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vashtijoy · 2 years ago

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ohhhhh would you mind sharing your akechi post-canon ideas and aus? 👀👀

Ahahaha oh god THANK YOU FOR ASKING

so with @nardaviel, I have this whole ... thing, where Akechi comes back from the third semester and finds himself alive, using the deleted kakekomidera scene, where the two people who remember him from childhood talk about him at the refuge. He heads back to Tokyo and turns himself in to get Ren out of detention, pretty much as on 12/24 though Ren doesn't know he's there, and then he spends a month in jail being interrogated and staring at the walls and quietly going mad.

At this point he gets swept up by Mitsuru, possibly through Sae (who knows about the shadow operatives), and offered a place with her. He takes great pleasure in telling her to shove it up her ass, and unfortunately at this point there's a whole "or we could ask Amamiya-kun" thing, and tl;dr a highly resentful Akechi ends up working for Mitsuru—probably in a very grey and joyless capacity for a while, because you'd have to be out of your mind to trust him with anything. The clip on 3/20 at the train station is him being transferred from police custody to, essentially, Mitsuru's custody. He's traded what was at least independence of a kind in prison for putting himself into the hands of another rich, powerful asshole who wants to use him, for the sake of the one person he cares about, and the irony alone is almost enough to make him throw himself in front of that train Ren's sitting in.

Meanwhile, Ren thinks Akechi is dead, and is having his whole thing, off in the ass end of nowhere by himself.... and two years pass, during which he returns to Tokyo to study. And that's when Ren Finds Akechi Again, in the street, and punches him in the face, because why the hell not. And then, after some fallout and Ren nearly getting arrested again, they slowly have a chance to find what they might have been.

It also includes Futaba having both of their phones bugged and intruding on every text conversation they ever have, Akechi having an ankle tag for years and some sophisticated electronic locks on his doors, some extremely nice grounds with flowering trees and streams and little bridges and shit, Haru somehow being the one to find Akechi first and keeping it to herself, the most nervous bookseller in Jimbocho, Ren taking over management of Leblanc, a ton of "I'm 20 and I've done everything I'll ever do", Prisoner Angst, I'm Not Dead Angst, Akechi's seething hatred of Mitsuru and his certainty that she is a Maruki-in-waiting or at least the centre of another grand conspiracy, a lot of takeout, some very well-compensated gate guards, and a stillborn plan for Ren and Goro to skip the country entirely and hide out in Argentina or somewhere.

And, here and there, on occasion, they get over themselves enough to make out.

Since you were kind enough to ask, here's a relevant fic snippet from my collection, below the cut.

. . .

The next Sunday, Akechi heads to Jimbocho, to go through the second-hand shops. It’s fine. Weird little antique shops selling fripperies from the 50s and 60s; curio shops full of absolutely tacky trash, one with its window displaying nothing but ceramic bears; and the bookshops, of course, the reason Akechi is really here. Though he toys with buying one of the ugly ceramic bears, just to smash it.

There’s also an otaku shop, full of tiny Western figures that you’re supposed to paint, the sort of thing Akechi thinks he’d be good at, if he gave a fuck. But he doesn’t go in; the shop is full of awkward-looking students his own age, stereotypical otakus. Even besides that, Akechi dislikes students; they remind him that he’s not in university himself. Like he’d expected to be. Or to live long enough.

So he gravitates back to the bookshops, leafing slowly through old texts with their subdued covers, or hardbacks with gilt; there are even some Meiji-era wasobon, in a glass cabinet, with their glued-paper spines and their titles on glued labels. He stares at those for quite a while, head tilted, wondering what they’d feel like in his hand. When he turns away, he feels much smaller, like when he was ten and he’d ride the bus here rather than go home.

It takes him quite a while to settle on only one purchase; he goes from shop to shop, keeping lists in his head, ticking off options here, discarding them there. He doesn’t realise he isn’t scowling, and he doesn’t think of it as a nice afternoon. But he also doesn’t think about the absolute fuckfest last week in Inaba, or how off-balance he’d felt when he stepped back into the cognitive world again for the first time, only to feel his ankle tag shift away along with the rest of his clothes.

If anything, he feels unsettled. Like nothing bad’s happening, and so that must be bad. He heads absently out of the last bookshop, with his lone purchase taped into a washi paper bag, thinking he’ll try one of the espresso shops that also litter the area, because coffee and books are so inescapably combined—

—when a hand like a steel claw closes on his wrist.

Akechi drops the book, spins all at once, still fast with a killer’s reflexes. He finds himself staring into a taut face, furious beneath its tangle of black hair, eyes sharp and accusing, crystals of black graphite shining in the sun. Amamiya Ren is staring at him, touching him, for fuck’s sake, and all at once Akechi feels like his guts have turned to leaking, toxic mercury.

“Akechi?” Ren is saying, in a barely-there voice.

“That’s my name,” Akechi says, considering the likelihood that he’ll have to break Ren’s arm to make him let go. “Let g—”

He doesn’t see Ren’s fist. It flies into his right cheek, totally untelegraphed, and he hits the street with a grunt. Fucking Joker, every time, ugh, he should have seen that—

“Ow,” he mutters. Passersby are clucking to each other, so disruptive of them; he hears worried footsteps at the door of the shop he just left. But mainly he hears Ren, bending over him to talk in a relentless undertone. “I thought you were dead,” he’s saying, all the worse for the lack of deliberate malice. “After everything, Akechi. You let me think you were dead again.”

Akechi lets his head drop back onto the kerb, because fuck getting up, he’ll just lie here in the gutter. “You sound so surprised.”

“You—” Ren jerks forward, looks like he thinks about throwing a kick. So it’s fortunate this is the moment the police arrive, a fat one and a tall one; honestly, Akechi thinks they breed them that way, in pairs. He feels a stab of vindictive satisfaction as the fat one grabs Ren by the wrists, until the colour drains from Ren’s face like someone’s pulled off one of his feet.

Akechi closes his eyes. “Wait,” he says, getting up with a wince and producing his police ID, haha, because he’s a shadow operative even if he’s the worst they have and a liability; he almost works with the police more than he works at the Kirijo compound, by now. The two beat cops go a bit bug-eyed, the idiots. “I’ll handle this,” Akechi says. “He’s just a little upset. Won’t happen again, will it?” He smiles at Ren, with a flash of sharp teeth, with the bruise rising on his cheekbone: play along.

Ren’s eyes burn, and for a moment it looks like he’ll say something graphic in fluent gutter trash, rather than obey; Akechi relates with his whole being. But then Ren looks down, sullen, and shakes his head: no. Akechi beams for the cops.

“You see,” he says. “Sorry to have troubled you both. He’s very emotional, it’s not really his fault. Thank you for your work….” And they float away, charmed by a few utterly rote words from a stranger with a confidential department ID. And then….

And then that just leaves Ren. Who is staring at Akechi in bitter silence, and obviously, beneath his flat expression, raging.

Someone appears at Akechi’s elbow. It’s the proprietor of the bookshop. “Your book,” he says nervously, handing Akechi the paper bag he dropped.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you,” Akechi says, taking it. The package is a little dented at one corner, but otherwise fine. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” He bows, and the shopkeeper bows and hurries away, and Akechi could just die, again, it’s all such a fucking—

Except that Ren is still there, staring at him with Joker’s eyes; with all that fury and force and—and something else, something brighter and deeper and so much worse. “Where are your glasses?” Akechi finds himself asking, switching his thicker, cheerful mask for his much more comfortable flat one.

“I don’t need them for you,” Ren says.

Fuck. “Well,” Akechi says, “I’m not dead. As we’ve established. And you’re not arrested. So I suggest we both go our—”

Ren steps forward, interrupting him. “I can’t believe you’re still doing the same old shit,” he says. “They let you work for the police? Are you going to be on TV again, next week?”

That’s too much; far too much from Ren, who has no idea of what he escaped, no idea Akechi paid his debt this way. His voice turns brittle. “Interesting that you assume I had a choice, Amamiya.” Ren flinches, peeping out through his own mask. Akechi lifts the book.

“I hope you haven’t damaged this.”

He wants to close his eyes. Instead, he turns away and starts walking, in silence. Ren ought to fuck off, but he’ll certainly follow; he’s just wired that way. The Jimbocho street feels soft and shaky, like Mementos did, except now Akechi’s too used to solid ground and it feels like his ankles will twist from under him at every moment.

Ren tags at his heels like a dog. “I’m not going anywhere, Akechi. You’ll have to kill me.”

Akechi pauses, almost glances back. “I can just arrest you.” Technically; somehow he’s never been put in a position where the right move would be an arrest.

“Yeah,” Ren is saying. “You just proved you won’t do that.”

Akechi presses a knuckle between his eyes, as he screws them shut. “What do you want? How did you even find me?”

“You don’t think I read?” Ren says, defensively, not looking around at the three bookshops within ten metres. “I just didn’t read around you.”

“I know you read,” Akechi says flatly. “I saw everything you did.”

He still hasn’t properly turned. He feels Ren’s eyes on the back of his neck, through his hair, through his shirt collar; he thinks he’d feel them through a brick fucking wall. “Hifumi saw you,” Ren says.

That’s when he turns, incredulous. Togo had seen him? And known who he was? “I’ve never spoken with Togo-san. How did she remember me?”

“Don’t ask me,” Ren says, with a weird light in his eye, like he’s pleased Akechi turned back to him. “Seems like it’s just a thing. My confidants—do you even know about those?—they all remember.”

For a moment he’s silent. “When everyone else has forgotten.”

“Yeah,” Ren says quietly. His hands have gone into his pockets. He’s taller than he was; his eyes are on a level with Akechi’s, now. Or is he just not slouching?

Akechi sighs. It makes sense. Togo, who Akechi had no connection with; who had no reason to share any of Okumura’s discretion. All of Amamiya’s little projects, remembering Akechi laughing like an idiot, playing the fool, bringing himself down on television.

