to get around to all these places) PLUS teaching a rescued slave child with childhood memories of the outer rim the ways of the Jedi and core worlds. We also know that by the time of AOTC, Anakin being probably about 17-18, possibly on the cusp of 19 which is his Knighting age, the pair have been on at least 9 missions where Anakin had to rescue Obi-Wan. Knowing Obi-WAN’s skill and power, and that these missions most likely occurred when Anakin was old enough to do things like save Obi-Wan from a whole NEST of gundarks, this is NOT a common occurrence. Even if consistently in 1 of every 5 missions Obi-Wan has to be rescued by Anakin, that adds to at least 40 missions where he didn’t. That’s a lot of missions in a ten year span on top of all the other things Jedi have to do that aren’t considered missions, again, like teaching, attending functions, researching and learning because Jedi must be a wellspring of knowledge to successfully mediate/placate/please whomever it is they’re interacting with.

[tallysgreatestfan-art]

Disabled4Disabled ships spotlight for Disability Pride Month: Princess Entrapta of Dryl and Lord Hordak (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

The first time I not just saw someone like me, a bisexual mentally ill autistic woman, but also a relationship like mine, was when I was 22 years old, in She-Ra and the Princesses of Power.

Entrapta and Hordak are both side characters, but their stories touched me the most.

Entrapta starts of as a recluse, building robots and weapons and other technology in her castle. She gets recruited by the good guys, but she never quite fits in with them, and they treat her fairly bad, being constantly annoyed at her autistic traits, infantilizing and dehumanizing her, best shown by one of them actually leashing her, which the series treats as an hilarious joke.

Other than that however, she is portrayed amazingly accurate. She is chaotic and sometimes focuses on things others might find strange in the situation, mostly technology, but she also is very competent in her field of expertise, and she is very empathic and caring – just not in the way the good guys expect her to.

She has peculiar habits about how she eats her food – all in tiny pieces – and she is even seen stimming multiple times, the classical hand flapping, but also turning rapidly in a chair, or using her prehensile hair.

Later she ends up defecting to the bad guys, who treat her slightly better, though still mostly use her for her skills. That ends when her brazenness and disregard for rules make her end up in the lab of the reclusive bad guys leader, Hordak. He tries to enforce his usual intimidation and power dynamic, but Entrapta is not having it, and in the end, he is impressed by her and her technological prowess, and they start working together.

Hordak seems like your typical generic evil overlord villain type, however, he starts to become fascinating as it is shown to be a facade to hide his insecurities and trauma.

Hordak has some form of muscular atrophy along with cardiovascular problems that make him prone to fainting. This made the leader of the interstellar cult he was created for cast him out, stranding him on the planet the show takes place, and now he desperately tries to prove he is capable enough to be worth something.

He built his own mobility aids in the form of a sci-fi power armor, which does not reflect the experience of real life people with muscular atrophy, but works well as a metaphor for how many disabled people have to hide their disabilities in order to find work or be respected. I really saw myself in that, however I must add that I am, while autistic and bipolar, able-bodied.

It could come across as the disability makes you evil trope, but I think it works because the narrative is firm in saying that what happened to both Hordak and Entrapta was unjust, and they are right to rage against the system that abused them like that – just their methods are too extreme.

The most touching part of their arcs is their surprisingly tender romance. First they bond over being mad scientists, then they bond over being disabled and outcasts for that and hating themselves, and finally even help each other to overcome that hate. I never saw this thing I experienced so often with my disabled too lovers portrayed anywhere, and I felt so seen by their romance.

(Another nice touch is how Entrapta is clearly the more dominant of the two, which is a wonderful gender role subversion).

Fate divides them, and they have to fight to get back together, but in the end, both of them survive and have time to heal.

There are definitely downsides to them as rep, both of them being villains, Entraptas abuse at the hands of the good guys being treated as funny rather than awful and her being blamed for it in the end, and the last, fairly bad season making it ambivalent if Hordak is still disabled at all and refusing to engage with this aspect of him any further, and then there is the in scarily large parts extremely ableist fandom and even ableist members of the crew. But they still mean so much to me.