He feels like he can’t think straight, like he always did. Like he wants to stay put, learning and listening, picking through every little detail Amamiya might or might not have dropped. “I’m sorry Mementos is gone,” he says. Ren looks back at him, unreadable. “Perhaps we could at least have beaten the shit out of each other.”

“Yeah,” Ren says, not laughing. “That might have helped.”

“It did help,” Akechi says abruptly. “Both times, in fact. Because I really never liked you, Amamiya.”

“I know,” Ren tells him, unaffected. “And here we both still are, I guess.” He stands there like someone’s dropped a block of concrete on the pavement. Like Akechi really would have to kill him, to make him give up or go away. And part of Akechi still wants to, while part of him wants this moment to linger. The two of them—one a hero and one, well, not exactly a hero—who entered the fire from opposite sides, and came out changed, together, and alone.

A coin flips. He feels Hereward’s resolve inside him.

“I was going for coffee,” he says, still curt. “Come, if you want. Or stand there like an idiot, till you get arrested again.”

He starts walking in the direction of the nearest coffee shop; it was that or let’s smash a ceramic bear. Ren follows. “A coffee shop?” he asks, at Akechi’s elbow now. “Is this your revenge?”

“Ren,” Akechi tells him, perfectly serious, “you have absolutely no idea.”

#asks #persona 5 #shuake #goro akechi #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #things i write

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 2 years ago

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Nooo not a whole one record of me stating animals are rad and that you’re a freak who likes incest about turtles from a kid show 😭 apparently I wasted my whole Halloween writing you two asks under 3 minutes. Aahhh, I still think I’ll sleep okay tonight. I’d love another fan mail though if you could spare some time for me. I always love to laugh 💖 also awww I’m an asshole?? :( I think I can live with that 😉.

You literally changed your blog because of me.

Did my tags really affect you that much? I genuinely had no idea I had this power.

Also, you are aware that I saw you delete your own devastating reblog?

Bullshit, by the way, since you’ve been quickly overcorrecting with your heading, based on language you would only know from a thorough reading, and yet

You tried to convince me you had the last word and then did everything you could to make sure no one who visits your blog would see what I said. You’re terrified of having people realizing what a loser you are and you know your rejoinders mean jack shit, because ignoring what I say doesn’t mean your friends won’t. So you deleted it.

Not to mention that the new “vampire girlboss” image doesn’t hide what it was this morning:

You are aware that Twilight is full of “problematic” ships, right? Old vampire man and underage girl? Werewolf boy and baby? Or do the rules not work for Nazi blondes?

And if you “had a life” we wouldn’t be having this conversation, because you wouldn’t be stalking people online. So ignore this stuff, it’s really your own shit anyway.

(Also, seriously, are you a toddler or just really dumb? That writing style makes you look like an overcaffeinated six year old. Mummy should put you down for your nap).

#tw bullying #terfs #stalking #harassment #obsession #twilight #I notice you didn't even mention the fact I called you a terf

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Errol (Naga) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Naga Additional Tags: Cheating, Infidelity, Break-ups, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Secretly In Love, Angst, Sex, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Dom/Sub, Ovipositor, Oviposition, Pregnancy, Babies, Eggs, Egg Laying Words: 7887

A commission for @anjhope1! After catching her fiance cheating, the reader breaks up with him and goes home miserable. The ex-fiance's brother, Errol, arrives on his brother's order to get his things from her apartment, but Errol is more interested in taking care of the reader and making sure she's okay. It leads to some confusing feelings and a confession. Please reblog leave feedback!

The Traveler’s Masterlist

You’d had your suspicions for a while, but it wasn’t until you got the message on social media from a girl he’d dated and dumped who had photographic proof of it that you finally had to face the truth.

Your fiance was cheating on you.

Eric was a naga and had been with you for more than five years. He had asked you to marry him, ring and all, on New Years Eve with his family. He had made a big show of it, too. And now, you were going to have to confront him about being a cheating bastard.

The woman who had been dumped told you that he was now dating her friend, and she had gotten the room number where they were supposed to meet. You got to the hotel with your heart in your throat and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” That was definitely Eric’s voice. He had told you that his friend needed help moving and that he’d be staying over to help him. What a good friend he was.

You deepened your voice in an effort to mask it. “Room service.”

“Oh, good, I was wondering if you were ever going to come,” Eric said, and the door swung open. As soon as he saw you, the blood drained out of his already pale face.

“No, wait--”

“Hey, babe, did they bring the right wine this time?” A female voice said from inside.

You took off your ring and threw it in his face and called inside the room, “You can have the bastard.” And walked away.

“Wait, please, this isn’t what you think,” Eric said, slithering quickly down the hall to catch you. He grabbed your arm and you wrenched it violently out of his grasp.

“Babe, who’s this?” The woman said. She was human and pretty, you guessed.

“I’m his fiance,” You retorted. “Oh, sorry, ex-fiance. Don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

“What the fuck, Eric?!” She shouted at him. “Are you kidding me?”

“Rachel, it’s not…” He stuttered. “It isn’t…”

Rachel slapped him and pushed past you toward the elevator, not looking back.

“Babe--” He started, turning back toward you.

“Don’t you dare call me ‘babe,’ you son of a bitch. Why? Why would you do this to me? Why would you waste five fucking years of my life?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you--”

“I don’t give a shit what you meant to do! I want an explanation. Was the sex bad? Do you not love me anymore? Are you just the type of person who has to have a side-chick? What? What about this is good for you? What about all this made destroying our relationship worth it?”

He groaned and scratched his head with both hands. “I… It… I can be anything I want to be with those girls, you know? If I say I’m rich, then I’m rich. If I say I’m successful, then I’m successful, and they don’t know better. They don’t know I have a shitty job that I hate. They don’t know that my girlfriend makes twice as much money as me, that she’s popular with people and everyone likes her better than me, even my own fucking family. They don’t know what a fucking loser I am.”

“And that’s my fucking fault?!” You screamed at him. “You know what you could have done instead of ruining a five year relationship? Gotten fucking therapy! Or, better yet, talked to me about it! I have been nothing but supportive of you. I have encouraged you to leave your job and find a better one. I told you I would support you until you found something that made you happy. You could have gone back to school or done and apprenticeship or vocational work, whatever, and I’d have been there! You could do whatever you wanted, and I would have helped you, and you know that!”

“Right, because you so fucking perfect, huh?” He yelled back. “It’s not enough that you rub your perfect job in my face every day and go around spending whatever you want because you don’t have to worry about money, but you also have to be perfectly supportive and perfectly giving and perfectly loving, too, right? How am I supposed to feel good about myself when you’re always better than me at everything?”

“So, it’s my fault you’re cheating on me because I’m a good girlfriend? Is that what you’re saying to me? I’m too fucking nice, so you had to put your dick in random women to feel better about yourself?” You raised your hands as if surrendering and shook your head in disbelief. “You know what? Fucking forget me. Forget our relationship, forget getting married, forget you ever knew me, forget my fucking face, don’t ever come to my house, don’t ever message me again, delete my number from your phone. As far as you’re concerned, I don’t exist to you, because you sure as shit don’t exist to me anymore.” You turned to leave.

“What about my stuff?” He protested.

“Send your brother to come get your shit,” You said without turning. “If you set foot on my property, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. I’m not fucking around. I’m so fucking glad you never moved in when I offered. ”

“So that’s it?” He said as you waited for the elevator to come back up. “You’re not even willing to work this out? It’s just over?”

“Get fucked, Eric,” You said, stepping into the elevator. “Oh wait, you already did. Do yourself a favor and sell that ring to pay for a therapist.” And the door closed on him.

As soon as the elevator started to move, you hit the floor and sobbed. Why? Why was he like this? You thought everything was perfect up until a few months ago, and you hadn’t know he felt like this. He always seemed happy. How were you supposed to know otherwise if he never said anything?

How you got back home, you didn’t know, because you didn’t remember it. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the freezer and didn’t even bother with a glass. For about an hour, you just sat there disheveled on your couch, crying and drinking.

Sometime later, there was a sheepish knock on your door. You hoped to God that it wasn’t Eric, but when you opened the door, Errol was there. Errol, Eric, and their sister Enya, were all from the same clutch of eggs, so he looked a lot like his brother in that they all had white, black, gold scales, golden eyes, cream colored skin, and blond hair. Errol was a bit larger that Eric, and where Eric wore his hair short, Errol kept his long and braided back. You always thought that it made him look elegant, despite his size. He was still wearing his work clothes, as if he’d just come from his construction job.

You and Errol hadn’t spent much time together alone, since Eric was a little jealous of other men. He’d always been very nice to you, though, and liked you just as well as the rest of his family. He’d even given you advice a few times in the past when you and Eric were fighting.

“Can I come in?” He asked, wincing.

“Did you know?” You asked him, your throat raw and hoarse from crying.

“No, I didn’t know,” He said solemnly.

“Don’t bullshit me, Errol,” You replied harshly.

“I swear I didn’t know. I would have told you, I promise. My brother can be an asshole, but I never thought he would do something like this.” Errol grimaced. “Are you okay?”

“Do I fucking look okay?” You retorted, your voice shaking as the tears returned. “If you’ve come to get his stuff, just get it and leave.”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about his stuff, I’m here for you,” Errol said. He held up a couple of plastic bags. “I brought take out and ice cream.”

“I’m not hungry,” You said vaguely, but you moved aside to let him in.

“I got alcohol, too,” He said as he slithered inside. “I could make you a Bailey’s float.”

You sighed and sniffled. “Okay.”

You sat at your table as he bustled around making the drink, laying your tear-flushed face on the cool surface of the wood.

“What did I do wrong?” You asked weepily with your cheek pressed against the table.

“Nothing,” Errol said as he lay the glass in front of you, moving a chair so that he could coil up next to the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why did he do it?” You asked, sitting up and taking a watery bite of the ice cream. “Why wasn’t I enough? He said ‘girls,’ which means there’s probably more than the two I know about. How long has he been doing this? Our whole relationship?”

“When he called me to come over here and get his stuff for him, I asked. I’m not sure if he was telling me the truth, but he said it’s only been the last year.” Errol snorted derisively. “Only.”