[t4tpumpkinduo]

if those text post about the sa stuff is about cq i am baffled with how blind someone has to be to be that bad at media literacy and racist hello

no like. lmao it's super abt cq and yeah. it's horrible.✌️ i like don't even know where to begin w what an awful take it is. can we be people.

it's just uhh. well. imo not good to take v v lighthearted joke/outta context bits that aren't given narrative weight and then spin them into something they Never Were for some like. idk. leeway? is that what it is? leveling the playing field? i see this talk abt cquackity frm a lot of ppl (v consistently in cdr*blr, just to paint a picture lmao.) but the one that makes me the saddest is frm ppl who rlly like cschlatt and wnna fight back at his unjust bigoted fanon treatment by being unjust and bigoted to. another character?  like. ok? 😭

the worst thing is, for the second group, (first group don't matter i'm not wasting my time arguing w ppl like that), is that it's coming from ppl who are like. all things considered completely right abt cschlatt! it's absolutely correct to get upset abt an addict being demonized, having all his actions taken in the worst faith imaginable. having joke bits that don't have narrative weight treated as hard canon when that's not the case at all, just to paint some stupid picture that woobifies and dilutes other characters at his textually supposed to be sympathetic expense. it's ridiculous! that's all true!! cschlatt sweep forever that's my special princess like i agree!!!

so if you can understand that taking bits where he's like slapping cqs ass, or making boy prostitute jokes at cfundy, or batting people around jokingly/w no narrative weight are clearly meant to be at most shitty jests w no added pressure to them, and painting it as smthing else is disingenuous and transparent. why the hell are you taking like this abt cquackity then 😭 why the hell are HIS actions suddenly being scrutinized w the same rightfully critiqued incorrect lense! it's just sowugrrugrbrfnjfk

and on top of that, you cannot divorce the way ppl look at things and the way they filter them. like uhh for example. there's a stream where ckarl just like drugs cquackity. he puts heroin in his shit and it causes him a psychotic break and q chases the guy like an animal abt it for quite a while until he sobers up. ckarl also called him like ugly and stupid and unlikable and at one point hunted him down with an axe across the map bcs he left him at a joke altar. and i have never once in my life seen ppl freak out at ckarl abt it and go ohhh he must be a secret abuser oooh. BECAUSE THAT'S NOT TRUE AND SHOULD NEVER BE A TALKING POINT IN THE FIRST PLACE 😭 OBVIOUSLY!!! it's not supposed to be taken that way in the narrative at all. ckarl is explicitly a good guy, who means well and likes playing pranks on his friends who he loves dearly enough to sacrifice himself for them over and over. there's no awful weight to these actions he's playing his damn touys. when shit is meant to be held to a standard it literally just is held to it the dsmp isn't subtle there's no way around it. and if smone tried to tell you anything different abt it the ridicule they'd deserve would be astronomical.

ctubbo tried to drown ctommy and spent the whole time giggling abt it. that doesn't mean ctubs is some kinda freak abt it because it's treated in the narrative as a bit. ctommy hits and lashes out at cjack a lot. it's never treated or supposed to be taken as ctommy fucking abusing him. 😭 cschlatt and cq make jokes at eachother and it just point blank is never coded in any other way than them doing bits and speaking in freak tongues and having gay ghost sex infront of cq's fucking dad and being light hearted assholes to eachother until we get to the scenes where weight IS being applied. and even then it's not abusive it's human conflict between equals. like fuck's sake.

and idk. like i said, it rlly is interesting that it's applied to those character specifically. and the hypocritical gross ass double standard of it all is suddenly like. so ignorable huh how weird. so you see specifically the addict character who's at most an asshole as some uniquely scary demon evil abuser despite him not being that at all. you see this mentally ill deeply psychotic dude who's at most an asshole and think he's a violent freak who beats his brother even though he clearly isn't. you see this brown character, one of the ONLY ones, and suddenly yr stumbling over yrself abt how he's a violent assaulter and also fantasy racist to white characters despite all the. wow yr rlly cool and normal and not transparent at all hahaha. wow. hah. what a world.

anyways yeah like. i'm not gnna engage w this fuckass topic no more gensrs. it's bad for my blood sugars it's bad for my liver i've said my piece i'm done i'm sick of it. 👍 i'm just gnna start blocking even more ppl and focusing on the good of the fanbase instead. sucks that it's so common and unchecked but whatttt can you do except keep sending ghouls and devils to their addresses. if you have this wack ass "interpretation" do us both a favor and fucking block me. sword slash through the chest and you're on fire.