“How many girls?” You asked.

He shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me. He kept trying to get me to side with him, but…” Errol rolled his eyes. “I’m not buying anything he says right now.”

“Did he do this to his other girlfriends?”

“Well, you were his first serious girlfriend,” Errol said. “Before you, he only dated casually, so it was never a problem. When he said he really loved you, I thought he meant it.”

“Yeah.” Your lip quivered and you stabbed the spoon into your float. “Me too.”

Errol reached out and pulled you into a tight hug, which you sank into and let loose again, soaking his shirt in tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Errol whispered into your hair.

At some point, Errol put you to bed. You were exhausted and drunk and just wanted to sleep, so he lay you down and left you to it.

When the morning came, you felt like your head had been run over with a truck. You decided to get some coffee going before taking a shower, but to your surprise, Errol was still there. He was in the kitchen on the phone, his hair out of it’s usual braid and tumbling down his shoulders.

“What the hell is wrong with you, dude?” Errol said. You immediately realized he was talking to his brother. “No, I’m not picking up your shit. I don’t care if she burns it all.” He was silent for a moment, and you could hear Eric speaking. “No… No, you’re full of shit. Do you know what a good thing you had? Do you have any idea what I would give to have what you just shit on? …fuck no, I’m not going to talk her into taking you back, are you insane?! Get over yourself… No… No, it’s not happening, you can go fuck yourself right now… Look, I don’t have time for your bullshit right now.”

Errol hung up and turned, startled to realize you were standing there. “Oh, hey,” He said. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” You replied honestly. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yeah, you were in bad shape last night and I didn’t want to leave you alone. I slept on the couch, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine,” You said. “I was just going to make coffee.”

“Oh, I already made some,” He said, going to the coffee pot and pouring you a mugful. “I figured you could use it. I’ve got breakfast coming too, something greasy to absorb all that alcohol.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” You said, sipping the coffee. It was really good, but not your normal brand, though it tasted very familiar. Actually, now that you thought about it, you always drank the gross coffee Eric liked. This was a nice change. “I’m going to take a shower and wash last night off of me. Are you okay here?”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time,” He said, turning to pull down plates and prepare for breakfast.

You were about to turn to the bathroom but stopped. “Errol.”

He looked back up at you. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for… thanks.”

He smiled at you. “It’s no problem at all.”

You took your shower with your head pressed against the tile. Why couldn’t you just forget? Why couldn’t you put all of it out of your mind and stop thinking about it? What would it take to make the pain stop?

The water was cold by the time you got out, and when you went back into the kitchen, the food had arrived and Errol had everything set out on the table. He looked up anxiously when you came in.

“You okay?” He said, concerned. “You were in there for a worryingly long time. I was thinking about going in there if you hadn’t come out in five minutes.”

“I’m fine. Well, not fine, but you know.”

“Yeah,” He said sympathetically. “Try to eat. All you had last night were two bites of ice cream and a lot of alcohol.”

You picked up your fork and speared a sausage. “I must look horrible.”

“Nope, not possible,” He said, tucking into his own plate of food. “A person can look tired and cute at the same time, you know.”

You snorted, prodding your puffy face gently. “You’re too nice. Maybe I should have dated you instead.”

He laughed. “You know, it’s actually kinda funny, I was going to ask you out back in college before you started dating Eric.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah, he kind of sniped you, if I’m being honest.”

“I never knew that,” You said. “Did he know you wanted to ask me out?”

“Oh, yeah, I told him,” He said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. “I told him there was a girl at my college who always went to this one coffee shop near campus, and I told him I was going buy you your favorite coffee and cookies as an icebreaker.”

Your head rocked back. “That’s exactly what he did when he asked me out.”

Errol tsked sardonically. “Yeah. I know.”

You scoffed. “Wow, what an absolute asshole.”

Errol shrugged and smiled. “Ancient history now. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” You said as he filled your cup. “This is really good, what is it?”

“Orange and almond mocha.”

You cocked your head. “Wait… isn’t that the blend I drank at the coffee shop? It used to be my favorite.”

“I know,” He said. “I ordered some. I thought it might be a nice pick-me-up. The shit that Eric drinks is revolting.”

“That’s definitely true,” You said, looking at Errol closely. “You remembered what my favorite coffee blend was from five years ago?”

Errol looked up at you. His face seemed carefully blank.

“Yeah, but I mean, it’s no big deal.” He wiped his mouth and sat back. “I should get going, I have work in a few hours. Are you going to be okay here on your own?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think I’m going to take some personal days.”

Errol nodded.”That’s a good idea. I’ll call later to check on you, okay? If you need anything, just text me.”

“Okay,” You said, feeling a little off-balance.

Errol smiled and let himself out, and you were left standing there, staring after him as an overwhelming sense of realization hit you like a freight train.

…did I date the wrong brother all this time?

Later in the day, Eric called. You almost weren’t going to pick up, but you decided to see what he had to say for himself now that the heat of the moment had passed.

“What do you want?” You said brusquely.

“Why did my brother spend the night at your house last night?” Eric said immediately.

“...excuse me?” You replied, incredulous.

“You heard me. What the fuck was he doing there?”

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

“What do you mean, it’s not my business? He’s my brother and you’re my fiance!”

“Ex-fiance,” You corrected him. “First of all, you are the one who told him to come over in the first place. Secondly, I was not obviously doing well last night and he stayed to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid or die in my sleep of alcohol poisoning. And third, and I cannot stress this enough, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t bullshit me, you know he’s in love with you.”

Your head snapped back in agitation. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you really don’t know? Ms. Perfect doesn’t know that my asshole brother has had a crush on you for years?”

“You’re full of shit, Eric,” You retorted. “Don’t drag Errol into this.”

“Did you just decide to fuck my brother to get back at me, is that it?”

“Fuck you, Eric!” You hung up the phone and hit the floor, a wave of anguish washing you again. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he have to make everything worse?

The phone rang again, and it was Eric. You decided to block him and be done with it. You got a notification from Facebook, and then Twitter, and then Instagram, all from Eric. Every new notification made your anxiety rise higher and higher until you were balled up on the floor, sobbing again. In desperation, she dialed Errol’s number.

“Hello?”

“Please help,” She begged, weeping. “He won’t leave me alone. He keeps messaging me and calling me. I can’t… I can’t do it…”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry,” Errol said. He sounded angry.

“Can you come over? Please?”

“Of course, I’ll be right there.”

“Okay. I’m going to turn off my phone.”

“That’s a good idea,” He said. “If I need to, I can message you on your gaming console.”

“Okay,” You said. “Bye.”

He hung up with you and you turned your phone off, sitting on the floor of your kitchen in the blissful silence, unable to get up.

Was that true? Could it be possible that Errol had been in love with you the whole time you’d been dating Eric? He said he’d wanted to ask you out. He remembered tiny details, like what your favorite coffee had been. He made you your favorite dessert when you were miserable without even having to ask what it was. He stayed overnight to make sure you didn’t get hurt or hurt yourself. He bought breakfast and defended you. He didn’t have to do any of that. He was just your fiance’s brother. Ex-fiance.

He arrived shortly after you called him. As soon as he entered the house, before he had a chance to say anything, you reached up, took his face in your hands, and kissed him. For a second or two, there was no reaction, but then he leaned into the kiss, deepening it, savoring it, before abruptly putting his hands on your shoulders and pushing you back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“...why did you do that?” He asked you, his face grim.

“Eric told me,” You said. “He said you’ve been in love with me the entire time I was dating him. Is that true?”

Errol looked down and away. “Look--”

“You told Eric on the phone that you’d have given anything to have what he had. You meant me, right?”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Errol, look at me!” You shouted.

It seemed to take a lot of will, but Errol’s eyes flicked back up to meet yours. They were pleading with you.

“Do you love me?”

His face scrunched as if he were in pain and he swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t…

“Don’t…lie to me,” You said in a tense whisper, tears spilling from your eyes. “Do you?”

Tears began to gather in his own eyes. His response was barely audible.

“…yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since I first saw you in the coffee shop.”

You tried to press forward to kiss him again, but he held you firm, sniffing. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“But I don’t want to be used to get revenge on my brother,” He whispered back, his voice strangled and uneven. “It’s not good for you and it’s not fair to me. You know that.”

Your face crumpled. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, unable to look at him anymore. “I just don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want him in my head.”

Finally, Errol pulled you into a hug.

“I know,” He said. His body was tense, as if he were restraining himself. “We can revisit this later. Much later.”

“When?” You asked piteously.

“Not now. Not soon. You need time to heal and I… need to think.”

“I’m sorry, Errol,” You cried into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never saw it.”

He laughed slightly. “It’s not your fault. I got really good at hiding it. And Eric always kept you at arms length from me. I think he was afraid I’d steal you away or something.”

He let you go and you stepped away, looking at the ground in shame.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was using you,” You said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He put his hand under his chin and made you look up at him, his thumb stroking your cheek. “For what it’s worth, I’m relieved the secret is out now. Tiptoeing around you and Eric was exhausting. The engagement was my worst nightmare, because it meant I’d have to just suffer in silence forever.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s over for both our sakes, then,” You said, attempting to smile.

He smiled too, but it was very soft. Gentle. “I don’t… think it’s a good idea for us to hang out together much from now on, at least for a while,” He said, letting go. “But… we can text. We can call. If you need anything, I’m always here for you. That’s always been true.”

You nodded. “I know.” You sighed and took another step back. “I’m going to miss you.”

His smile widened sadly. “I’m not far, but… I know what you mean.”

With the both of you in tears, he turned, opened the door, and was gone. Thirty seconds after he left, however, you got a text.

>Are you okay?

You smiled through your tears, feeling glad and grateful that he was still communicating with you. >No. But I think I will be.

>Good.

>Are you okay? You asked in return.

>Honestly, I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. This was a lot at once.

>Yeah, no kidding. I think I may see a therapist to help me out.

>That’s a really good idea. Maybe I should too.

>I think everyone should at least once.

>Yeah. Do you need anything?

>No, I’m okay. Thank you for everything, Errol.

>It’s my pleasure.

Some time passed. You and Errol talked and texted every single day. Neither of you brought up dating each other and carefully avoided affectionate language. He wanted you to heal and you wanted to give him a fair chance without the cloud of his brother hanging over you.

Talking to him was effortless, like talking to yourself. You each had your own tastes and dislikes, but you both loved a lot of the same things and had similar desires. You both loved your jobs, enjoyed the same music, gushed over books you’d read, and liked playing board games. One of your favorite things to do was watch movies remotely over Zoom. It was almost like being on a date, even if you couldn’t be together.

As hard as you tried not to, you compared everything Errol did to Eric. Even still, it was obvious that Errol had always been better suited to you than Eric ever was. It was abundantly clear that you had indeed been dating the wrong brother the entire time.

On what was supposed to be your anniversary with Eric, Errol sent you a link to play a horror game with him. Errol hated anything horror, so instead of spending the day crying and drinking and cursing Eric for being alive, you got to laugh the whole day at how loud Errol screamed when he was startled. It ended up being a wonderful day.

You did see a therapist, as did Errol, and the two of you would talk about your sessions with each other, sharing the advice the counselors had given you. He also sent you gifts through delivery, like the coffee you loved and your favorite treats. Whenever you’d had a bad day or had to deal with Eric due to post-breakup business, a treat would arrive the next day, and it always put a smile on your face.

You were worried that all the time apart might change how Errol felt, but he never wavered. You woke up every day to a text saying good morning, and went to bed after talking to him for at least an hour about your day. After a month, you realized that a day or two would go by when you wouldn’t think of Eric at all. You hadn’t thought that would be possible when you first broke up with Eric, and he did still haunt your thoughts most of the time, but the respite from the emotional distress of thinking of him, even for a short time, was wonderful.

Three months after the breakup and his confession, you, Errol, and your therapists all decided that you were ready to date again. That same day, Errol showed up on your doorstep with flowers. The sight of him was like breathing fresh air after being underwater.

“Hi,” He said, smiling brightly.

“Hi,” You replied, stepping forward to pull him into a hug. He reciprocated without hesitation.

“So…” He said, not letting go. “Do you want to go out with me tonight?”

“Yes,” You said, cuddling him closer.

He pulled back and kissed you for a very long time, tasting your lips and teasing his tongue just inside your mouth. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and just looked at your face, touching your cheeks with his fingertips. Eventually he stepped back.

“Let’s go.”

Dating him was amazing. He knew everything there was to know about you, so he took you to places you loved, to all your favorite restaurants, to concerts he knew you’d enjoy. It was like you’d been dating for years already, even though it was just a few weeks. You made out like teenagers, hot and heavy, but he was careful about being intimate too quickly, though, still fearful about being a rebound. You respected that.

You were already talking about the future, though. You both wanted to get married eventually and to be parents before you turned thirty. Before breaking up, you had been talking about having kids with Eric, which was something he had expressed interest in during the start of your relationship, but recently he had been making excuses, like he didn’t have enough in savings or he didn’t feel ready. You guessed you knew why now.

You were worried that his family would be angry with you for ending your relationship with Eric and dating Errol, but they seemed completely understanding. It was likely they were also aware that Errol had been in love with you forever, and the fact that Eric cheated on you wasn’t something they were proud of. You were still warmly invited to all the family gatherings with Errol, and while having Eric there was a little awkward, his seething anger at seeing you happy with Errol was the best revenge you could have asked for.

“They let everyone in the office have the day off. Do you want to hang out today?” You asked Errol one night after about a month and a half of dating.

“Ordinarily I’d love to, but I’m feeling kinda weird today. Squishy. I think I’m going to have my period soon.”

He wasn’t being hyperbolic; nagas with male sex organs both created the eggs and fertilized them, but they didn’t have a womb or cavity in their bodies where the eggs could incubate, which is why they needed people with uteruses to propagate the species. It took a month for the eggs to develop inside them, but after that, they could implant them into another person’s body at any time they chose. However, after a year, the eggs died naturally and were expelled from their bodies, therefore, male nagas experienced periods once a year. Eric usually went to a specialized facility where the eggs would be humanely disposed of.

“Are you sure? Isn’t it rather soon for that.”

“I went into heat last week. The eggs usually die quickly after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” You said. “Why did you go into heat? That typically only happens when nagas in a sexual relationship with someone, right?”

“That, and if you’re experiencing extreme sexual needs that aren’t being met.”

“Oh. Ohhh…” You hissed in a breath. “Is it because of me?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” He reassured you. “It’s my problem. I’ll take care of it.”

You were silent for a moment of deep contemplation. He seemed to sense you were thinking about something.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“Do you think the eggs are still viable?”

It was his turn to be silent. “Um… maybe. Probably. I think it’ll be another week before I need to go in to evacuate them. Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking…” You said slowly. “We both said we wanted kids. And I know we’re just starting out, and this is super sudden, and it probably doesn’t even make sense to do this now, and we haven’t even had sex yet, but… oh, god, I’m rambling…” You sighed heavily. “If you’d like, we can wait until next year when we’ve been together for longer, but… it just seems like this is a good opportunity. It… feels right, you know what I mean? If that’s what you want.”

He took another moment of silence to think really hard about what you were saying. “Are you sure about this, honey?” He asked you finally.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” You said resolutely. “I love you, and I’m in a good place, both emotionally and financially. I’m ready to be a mom. I have been for years.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt anxiously. “Is this something you want? I mean… I totally understand if it isn’t. If you want to wait, that’s fine with me. I just… I want to do this.”

His voice turned sultry. “You really want my eggs?”

You grinned and bit your lip. You’d learned through hints in conversations you had with him that he had a little bit of a breeding and pregnancy kink.

“Yeah. But we should act fast if we want them to take.”

“I’ll be right over,” He said, and the phone clicked.

You immediately went into the bathroom to get ready, feeling nervous. There was a weight of expectation on you, not just because you were talking about getting pregnant, but also because of how long Errol had wanted to be with you. You were scared that you wouldn’t live up to his expectation.

He arrived shortly after, looking excited and nervous. You pulled him into your arms and kissed him. He was shaking.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He said, touching your face reverently. “I’ve just… I’ve been dreaming of this for so long. I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”

You smiled softly at him. “Come on.” You took him by the hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. He took a deep, shaky breath and followed.

Once in the room, he pulled you in and kissed you again, deeper this time, more probing, his body pressed flush against yours.

“I’m not sure how to… begin…” He said. “I don’t know what you like and don’t like yet.”

“We can learn as we go,” You said. “We don’t have to rush.”

“Well, what do you like? Do you have any kinks I should know about?”

You laughed. “I have a few, I guess.”

“Tell me about one,” He said.

Instead of telling, you knelt down and sat on your knees with your butt resting on your feet, perched forward on your hands, and looked up at him through your lashes.

“What would you like me to do for you?” You asked, biting your lip.

His eyebrows rose and a startled smile spread across his face. “Oh,” He said. Slowly, he took off his long shirt, exposing his torso and the slit on his lower abdomen, usually closed and imperceptible from his scales, but now swollen and puckered slightly. He ran his fingers through your hair where you were crouched on the floor and came close, so that his slit was near your face.

“Touch it for me, sweetie,” He said.

Gently, you circled one finger around the slit, feeling it pulse under your touch. He exhaled sharply and his head fell back, his braid swinging. With your forefinger and middle finger, you stroked it up and down, watching it open slowly. You leaned forward and kissed it, and he spasmed, groaning.

Gradually, two dicks emerged from his slit, a long, thin one with a spear-like head, and a shorter, thick one with a bulbous head. You knew each had a different purpose. Normally, the thin one would be retracted so that nagas could just enjoy sex, but the thin one was an ovipositor. It’s what implanted the eggs. You knew not to touch it, since it secreted a numbing agent that made implanting the eggs easier.

“Now?” You asked.

“Not yet,” He said. “You’re not ready yet. Stand up.”

You obeyed, and he began to undress you. You started to help, but he said, “No, no, let me do it.”

You put your arms back down and let him peel your clothes off. And then he just looked at you.

“Stand still,” He said. “Stay quiet.”

You nodded, obeying.

“Good girl,” He whispered. “That’s my good girl.”

He started with your shoulders, letting his fingers run over your skin, down your arms, up your sides, caressing your breasts, down your belly, and reached one hand between your legs. You gasped.

“Shh,” He said. “Stay silent.”

It was a hard order to follow, as he touched your pearl and massaged it slowly, running a finger inside your slit as he did. Your breathing was uneven and you had to bite a finger, but you managed to be quiet.

“You can make all the noise you want soon,” He promised seductively. “I just want to test how good you can be for me.”

You nodded again, your body shivering at his touch.

He brought his face very close to yours, so that your lips were mere millimeters apart, but stopped short of actually kissing you. You could feel his cool breath on your neck and chest, and it made your heart race.

“You’re getting there,” He said, pushing a finger inside your entrance. You inhaled, but bit down on your cheek to stay silent.

“Good girl,” He said, pulling his finger out. "Lay face down on the bed and lift your ass up. Spread your legs open.”

You nodded again and followed his orders, doing exactly what he asked of you. He slithered up behind you and went back to touching between your legs with one hand, the other sliding up and down your spine. You felt him sink down and kiss your thighs.

“You can moan for me, darling,” He said.

You were happy to obey, and whimpered against your pillow as he licked a long stripe from behind, kneading your buttocks as he did. He moaned as he sucked on you, your legs shaking. He pressed his thumb into you as he sucked, and you thought you were going to cum. He stopped just before that happened, leaving you feeling desperate.

“Good,” He said. “You’re perfect.” He crawled over you from the back so that his face was next to yours and he kissed you. “Are you still sure about this? We can just have sex, I don’t have to breed you.”

“You want to, don’t you?”

“Don’t worry about what I want right now, are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yes,” You simpered. “I want it. Give them to me. Please. I want them.”

He bit his lip, looked at you like you were something he wanted to eat, and grinned. “Good girl.” He went out of view then, and you felt his hands on your hips.