[moriartyluver]

Hiii can you write William Moriarty x reader when she is dancer for some wealthy man who invited Moriartys for dinner and after dinner reader showed up to dance and she was uncomfortable and Moriartys saw it. So after a few days she came to their place and she wanted to know if they had something with killing her boss(noble guy). And after like 6 months living with them(they asked her to join the group) Y/n confessed her feelings for William after there meeting infront of everyone.(Louis and Bond helped her to confess)

Im hoping that you will write this, have a great day and be safe please

A/N: I’m going to be brutally honest, I’ve never liked the ballerina or dancer trope in moriarty the patriot fics but I will see what I can do dear! I hope you stay safe too and thank you <3

Warnings: abuse, classism, murder & death, just the moriarty brothers being mass murderers NOT PROOF READ!!

Character: William James Moriarty from Moriarty The Patriot x fem! dancer! Reader

Genre: miscellaneous

Prompt: above^^

format: oneshot

“We have a dancer, you know, Count Moriarty.” Your boss said to the oldest moriarty son.

“Is that so? She must be talented to have fit your idealistic expectations,” Albert smiled.

The duke who had hired your a few years before called out your name. When you hadn’t arrived immediately, he called for you again, this time in an angry whisper. You rushed into the room on his command. The three brothers had just finished their expensive meal, something you could only dream of.

When you walked in, the middle brother, William seemed to be staring at you. He was analysing your timid body language and frail form. His scarlet eyes managed to notice the bruises on your arms and upper body that you tried to hide with make up. He deduced that this noble hadn’t been treating you kindly at all. Far from it, actually.

You were nervous and the handsome man looking at you, maybe even judging you, had just made you more frightened. Your arms were folded, unconsciously protecting yourself from the potential danger that was your short tempered boss. He wasn’t beyond telling you off in front of guests and had even thrown a glass at you during a performance after you accidentally stumbled while dancing.

You had grown up in a lower class family. Your father and mother would bring home such a small sum of money to your family, after working in factories every day. The work conditions were awful and you knew that.

Your father wanted to send you off to the factory along with the rest of your siblings once you were of age but your passion was to dance. You wanted to be a dancer and live a life that your parents couldn’t even dream of, so when you were told you could join the circus as a dancer, you leapt at the opportunity, bidding farewell to your angry parents in hope of a new life.

Unfortunately, the conditions in the circus were not ideal. You would wake up everyday, hoping each performance would be your last. You prayed every night for God to kill you or bring you something better. Something that never seemed to arrive.

After only a few years of being in the hell hole you knew as the circus, you were sold to a rich duke who needed some entertainment in his life. The circus manager had given you to him without warning and lied to him, saying you were the most valuable member of the circus troupe, which you had known wasn’t true. You couldn’t even get a single meal daily. Clearly they were just lying to get money out of the noble.

The years of torment didn’t end at the circus gates, but got even worse. Every day, you trained harder and harder, hoping that you could maybe reached the big stage some day, even if it was the smallest of roles. You would keep praying that someone would save you from this nightmare. Anyone.

And they had arrived that dinner while you fumbled about, hoping to make the best performance possible.

The three watched in awe of your skills. You not being a professional seemed like a disservice. Someone with your talent should be treated as such. Still, it was evident you were uncomfortable. You couldn’t maintain eye contact and you seemed so unconfident. It wouldn’t take a genius to realise you were terrified of your boss.

Once they left the dinner, the brother discussed what could be done to eliminate the noble, seeing as they planned on killing him off before the dinner due to other claims of abuse from his servants, so bad that even other cruel nobles began criticising him for it.

You coming to them week later was the final straw.

You managed to sneak out while the duke was gone and found your way over to the Moriarty Manor. It wasn’t difficult to find but your legs were certainly aching by the time you had knocked on their front door. You had heard from your fellow servants of a crime counsellor nearby. Some had even discussed going to him to murder the duke. After a few days of research, you realised where you needed to go.

The door opened to reveal the youngest brother, Louis. He looked at you through his round glasses. What were you here for?