“Be still,” He said. “Let me in.”

You nodded, and felt the slim tube enter your body. The anesthetic began working immediately, so you only had a vague sensation of it pushing all the way in, penetrating your womb, and fixing itself there.

“Are you hurting, love?” He asked as he lay over you, putting his arm under your head so that you could lay on it and resting his body on top of you. Your hips were still in the air and your stomach wasn’t touching the bed.

“No, I’m okay,” You replied.

“Good,” He said, sounding a bit strained, his body tensing. His stuttering breath blew through your hair. “It’s starting.”

He grunted, but you couldn’t tell if it was in pleasure or pain. His breathing was sharp and punctuated as the egg moved down through the ovipositor and into you. You could feel a small swell in your stomach, but it wasn’t painful. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder and relaxed and shuddered, gasping.

“Did it hurt?” You asked.

“Not exactly,” He replied a little breathlessly. “It feels good, but it’s also a bit of work to push it out. Sorry this isn’t as sexy as you might have hoped.”

“Who said it wasn’t?” You replied, nuzzling him. “It’s like a special kind of foreplay. Besides, I’m really enjoying all the sounds that are coming out of you.”

“I can feel that,” He said, laughing. “You keep squeezing me.” He tensed again and started grunting, hugging you tightly.

“You’re doing great,” You told him.

“This is… harder than I thought it would be,” He said stiltedly. You could feel the sweat from his brow dripping on your skin.

“You can do it,” You said, kissing his arm as it gripped you and biting his thumb. “How many do you think there are?”

“I think three,” He said. He exhaled forcefully, and you felt another swell slip into you as he panted.

“One more, honey,” You said. “Deep breaths.”

He snickered, and then groaned. “Okay…” He said. He gripped you hard as the last one came and passed through. You were beginning to feel a full sensation in your belly and felt glad this was the last one.

Once it was out, the ovipositor retracted and he flopped onto the bed, gasping like a fish.

“Whoa,” He said. “Laying them in a person is way different than disposing of them.”

“How so?” You asked, moving to lie on your side so that you could touch him. He was clammy and cold.

“That felt great,” He said, looking over at you and smiling. “Like, it hurt a bit, but it felt like a small orgasm every time.”

“Probably a biological incentive to procreate,” You said, kissing his chest and neck.

He snorted. “Probably.” He looked at you with his eyes half lidded. “It’s going to be a few minutes until you get the feeling back down there. Why don’t you spend some time and play with me?”

“Is that an order?” You asked.

“Do you want me to punish you?” He asked.

“Maybe I’ll like it,” You said with a smirk.

He took you by the chin and made you look down at the second, larger cock, which was still erect and bobbing. “Touch me.”

You went down and sat astride his tail so that he could watch you take his cock in your hand, and begin to slowly pump it up and down.

“Hmm, that’s good,” He said with a satisfied sigh. “Let me know when your feeling comes back. We don’t want to waste time.”

“I will,” You said, stroking him. Your stomach felt tight, so you rubbed it as you touched him, drawing his eye. He watched you hungrily.

“I can’t believe you did that,” He said, smiling at you.

“We’re only half-way there,” You told him. “Don’t get too excited.”

He bucked his tail and nearly knocked you over onto the bed, making you shriek and laugh.

After a few minutes of teasing and touching and good-natured laughter, the feeling began to return. You started rocking on his tail to be sure, and realized that you were extremely sensitive.

“It’s back?” He asked

You nodded, pleasuring yourself against his body.

“Good. Lay down.”

You obeyed, and he moved to lay on top of you, his tail between your legs and his slit lining up with yours, kissing you deeply and rolling your nipples in his fingers. He pushed himself inside you as he kissed you, careful not to go too deep, as the ovipositor had made you a little sore. You rolled your body against his in time with his thrusts. You were so sensitive that you could already feel the crest of ecstasy beginning to wash over you.

“I love you so much,” He whispered against your skin. “I’m so happy.”

“I love you,” You replied, your hands in his hair as he moved inside you with purpose, precision. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

He stopped immediately, and you groaned shrilly, the sensation of denial sending a shiver up your back.

“Not yet,” He said, biting your lower lip. “Not until I say. Be a good girl.”

You nodded, panting and trembling, but your body was betraying you, writhing desperately against him, trying to regain the friction.

“Be still,” He said. “I’m not going to move again until you be still.”

You squealed in need, but you did your best to make your body stop clutching at him. It took a minute, but you managed to settle down.

“Good,” He said, slowly moving inside you again. “Good girl.”

“Cum inside me,” You begged. “Please.”

“I will,” He said, kissing you. “When I want to. Be patient and I’ll reward you.”

Your body was wound so tightly that you thought you were going to explode, practically vibrating underneath him. The sight of it made him grin.

“You’re so beautiful,” He said, licking your earlobe, still keeping the maddeningly slow pace. “Do you want it that bad?”

“Yes!” You groaned. “Yes, please. Errol, please.”

He thrust sharply, but not hard, and you nearly came undone. You cried out, about to snap like a string.

“Are you always going to be a good girl for me?” He whispered sinfully.

“Yes!”

“Do you promise me?”

“Yes!”

“Say it. Say ‘I promise.’”

“I promise, I promise, please!”

His thrusts became targeted again. “Beg me some more.”

“Errol, please! Please let me cum, please!” You cried. Every muscle, every nerve in your body was screaming for release.

“You can cum when I tell you to,” He said, though his movements were extremely efficient now. He was very good at drawing this out.

“I can’t take it, please!” You begged.

“One more time, say you love me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I love you! I love you so much! Please!”

From there, he wasted no time, slamming himself into you with speed. In no time at all, you were a screaming, shaking mess underneath him, thanking him over and over. The tension in his body and the sudden shout and moaning from him told you that he had reached his peak too.

“Not yet,” He gasped, rearing up. “I’m not done yet.”

He had leaned up so that he could look down at you and put his hand on your stomach, feeling the new hardness there. He kept going, pistoning against your body, snapping his hips against you, and rode the wave for a second time, all focus and concentration.

The both of you came one final time before he collapsed on the bed beside you, sucking in air as hard as you were. For a few minutes, all you could do was breathe.

After some time, he left the bed and went into the bathroom, and you heard the water in the tub running. You were barely conscious when he came back and lifted you out of the bed, taking you into the bathroom, and lay you down in the warm water of the bath. You were so tired and boneless that you could hardly raise your head, so he carefully, lovingly washed your body, paying special attention to your belly.

“Are you alive?” He asked after some time of sitting next to the tub, watching you drift in and out.

“I think so,” You replied, opening your eyes to smile sleepily at him. “Do you think they took?”

“We won’t know for a while. You should take it easy until then.” He smoothed the hair away from your face and stroked your cheek. “You’re going to have my babies,” He said, laughing a little.

“I hope so,” You said, taking his hand and kissing the palm.

“Eric is going to be pissed,” Errol said, snickering.

You snorted. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about him once today. This isn’t about him.”

Errol kissed you. “You’re right. It isn’t. It’s about us.” He lay his hand on your stomach and smiled gently. “All of us.”

Only one of the eggs took, but that was okay. Errol’s parents were overjoyed to learn they’d be getting a grandchild. Both you and Errol decided Eric could learn it on Facebook, like all the other strangers and acquaintances in your lives.

You took maternity leave so that you could pass your gestational time in relative peace. Errol fussed over you, making sure you ate properly and went with you to all your appointments. You made the decision to lay the egg at home instead of the hospital, and Errol’s sister acted as the midwife. It was the toughest work you’d ever done, and Errol was the best cheerleader you could have asked for.

Errol took paternity leave, like you had done, since he couldn’t leave the egg, anyway. He incubated the egg for the rest of the gestation period, curled up around it day and night. Errol’s son, Ewan, was born six months after being conceived, and within another year, you and Errol were married.

You often wondered if things had been different, if you had dated Errol from the beginning instead of Eric, if you’d be as overjoyed as you were at the moment. But then you figured that wondering about what ifs was a waste of time. You had a happy family to look after now, after all, and another clutch on the way. There was no time to worry about the past. The future was right in front of you.

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Thanks for reading!

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The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Naga #Cheating #Angst #Hurt/Comfort

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sazandorable · 5 years ago

Text

About moderating and banning content on AO3!

Okay so! I haven’t had the spoons to do this for a while but I cracked and ranted about it on twitter which is... not... conducive to long rants, so!

This is a h u g e discussion part of the l o n g history that led to the creation of AO3, which older, more informed, and more articulate people have talked about at length and can be found around if you look (I reblog some of it in my AO3 and fandom history tags for the curious). So I won’t go into that here, nor into the practical reasons why it’s not even possible to put that system in place anyway.

Arbitrarily, or the purpose of this post, because it’s the biggest topic I’ve seen brought up lately, I’ll be talking about fic depicting underage characters in se*ual situations, but honestly I could hold the exact same conversation on literally any controversial content.

This is about why you, specifically, if you are a content creator and especially if you are marginalised and especially if you are queer and especially especially if you are sensitive to fiction depicting certain things... do not, actually, want a banning system on AO3.

What? Of course we do. There’s a lot of p*do shit on AO3 and p*do shit is gross. No one should condone that, wtf? It would be easy to do — just periodically delete the entire Underage tag!

What will happen if that is done is that people will re-upload and continue to write it, they’ll just stop tagging and you will run into it with zero warning nor ability to filter it out. Again, this is not a theoretical — we know this is what happens. When I was a teen, adult content (all adult content) was not allowed on FF.NET; it was everywhere regardless, and without tags. The exact same thing happened on tumblr when adult content was banned as well. It’s not a matter of “staff not handling it well” — it just doesn’t work.

To keep safe the people who need to be able to exclude that tag, that tag needs to exist and be used.

Well, shucks. A reporting system then?

A reporting system would operate in one of two ways:

-an algorithm, which would delete a lot of stuff we wouldn’t want it to delete.

-humans, which is... the bigger problem.

An algorithm sounds great. We do want it to delete everything.

Okay. What about the daddy k*nk fics between consenting adult characters? What about the fics featuring characters that are children in the canon but are adults in the fic? What about the fics about teenagers exploring their se*uality together, written by adults about the experiences they remember having or wish they could have had? What about the thousands of SasuNaru and Drarry and other shounen and YA fics that will get written, by teens or by people who remember being teens? What about the se*ually explicit fic written by teens who are se*ually active in real life? What about the fics about CSA as trauma, about healing from it? What about the fics written by survivors of CSA to cope about their trauma? What about the fics that clearly show that it’s evil and traumatic? What about the super dark, harrowing, but beautiful and artistic that I’m glad I read even though it fucked me up for days? What about the ones that were really shitty but also horribly hot?

Well, some of these are still not okay, but maybe some might be. It depends on how it’s written. We’ll have humans moderating content and deciding, then.

Okay.

The thing is, I don’t know which of the things I just listed were okay for you to be depicted in fiction and which were too much. Odds are I don’t agree with you. Odds are if I asked 10 people randomly picked off the street, not everyone would agree.

Odds are, even if AO3 arbitrarily decided on which of those are allowed and which are not, you would not agree with their choice, and you would still be unhappy with the decision. (Or you would be happy, but your friends wouldn’t.)

Odds are, different AO3 content moderators might not agree on whether a given fic qualifies or not — is it artistic enough? Does it show enough that these actions are evil and wrong? Can the author prove they’re a teenager? Can the author prove they are a CSA victim? Can the author prove that this is to help them cope with their trauma? The author seem to be functioning alright, they mustn’t really be traumatised!

You know what I mean! There’s absolute, objectively gross shit out there that is not artistic and should not be published.

I agree that there’s vile stuff out there that makes me sick and that I think is very clearly just ped*philic trash. But there is no way to, 1) stop those from getting published anyway, 2) take those down and preserve the safety of everything else.

If we start forbidding some things, there’s two ways to go about it.

One single, clear, arbitrary rule — for instance, absolutely no adult content featuring characters under 18 (leaving aside the fact that this would not even work for the reason cited above). So we lose all the stuff from teenagers, all the coming of age stories about adolescence, all the stuff from CSA survivors; people who need to write it can’t publish it anymore, and people who need to read it can’t anymore either (and as a cool bonus, they’re told it’s wrong and made to feel bad about it). Depending on whether the rules applies to characters that are under 18 in the canon, we lose entire fandoms.

Or, subjective moderation by humans, according to what they estimate to be gross.

Let’s assume all moderators can agree on what’s gross or not.

If there is a system in place to ban some underage works because “gross shit”, then that means other gross stuff can be taken down on account of being gross and harmful.

Yeah! Gross stuff should be taken down! Come on, surely everyone agrees on what’s gross and harmful.

Ah.

But the problem is.

Here is a list of things I have seen — with my eyes seen — called harmful to be depicted in fiction:

Murder

Non-con

Inc*st

Cannibalism

Torture

Self-harm

Mental illness

Drugs

Racism

K*nk

Non-negotiated k*nk, but healthy k*nk is ok

Spanking k*nk

BDSM where the woman is a bottom, but woman top is ok

Healthy depictions of BDSM

Unhealthy depictions of BDSM

Queer people doing bad things

Abusive relationships

Rival/Enemies to lovers

Redemption stories

A happy relationship between a 17 yo and an 18 yo

A happy relationship between a 20 yo and a 60 yo

A happy relationship between a boss and their employee, or a college teacher and a student

A happy relationship between a 14 yo boy and an older teenage boy, because that’s reminiscent of older men preying on younger gay boys IRL

Se*ual content featuring a character whose age is unclear in canon and some people headcanon them as being underage, some as being a young adult

Loving, consensual fluff between characters that are evil villains, because it romanticises them and their actions

Dark content shipping female characters

Fluffy content shipping female characters, because it’s misogynistic to act like lesbians are only soft all the time

Consensual s*x featuring a canonically asexual character, because it implies that all aces can and should still have se*

Fics about the same canonically asexual character hating s*x, because that erases the experience of s*x-positive aces

Shipping a character who is perceived by some fans as queer-coded with a character of a different s*x

The tendency to ship a black character with white characters

Fluffy drunk s*x, because that’s not actually consensual

Sleep s*x, because that’s not actually consensual

Trans characters not experiencing dysphoria, because that idealises the trans experience

Consensual s*x between adults that are not married

LGBT+ content, because kids shouldn’t see that.

I guarantee you: you, I, and 10 random people plucked from the street will not agree on what, in that list, is and isn’t okay to publish and consume fiction of.

So why should your taste be the one followed? Why should it be the taste of mods you don’t know? Why should anyone get to dictate? What if the mods think your OTP is gross and your NOTP is fine?

This is the slippery slope argument.

Yes, it is the slippery slope argument. Because we know it happens. Because we’ve been there, because I’ve seen it happen myself twice already and I’m not even thirty. Because we know people do complain loudly about all of these things.

And because the second there is a banning system in place, assholes will use the system to abuse it and get stuff they just don’t like taken down using the “it is gross” argument, and one day you’ll wake up and the beautiful fic that helped you come to terms with your abuse/trauma/identity/orientation/k*nk for feet will be taken down and wonderful vulnerable creative people will have been harassed out of fandom because they argued with 1 person who didn’t like their foot k*nk fic that happened to also feature, for instance, a CSA trauma backstory.

Again: not exaggerating. Not theoretical. It happens, we know it happens, AO3 was created literally because it happens.

I still fucking hate that stuff.

That is completely fine and normal. No one likes everything. Me too! Most of the dark stuff is niche and the creators know only few people will like it the same way they do.

(For the record, I get grossed out and triggered by fics about an asexual character who does not like s*x having s*x with their partner to make them happy. Deep in my gut everything screams that that’s fucked up, terrifying and harmful, how can people write that. But I recognise that there are people who love and need that, and I leave those people and their content alone.

OTOH, I read a lot of otherwise dark shit and I enjoy it in the same way I enjoyed, say, Hannibal, in the same way some people enjoy true crime documentaries, horror movies or r*pe fantasy k*nk. It helps me explore stuff that I like to see in fiction, in a safe, controlled way. I’m also asexual, 90% s*x-repulsed IRL, and, obviously, I would never abuse a child. For that matter, I wouldn’t kill and eat people, either, nor would I do 90% of the tamer k*nky stuff I read.

Of course, Hannibal was fucked up and lots of people probably think Hannibal was gross and should not have been aired — but as exemplified by the fact that it was created, aired and watched, lots of people thought it was fine, interesting and even fun to watch.)

You can and should curate your experience and protect yourself. The AO3 website now allows you to exclude certain tags, and people have developed tools to help with that such as plugins that save your filters or hide fics that contain certain words.

But no, it isn’t going to, and it shouldn’t, get banned.

#ao3 #fandom history #aaaaand that's all im going to tag

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lazywitchling · 3 years ago

Text

Alright friends, buckle up, pretty sure this is going to be a long one.

Let me start off by saying that I am about to bring up a problem to which I have no solution. I will say what I think we shouldn't do, but I don't know what we should do instead. Someone smarter than me will have to cover that one.

Anyway, all this is regarding this post I made this morning after seeing yet another one of those asks floating around Tumblr. "What do you think of [website]?"

(Actually I'm going to toss this under a cut because it's WAY longer than I meant it to be, but I still think it's important to say)

It seems like a harmless ask. It usually comes with an explanation as to why there's something interesting there at that URL. Maybe not correct or good, but certainly interesting. Just enough to make you curious to go check the website. It's even in the phrasing of the question! They're not telling you they're good or bad, they're just asking what you think. That's harmless... right?

Yeah, no, it's definitely nazis. Not "nazis" as in "uhhh everything I don't like on the internet is nazi", it's nazis as in full-blown anti-Semitism, reptillian-people-control-the-banks... it's gross. I looked up what they're about just so I could tell you, and it's gross. 0/10, do not recommend.

Anyway, here on Tumblr, they send these asks out to various blogs. And over the past couple weeks, I've seen an increasing number of these asks published on my dashboard.

Now, every time I have seen them, the person publishing it has absolutely called it out for being what it is. They'll go into detail about why it's filth, or they'll go for the short-and-not-sweet "Fuck off, you nazi piece of shit". Every time I've seen the ask, it's been refuted.

But I've seen the ask. A lot.

Now... why is that a problem? Why is it a problem to publish the ask and call it out for what it is? Isn't it better for your followers to know what it is so they don't get taken in by it?

Let me tell you two stories.

1. The Cheeseburger

So yesterday for dinner I had a cheeseburger from... the Large Burger Chain (you know the one). Earlier in the day, I had read a post here on Tumblr about a lawsuit involving this Large Burger Chain, in which they had done a shitty thing. It was a funny story, where we got to laugh at the Large Burger Chain for being greedy and awful. "Look how awful those people at Large Burger Chain are. Aren't they the worst?"

So why did I go get a cheeseburger from them? Well, 'cause for the rest of the day, I kept thinking "Damn, a cheeseburger sounds delicious right now." It managed to weasel its way into my brain, and I couldn't stop thinking about cheeseburgers. And of course, that one cheeseburger place stands out in my mind. Until eventually, when out for a drive with Dad, he asked if I wanted anything in particular for dinner, and I said I had a craving for a cheeseburger from Large Burger Chain (It was Burger King).

Now why did I go there after having read about the shitty lawsuit?

Here's the thing about advertising. They know they can't sell you a cheeseburger from one advertisement. One commercial on TV does not make you go "I will now go get a cheeseburger from Large Burger Chain!" It doesn't work that way. But they want to be sure that when you DO want a cheeseburger eventually... they are the one you think of. They want to be the first place you think of.

Let me ask you something. How did you react when I said the name of Large Burger Chain? Because I said it up there in the strikeout. You might not have had a fully thought-out reaction, but I bet you had an instinctive moment where you either thought "I KNEW it was Burger King", or "Oh, I thought it was McDonalds."