He guided you to the lounge and called for William to come down from his study. Albert was working at the trade company that day so he wasn’t present in the manor at that moment. Once William’s red eyes landed on you, he already knew what you were here for.

“I want you to kill my boss..please.”

You had fantasised about this moment through your time under the dukes authority. You didn’t even need William to plan anything for you. That is how much you thought about it.

“Your wish is our command, Miss (last name)”

You explained all the hardships you had gone through with teary eyes to him and he could only look at you with sympathy. If William could hug you, he would have.

The day of the dukes death came shortly after your encounter. You planned to have him fall down the stairs after tripping on some unseen object. It was a realistic death and was easily passed off as an accident. This happened while William and Albert came to visit the duke during a tea party.

Maybe he didn’t trip on anything though. Maybe William slipped and let his emotions get the best of him, causing him to push the duke down the stairs while they were being taken to the upper floor.

Once the duke had died, you managed to slip away, unnoticed and been taken in by the Lords of crime, who offered you stay in the Moriarty Manor.

Months had passed and you managed to get along with the other members well. Sebastian, who saw you as a younger sister, had taken you under his wing and trained you to become a fine assassin. You were successful countless times and felt yourself heat up each time William praised you for your hard work.

Bonde and Louis had also taken a liking to you. The former saw his old self in you, a girl striving to pursue her passion while Louis was fond of you because you seemed to be the only one who could ever make William take care of himself.

Almost everyone could tell that both you and William had feelings for each other. You could barely look each other in the eye without blushing furiously and getting flustered. That’s why, when you had confided in Louis about your feelings (and Bonde somehow managed to overhear you, then also joining in on the conversation) they had both urged you to confess your feelings to the emotionally constipated man. Even though they could tell he loved you dearly, he didn’t seem to want to tell you his feelings in fear that you may reject him.

6 months after William had decided to take you in, you dragged him to the rose gardens, where you planned to confess to him.

“William, I…I’m going to get straight to the point..” you could feel yourself grow warmer with every word “I’m in love with you and I want you to know that..I always hoped that I’d just be dead..or given something better.. a better life that never seemed to come..but I think now it has, and it’s all thanks to you!”

Cue the soft lips pressed against your cheek.

“I love you too, (name).”

[naavispider]

What do you think Spider’s relationship with the McCoskers was like (Nash, Mary, and the boys)? Spider is apparently so desperate for a family that even Quaritch is considered a better candidate for a father than Nash so I’m assuming from that and what we’ve seen in the comics that it’s very negative, possibly bordering on abuse and neglect.

Imma preface this by saying I've only read The High Ground volume 1, so I don't know any of the background info from vol 2 and 3 about the McCoskers, however, I think I know everything I want to about them 😌 (tw abuse)

I hate to say it, but I think they were pretty awful to him. Mary and Nash were his adoptive parents, they wee the people who were supposed to love him, care for him, treat him as their own... and yet we never, not once, heard Spider even mention them. He acts like they don't exist, and for all intents and purposes, they don't.

Something must have gone extremely wrong for Spider to feel so 'parentless' despite having the McCoskers. Hell, we even see Norm and Max take a more active role in parenting him than his supposed family. Because that's what an adoptive family is: a family. True and total, despite not being blood related.

Which makes the fact that it failed even more heart-wrenching. I think this is strong evidence that points towards abuse. Spider is clearly desperate for parental figures in his life, and obviously he's not getting it from Nash and Mary. To me what makes the most sense if that they were abusive in the way they emotionally treated Spider.

they never wanted him around

they only took him because there was literally no one else

when they fell pregnant with their own kids, a lot of the caregiving fell on other adults' shoulders

they always favoured the boys more than spider

they changed spider's room into a nursery for their first child, without a plan for where spider would sleep when it arrived

the scientists were able to find him a spare room in Hell's Gate a bit further away from where the McCoskers live - it used to be a store cupboard but with a bit of help from Norm spider makes it look okay

neglect and emotional abuse take their toll on spider over the years and he comes to see Nash especially as just a person who was supposed to love him, but doesn't

he never called them mom or dad

the other scientists see what is going on but what can they do? they can't take spider in themselves

when spider gets back from the forest after a long day spent with the Omatikaya, the McCoskers just ignore his return.

"You're late Spider. Should we even bother saving dinner for you?"