Why did you think of the place you thought of? Is it because you like that one better? Is it because there's one down the road from your house that you pass all the time? Did you recently see a commercial for that one? This is a rhetorical question that probably doesn't have a specific answer. But somehow, for some reason or for many reasons, one of those burger places has made it's way into your head and is now the first place you think of when you hear "Large Burger Chain". One place stands out in your mind as The Fast Food Place With The Burgers. Even if you don't like either place, you've heard them advertised enough that they've got into your head.

You seeing where I'm going with this?

The more these asks show up on my dashboard, the more it gets into my head. I, knowing full well what that site is about, have wondered more than once "Hey, I've never actually looked at that website. What does it look like?" or "What is actually on there?" or "I want to go look at how bad it really is."

I can't name off the people who have received and published the ask. I didn't pay that much attention. Each time I saw it was insignificant at the time. But I've seen the website often enough that I can name its exact URL without ever having intentionally memorized it.

BUT JES, you say, WHY IS THAT A PROBLEM? If you KNOW the site is garbage, and you CALL it garbage, then no one is going to get taken in by it, right??

2. The Price Tags

So, I'm a cheesemonger. My job is to sell things to people. I've been in this business for nearly a decade, I've got certifications you probably don't even know exist. I am trained and paid to know how to get you to buy shit.

It's gross and I hate it and I don't use those skills if I can help it, but I have them.

But there's one very very easy tactic that I do use in my cheese department. It's very easy, takes no effort on my part, and it's really effective.

Every price tag is on the back of the piece of cheese.

These are cheeses that are cut to variable weights, with a certain price per pound. Because these cheeses are cut individually, they are priced individually. Smaller ones, bigger ones, whatever you need. Now, the thing is... if you are browsing my cheese wall looking for something interesting, you are going to see cheese, you are going to see names, you are going to see types. You are not going to see prices. If you want to see the price, which is on the back, you know what you have to do?

You have to pick it up.

I have now got the piece of cheese into your hands. And that's one step closer to it being in your cart.

It's not 100%. It's not even 50%. The majority of people who pick up a piece of cheese on a whim to check the price will then put it back down. But not all of them. A lot of people will pick it up, just to check, just to satisfy their curiosity. That one sounds odd, I wonder how much it is? And then it's in their hands, and they shrug, and they toss it into the cart. Because why not?

So WTF does this have to do with anything?

Look, it's a lot of fun to digitally punch a nazi. They come into our ask boxes, and it's so tempting to take a verbal (textual?) swing at them. But the goal is to get their name out there into the ether. It's to put that name in front of all your blog's followers, as many times as possible. Maybe you refute the ask and someone who has never heard of them before now knows who they are. OR maybe this is the fifth time they've seen it on their dash this week, and now they're curious. This group wants to make sure that you know their name off the top of your head, the way you know the name of that Large Burger Chain. And if they can get you to their site, even if it's just to satisfy your morbid curiosity, even if it's just to see how bad it really is, then they've got the piece of cheese in your hands. And yeah, maybe most people put it back. But sometimes it winds up in the cart.

So... what do I do?

Don't feed the trolls. Starve them. Block the anon. Delete the ask. Move on with your day.

As for how to teach people about these assholes? -shrug- That's where you have to ask someone smarter than me. I don't know how to educate people on this stuff without exposing them to it, but my instinct is to not let them control the conversation. Beyond that, you're probably best off listening to the people these groups hate. Find Jewish voices explaining what's so harmful about these people, and boost their voices instead.

Anyway.

That was a tome. Thanks for reading. Don't feel bad if you've ever published an ask they sent you. Individually posted, they don't have a whole lot of power. It's when it becomes a trend that it becomes a problem.

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littledrummeraussie · 4 years ago

Note

Omg you’re doing requests with the prompts 🥺 if so, could it be Angst 24 & 36. Fluff 50 & 40 . If not feel free to ignore this! I’m just curious to see what you’ll do with them! ❤️

Thank you sweetie for the prompts! I hope you don’t mind me making this into a part of my on-going mini series! And since many of you wanted to see what is the relationship between these two - well, here’s a little taste. ❤️

Warnings: mentions of abuse in a past relationship. angst.

Also, you can still drop me prompts if you feel like it.

- - - - -

glitter & crimson masterlist | story tag | part 1 | part 2

- - - - -

ANGST – 24. “Let me go.”

ANGST – 36. “They warned me about this.” “About what?” “You.”

FLUFF – 40. “Why are you scared of loving?”

FLUFF – 50. “Stay.”

- - - - -

“Stay.”

Ashton’s eyes were still closed as he mumbled against the pillow, but his arm around you tightened just a little, letting you know that he did wake when you wanted to get out of his embrace. He fell asleep once the painkillers kicked in, but not before he curled a tattooed arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body while keeping some space between the two of you. Your sleep was fitful, dreams and memories keeping you awake while he slumbered next to you, and after a few hours you couldn’t stay in bed, wanting to find something else to focus on until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

“Didn’t want to wake you,” you sighed, settling back against your pillow and lightly brushing a stray curl away from his forehead.

“You’re a terrible sleeper,” Ashton finally opened his eyes, sleepy gaze finding yours in the grey of the room.

“It’s just… my head is full. Can’t switch it off.”

“What’s keeping you awake?” he mirrored your movements, slowly stroking the hair behind your ear, fingers cupping your cheek.

“They warned me about this,” you whispered, hand covering his bruised one on your face.

“About what?” Ashton furrowed his eyebrows and you let out another quiet sigh.

“You.”

The last hour had been a blur as you pulled clothes out of drawers and closets, throwing everything you could fit into the bags on the bed. You didn’t dare look into the mirror, not after what happened in the kitchen with your boyfriend. The loud banging of the closing door let you know that he left the house and that’s when you found yourself in your shared bedroom, packing everything that belonged to you. Tonight was the last straw and you couldn’t stay for another minute if you didn’t have to.

You let your eyes wander over the place one last time as you shut the front door, throwing the key into the mailbox – you knew you’re never coming back again. You hauled up your bags and started to walk down the street, the tears freely running down your cheeks as you left everything behind. You had nowhere to go; all your friends lived on the other side of the country, and you kicked the curb as you scolded yourself – your own foolish choices made you end up in this situation, and now you had nothing.

“Hey, you’re okay there?”

The guy you just passed stopped in his track and turned after you, his voice soft but questioning as you picked up the pace. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. You didn’t want anyone to see the mess you were now. A mumbled ‘I’m fine’ left your lips, pulling your jacket tighter, hoping he will get your message loud and clear.

A moment passed then you heard footstep coming after you, the heavy boots thumping on the pavement as he quickly caught up with you, fingers curling around your arm and pulling you back to him.

“Let me go,” your voice sounded more panicked than protesting, and at that he finally pulled away.

“I’m sorry, I just– what happened to your face?”

You felt fresh tears streaming down your face as he tilted your chin up towards him, examining you in the light of the streetlamp. He looked handsome and dangerous but soft around the edges as he took in the purpling bruise on your cheek and the split on your bottom lip, gaze turning concerned as his eyes finally found yours.

“Who did this to you?” he let go of you when he saw how disturbed you are and you wrapped your arms around your chest, hiccupping and brushing away your tears.

“Boyfriend… I mean, ex boyfr– I don’t know who he is, not anymore.”

“Do you have anywhere to stay? I could drop you off, I see you packed everything,” he nodded towards your bags, but you quickly shook your head.

“Thanks, but… I’m sure you have better things to do. And I don’t want to be rude, but you’re a stranger – who knows what you’re capable of…” you took a step back and he let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Good point. But you look like someone who needs a bit of a company and a place to stay, away from that asshole. I have a friend who could take you in for a little time, even though you are just as much a stranger as I am.”

“And why would you do that? There’s no way you don’t want something in return,” you winced as you bit into your bottom lip.

“I don’t know, I just can’t let you stay out like this in this state,” he groaned, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s my conscious or something. Like if I go away now and you spend the night on the streets and something happens…”

“God, you’re so weird,” you sighed, hauling up your bag on your shoulder. “I’m gonna regret saying yes to you.”

“You won’t, I promise,” he reached for your other bag to sling it over his back, holding his hand out for you. “By the way, I’m Ashton.”

“Y/N,” you let him shake your hand before he nodded down the road.

“Nice to meet you. My car is parked just there, if you would be so kind and follow me.”

“And where are you taking me?” you trailed after him, still not sure if you were doing the right thing.

“Somewhere safe,” Ashton gave you an encouraging smile, and you felt your lips pull at the corners when he threw you a wink.

“What stray did you bring here again?” the girl was gorgeous and definitely pissed as Ashton ushered you into the apartment.

“Come on Mali, be nice,” he scoffed, putting your bag down in the hallway. “She needs a place to stay, just for a little while.”

“What about your place?” she quirked an eyebrow at Ashton, hands on her hips. “Or did you forget your latest one there and you don’t want them to meet each other?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… gonna take a minute,” he gave you an apologetic look before he pulled Mali into another room and started to ramble in a hushed voice.

You could barely make out his words, but you caught a few of them anyway – ex-boyfriend, bruises, abuse. Mali kept mostly quiet, hissing whenever Ashton’s voice got louder. They were going back and forth for a few minutes before finally they came back, and he curled an arm around your shoulder.

“You can stay with Mali as long as you need it,” he lightly squeezed your arm, giving a pointed look to the blonde who just rolled her eyes. “And I will stop by tomorrow to check on you. How does that sound?”

“Like something she’s not excited about,” you nodded towards the girl who at that started laughing.

“Get out of here, Irwin,” he shooed Ashton away from you and out of the door. “I’ll take care of her. You go and fuck up someone else’s life now, okay?”

“Love you Mali, you’re the best!” he threw her a kiss and Mali pointed a finger gun at him, shooting him and closing the door, but not before he could wave at you one last time. “Bye, Y/N! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Let’s get you settled, shall we?”

Mali turned out to be an angel. She made up the guestroom for you and sent you away to take a shower, during which she made you some dinner. Before you could turn in for the night, tired from all the things that happened in the last few hours, she came in to tend to the bruises on your face, checking them before applying some antiseptics on your lips and the small cuts you didn’t see before.