"Perhaps you should ask to stay the night with Kiri and Lo'ak?"

"You got hurt? Go to the med bay, they'll sort you out."

Eventually, he just stops letting them know he's back safe, and they start to go days without even seeing each other (age 7-8)

Nash in particular starts to resent spider - "what are you doing here boy, we've just put the kids to bed!"

no one tells spider to brush his hair, take showers, brush his teeth etc.

spider takes meals where he can get them - he always misses dinner with the McCoskers because they eat early before putting the boys to bed

it's how he started to eat with the Sullys

he sometimes pops in for lunch with the science guys - he knows what time they break and also that the McCoskers aren't there

spider is never interested in playing with the McCosker's other kids (idk in my headcanon he is the only human child on Pandora even though that goes against established canon) because he would always get the blame if they got hurt or upset

the favouritism was so real that he started avoiding the family altogether

the McCoskers were obviously fine with this

Overall, terrible, terrible treatment of a child who needed a family. Even if that family was just one person. The McCoskers were chosen because they were a young couple who wanted kids of their own (they saw spider as 'practice'), and who were deemed 'reliable' - not because they actually wanted him or were emotionally available. It was a collective failure on all of the humans at Hell's Gate, because they all failed to step in and change the situation when it became clear the adoption wasn't working. Multiple failures all around.

And so, when Spider meets Quaritch - an adult whose singular parental focus is on him... who is constantly checking on his wellbeing, who gets mad when Spider puts himself in harm's way... it becmes abundantly clear why Spider falls for Quaritch as a father figure.

[eisforeidolon]

Hey there, I hope you don't mind me dropping in here on a topic from a few days ago and harping on about it (I'm not very well-versed on ask boxes so I'm a bit unsure of the etiquette. If I commit a major faux-pas, forgive me). Apologies if this ends up a little long and a lot sarcastic - I have opinions about this. It's given me a fair bit of grief over the years.

Y'know, I see these 'abusive Dean' takes float across my dash a fair bit (apparently not being into Destiel or Wincest means I must be a Bitter Sam-girl instead and hate Dean, according to Tumblr). The oh-so-delightful 'abusive husband Dean and beaten wife Sam' takes. People calling Sam 'beaten wife coded' in general. One based on a grand total of two instances where he flinched cause Dean made a loud violent noise near him (who the hell wouldn't, you don't need to be 'beaten wife coded' to flinch when someone chucks a chair at a wall, it's almost like Sam has some kind of trauma about various other things and might be generally jumpy...). Or taking the end of S10 out of context and choosing to forget that Dean was nearly fully taken over by a mark of fratricide (which he still managed to overcome, they conveniently fail to mention that). And I just... ugh.

What I never understood about these takes is like... why? There's trying to paint your fave in a good light and a character you hate in a bad one, but then there's making the heart and soul of the show itself into something so ugly it ruins it for other people, like your Anon, and honestly this happened to me too a while ago before I forced myself to stop listening to the greater fandom and find a few I trusted (like you). Even still, it gets all up in my head sometimes. Why are these people finding such glee in making the central relationship so awful? What are you getting out of this show if you think that about it?

Like, imagine looking at the finale through this lens. Congratulations, you turned something sad but ultimately bittersweet into something horrible, the 'beaten wife' dedicating the rest of their life to their 'abuser' then being forced to be with them for eternity, and this is portrayed as a good thing. Why would you ever want to view it that way? Plus, it's rather forced if you take it as a whole - the few times Sam stood there looking contrite while Dean did something stupid pale in comparison to the number of times he calls him out on it, even in the later seasons (14x12 Prophet and Loss, anyone? 15x17 Unity?).

I guess people can take from media what they want, it's obviously not my place to police people's enjoyment, but I just never got the appeal. It seems so counter to what the show was clearly actually trying to do, yet they tout it as fact (now where have I seen that before). Like it's somehow a bad thing to enjoy the show on its own terms. Coming across these takes still kinda bums me out. This goes for people insisting it's the other way around too - I can't stand any brother vs. brother stuff either, it's never anything but bad faith, and honestly kinda misses the point. Some of these people boggle my mind with their lack of empathy.

If there's one thing this fandom is good for, it's honing your ability to roll your eyes and move along. It's full of so much absolute batshit insanity that you'll never survive if you listen to every take. Trust me, I've tried. Do you know which tags to block to avoid this kinda stuff? Cause I never seem to be able to.

Sorry if this was a bit of a rant dump, heh. I'm usually a chronic lurker, but this discourse in particular bothers me immensely.

You're absolutely fine, I mind neither bringing up previous topics nor excessive length (be a bit of a hypocrite if I did, tbh). And yeah, it's one of my least favorite SPN fandom discourses, too.

It does feel like it's pretty hard to find any corner of the fandom where you won't at least occasionally see one side or the other's worst faith not!fave-brother-is-terrible takes. And oh, do I hate the 'beaten wife Sam' half of the 'Dean is an abuser' discourse equation just as much. Like, supposedly they like Sam, so why on earth would they want to pretend this stubborn competent badass of a character is actually a helpless pathetic marshmallow?! Same with Dean on the opposite side of the fandom - it's not just the character they're constantly maligning I can't recognize, the character they "like" similarly bears very little resemblance to the one I'm a fan of!

So far as I can tell, some people just desperately need their favorite character to be the best one who is always in the right. Whether it's over-identification or what, I don't know. They seem to think they achieve it by reframing large portions of the canon as justifying, unfairly attacking, or insulting that character as necessary. Except they don't see how from the outside it very often looks entirely absurd, regardless of if they're doing it in favor of Sam, Dean, or Castiel. Which is not to say there aren't parts of canon which treat all of those characters ridiculously in one way or another? But it's the total fixation on it only being the case with their favorite character in every possible situation where it gets weird.

Every great once in a while, I do manage to come across a take that really annoys me. But for the most part? The extreme ones are just so absurd, so divorced from what anyone even vaguely trying to understand the other characters' motivations and what the show quite obviously intended? I just can't take it at all seriously. Especially when they (as they so often do) get canon details wrong or pointedly "forget" all the canon points that blatantly don't fit their narrative.

Unfortunately, like with a certain ship, when it comes to tagging? You're kind of at the mercy of the self-awareness of the poster about how much other people may not want to see their hot takes.

[letstalktea]

Death Won’t Do Us Part

Content: Harper x Reader, Avery x Reader, Reader is dead at the start of the fic and it does not get better, physical abuse, Reader and Avery are implied to be in a more serious relationship, mentions of brain damage

Word Count: 1.5k

This wasn’t you. This lifeless, immobile husk with clouding eyes staring blankly ahead and skin that was slowly losing color. These stiff, cooling hands weren’t the same ones Harper had so lovingly held, disguised behind an unsteady mask of professionalism, each time you walked into their office for a check-up.

Their swirling eyes looked up at the dark brown ones – so dark they were nearly black – staring down at them. “You should have called sooner.”

Avery looked none the worse for wear, even staring directly at your corpse lying in the bed of his guest room which he must have moved you to – or paid someone to move you to. “It took time to clean the mess they made.”

A mess? Rigor mortis was already setting in and Avery was calling your death a mess. Not even an accident. Just a mess.

“And how can I help you with this mess?” Harper hated using Avery's callous words to refer to you, but they also knew the extent of the man’s rage and how easily it could turn on anyone he thought couldn’t do anything to fight back against him. They’d taken care of your open wounds and broken bones plenty of times to know just how dangerous the man was behind closed doors and they weren’t willing to find out just how much lower on the totem pole Avery thought they were than himself.

“Fix it. Discreetly.”

That would have been easier if Avery had called them when you had first gotten hurt rather than waiting to cover his own ass. If they had gotten there sooner, been able to see you before the life had left your eyes and Avery had moved your body – and you had clearly been moved – Harper may have been able to stabilize you. Better yet, if Avery had brought you to the hospital rather than hiding your body away in the guest room, they likely could have given you proper treatment. As things stood now, however, bringing you back from beyond the grave would require a miracle.

They wanted answers, both because they wanted to know what Avery had done to you this time but also because they needed to know what it was they were being asked to fix. 

“How did this happen?”

Avery’s face twisted into anger, as if being questioned was in and of itself a taboo. Now that they had seen the expression for himself, Harper understood why you were always so secretive about your injuries even though it was obvious where they had come from. If that was the face you saw every time you stepped out of line or made even the smallest mistake, they could understand why you never dared to say anything that would risk your safety any further.

Harper wasn’t you though. They were just the person having to deal with the aftermath.

“The longer it takes me to figure out what happened to them, the more time they have to rot. Their eyes are already clouding over and their eyesight won’t be as good as it was. They may even have some leftover joint and mobility issues due to the chemical changes in their muscles. It would be more helpful if you happened to know how they hurt themselves.”

Avery was too put together to click his tongue, but Harper could sense that it was the exact reaction to display his displeasure with the situation.

“They tripped and hit their head on the corner of the bookcase.”

In other words, Avery had hit you hard enough that you fell and hit your head, and that had killed you.

They’d seen your blood many, many times. From collecting it in vials to patching up the less than savory injuries you’d come into the hospital with over the years. They’d seen you in all manners of state. Once, they’d even had to cut your forehead open to pick out shards of glass that had buried themselves deep beneath your skin. That day was awful for everyone involved. They swore to themselves that nothing could be worse than that day, especially after you started crying in fear that your face had been ruined and how angry Avery would be if the stitches left a scar after your wound healed.

Avery always made you bleed, it was just that this time the bleeding had been mostly inside your brain. They wouldn’t know if it was epidural or subdural without further testing, but the result was the same either way; death. Even if they managed to bring you back, a feat seeming more and more impossible by the second, you would have brain damage. 

If Avery would be upset by a scratch on your face, they couldn’t imagine his unadulterated rage when they told him that you wouldn’t be the same person when you came back. Avery wanted a trophy, not a partner. If you weren’t polished to his liking, he would throw you away and get another. 

But one person’s trash was another person’s treasure.

Avery wouldn’t want you if you didn’t live up to his ideals, but Harper would. They would always want you, no matter what you were like when you came back. If Avery would gladly let you go and leave you in their waiting hands, that would be fine. In fact, if the brain damage was bad enough, perhaps they could get you a permanent residency in the asylum, where they could keep a close eye on you everyday.

You would have no more injuries, no more late night emergencies, no more terrifying calls like this one. You would be perfectly safe in a room they would never allow you to leave because they could write that you weren’t capable of being on your own. You would only have to see them everyday. They wouldn't even allow the orderlies to see you. Even when they were away at the hospital, they wouldn't allow another person near you.

Harper tried not to smile because they knew it would give away their intentions.

“May I have a moment?” They asked Avery in the hopes that he would leave the room so they wouldn’t have to try and suppress their jubilation.

Avery didn’t move.

“This will be ghastly,” Harper said, trying to touch on Avery's sensitivities.

He seemed to think about it for a moment. “I expect results.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“And if you can’t do anything?”

“Whether I can or can’t, you won’t find this issue when you come back.” Because, if they couldn’t fix you, they knew Avery was expecting them to get rid of the problem in a way that didn’t cause him any more trouble than he’d already gone through. That’s what it meant to be discreet.

Avery looked at them, then at you. 

If Harper didn’t know better, they would think the annoyance gave way to the smallest spark of sadness when his eyes landed on your placid face. But he didn’t earn the right to be sad about your current state.

Avery left the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as it was just Harper and you, they smiled. They smiled so widely that their cheeks hurt and they had to hold back their laughter. 

They could whisk you away right now and Avery wouldn't question a thing. They could put you in your new – technically old – room and keep you close. Avery would never look for you at the asylum because he thought the place was beneath him. 

The only flaw in their plan was that you were very much still dead.

No.

You couldn't be dead.

The dead didn't come back to life. No matter how good of a doctor Harper was, that would remain true. You were simply playing at being dead because you were trying to get away from Avery. That was the only way this night could end in any way other than tragedy. 

Harper understood your plan without you telling them a thing and was happy to help you carry it out. They examined the spot where you'd hit your head and reasoned that it was merely bruised. The clouding of your eyes was a trick of the light and your stiff limbs were the result of your tiredness.

You were fine.

You had to be because, if you weren’t, there was nothing they could do.

But, because you were clearly fine – maybe a little roughed up due to Avery's heavy hand, but otherwise fine – they would have to whisk you away from this place. Avery already gave their tacit approval for you to vanish without a word or trace and Harper saw no reason not to take him up on his generous offer.

Harper would gladly keep you.