“So… how do you know Ashton?” you finally asked, and she chuckled, shaking her head.

“He’s my brother’s best friend. Annoying little shit, but he grows on you. Can’t say no to a pretty girl in distress. Or well, girls in general.”

“I really didn’t want to disturb you, I’m sorry,” you mumbled but she just shook her head again.

“We’ve all been there,” she squeezed your hand, giving you a smile. “And none of us deserved it. If you needed do get out of there, well… then you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. And just so you know, Ashton is very protective of his own. You’ll probably become one of them if you stick around long enough. Just– don’t fall for him.”

“I don’t think that’s on the plate,” you pointed at your own cheek. “Kinda not in the mood for guys now.”

“It’s just a friendly warning,” Mali patted you knee before standing up. “He’s a nice guy. But it’s better to be his friend than anything else. You’ll never see him with the same girl twice. That’s his style: charming, but dangerous.”

Ashton sighed but didn’t pull back, hand still cupping your cheek as he lay beside you. A year has passed since the night he found you on the street, broken and bruised after the way your ex-boyfriend treated you. And while the two of you became close friends, you always made sure not to catch feelings for the guy who was only referred to as a womanizer around the neighbourhood. Or so you’ve told yourself.

“That’s typical Mali,” he scoffed lightly, running his fingers through his hair.

“It doesn’t really matter,” you shrugged, sitting up on the bed and pulling your knees to your chest.

“It does to me,” he pushed himself up and sat cross-legged in front of you. “Y/N… hey, look at me.”

“Don’t tell me again, please,” you whispered, trying to be as small as possible. “Please just… don’t.”

“Tell you what? That I love you?” he squeezed your knee, a slight hurt in his voice. “I’m not gonna take it back – I love you. I just don’t know why are you scared of loving me?”

“You know, Ashton. You know why I can’t.”

- - - - -

taglist.

drop me a message if you want to be added/deleted!

@mymindwide @loveroflrh @sadistmichael @notinthesameguey @babylonashton @talkfastromance4 @dead-and-golden @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @karajaynetoday @myfavfanficsever @myloverboyash @suchalonelysunflower @sexgodashton @rebelwith0utacause @creampiecashton @irwinkitten @allthestarsandthemoon @castaway-cashton @spicylftv @wontlastimokwiththat @luckyduckydoo @sunshineeashton @2fangirl4u @talkfastdrummer @pastelbabygirl19 @istantommoandtpwk @perfectlieirwin @thesweetness-irwin-archive @c-a-l-m-hood @youngblood199456 @tiannaxox2 @caffeinecalum @fanficsandotherthings @melanindarling @bubblegum18

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin blurb #fiction time #asks: fiction edition #prompt list: 2 #afic: glitter & crimson #series: glitter & crimson

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catholicdaredevil · 3 years ago

Note

Hi bestie I hope you’re good! I was just wondering if you could give us a clue of the requests you’re currently working on. Because your writing is just so good I want to be mentally prepared.

hi bestie!!! i hope you're days going great and i just love you to death but i have bad news

i don't really plan out requests in advance too much, they just sit in my inbox till i get like a spark of inspiration for them then i just type that hoe out and post

i barely read over stuff bc i'll pick it apart if i do too much so i'll just like skim it to see for any big glaring errors and usually the little drabble requests i do i just type out in the tumblr answer box and move to google docs for a backup

while the long fics i do, i do plan out and write them in google docs and take time and have friends edit them etc

right now the only fics i have planned fully is the long series we are affectionately calling newsflash asshole and while my original plan was to have it very very long i've never written a long series like it before and i think i'm gonna have to cut the expected word count in half because i am just really struggling to stretch these chapters out to 4k each and i'd rather release them and write the whole story than stress about stretching them and then never finish it if that makes sense

i also have a fic in my docs that's basically done that's just matt being an horny asshole while you're trying to work (which funny enough @mattmurdockspainkink unknowingly tagged me in a thing with that very premise) but i gotta work on the actual smut part to it because that's where i'm the least confident in my writing it's just awkward and clunky and i feel like there's so much more pressure to get it just right or else it isn't as enjoyable

in terms of requests i currently have in my inbox that you're likely to see me shit out here soon (just because even though i don't plan them, i usually have some idea for ones that are gonna hit me) and if you don't see yours it doesn't mean i wont do it but those will be:

-trying to get the rest of the kiss prompts out this weekend (any left behind will just be done later, not like deleted)

-a college matt request that's just about cute domestic college things and it sounds so sappy and wonderful it makes my heart sticky

-a mix of two foggy requests that both base around him being nervous to make a move on reader and matt bringing up that readers heartbeat is always wildin around him so obviously they like him back

-foggy finding out he's a dad

-how matt would react to reader put themselves in danger to protect him and his secret (which i might end up turning into like a little side thing for newsflash asshole)

i hope this helps and i'm just gonna apologize in advance for my inability to follow through with as much as i have planned out here cause i already know i won't lmfaoo but everything will come out in time i promise

#ezra answers #ezra talks #ezra plans #newsflash asshole #fic schedule #this was meant to be a really short answer #and it turned into a whole thing

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elsewhereuniversity · 4 years ago

Text

About Face

“Do you have any questions about your prescriptions today, uh…m-miss?” The pharmacist’s question is laced with assumptions about who you are. It’s not great, of course, but it’s also not worth your time to fight about today.

“No, I’m good,” your smile and voice are sugary-sweet, but your eyes are daggers as you take the bag and turn back towards the door. The heat and humidity are already staggering at 8 am and you are immediately made sticky by the brief walk to your car. As you start it up, there’s a brief chime of email-receiving from your phone, but you ignore it. Then there’s another ding, this time your lab-mate, Valerie, texting you.

Hey, u almost in? In like 30min. had to stop by pharmacy

K. Jill was looking for u. Also ugh that paper for tomorrow, I’m not even a birdsong person lol

Lol get over it, I had to read one of your fancy neuro papers last time. Did jill say what she needed me for?

Whatever lol. She didn’t say.

Ughhhhhhh

Jill, Dr. Dominguez, is your advisor, and you know you need to get her some figures and sections of your thesis soon, but these damn stats…well. There’s a reason you prefer spending your time traipsing off-trail through the wilderness over sitting in front of a computer all day. Not that this part isn’t interesting and important too, but come on.

Traffic is moving at a sluggish pace, of course, so you’re lost in contemplation and dread of the analyses you need to attempt running today, and the inevitable conversation with Dr. Dominguez that will have to happen at some point. As the traffic finally begins to move, you grit your teeth. Maybe it’s time to consider actually asking for help. I have no fucking clue how to do multivariate shit…You stare ahead as you inch forward, before a frustrating, jolting stop at a red light. Your eye is drawn to a kid crossing the road, wearing a grey hoodie. They look forlorn, for some reason you can’t entirely enumerate, and you glance back at them as the light finally turns.

The sun isn’t very high yet, so there are still some odd shadows stretching across the sidewalk, but you could’ve sworn that the kid had no face.

****

You manage to put the pharmacist and your grandma and the obviously-just-a-trick-of-the-light-I-mean-how-else-could-that-be faceless kid out of your mind for the rest of the morning and actually get some results you can work with from the analyses you’d been worried about. And when Dr. Dominguez pops into lab to talk to you, she is actually impressed at both the pace and quality of work you’ve delivered thus far. In fact, you’re feeling pretty damn good about everything, despite the earlier unpleasantness, so you decide to grab some lunch and hang out with some of the other grad students and lab techs.

Lunch-special sushi in hand, you plop yourself down at one of the rundown old tables in the work room. Valerie is there, along with Raul, one of the grad students from a micro lab down the hall, and Jackson, one of the general lab techs. Everyone says hi, but you’re only vaguely following the conversation as you dig into your spicy tuna roll. Something something TA stipends being cut. Which is such bullshit, of course, but nothing new. You’re just about to jump into the discussion when you get a Facebook notification. It’s your cousin, who tagged you in a post. You stare for a good five seconds at your phone.

Just remembering the good times with my cousin before he decided to be a transsexual.

And then a picture from when you were 14, a picture you’d thought you’d deleted from every conceivable online location. A picture that highlights pretty much every single aspect of your body that made staying in the closet completely untenable. Everything just always happens at once, huh.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter, and are surprised to feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes.

“Becca, you alright?” Valerie asks, and you belatedly realize that everyone at the table heard you and is now staring. They think you were talking about one of them, or responding to something they said.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just something my cousin posted. She’s—she can be such a jerk. Don’t worry about it,” you say as you hastily wipe away the tears.

“What’d she do?” Jackson asks. Valerie glares at him so fiercely that he rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, “Just, like, if you wanna talk about it.”

You sigh. You’re not precisely going stealth, but you also don’t just talk to everyone about being trans. Have you actually come out to Jackson? Valerie knows, and Raul, but you don’t think you’ve ever directly talked to Jackson about it.

“It’s—it’s fine. Just, she posted a picture of me from before I came out, and I really hate thinking about any of it.” You speak with a bit more force than you intend.

“Why is that a big deal?” Jackson asks, taking a bite of his pasta. Valerie glares at him again and Raul just shakes his head.

“It’s just…it took me a long time to figure it out, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of that. And it’s not great for dysphoria, either.” You say this distractedly as you go to the post and untag yourself.

“That’s really rough,” Raul says, frowning.

“Sorry, what’s that word?” Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow, “I guess I just don’t get it? It’s just a kid picture of you, what’s it matter?”

And that does it. You stand abruptly, “I need to get back to the lab.” You hear Valerie and Raul berating Jackson as you walk away, but you’re just so very done. You toss the empty sushi container in the trash at the corner of the hallway, near one of the windows overlooking the main walkway through campus. And you nearly trip over your own feet as you swivel to double check something down below. A gray hoodie. A child with no face looking over their shoulder as they turn a corner.

****

You don’t mean to take the wrong street. It’s already been far too long a day between all of the inanity with your extended family and Jackson. And everything you tried to run after lunch was a bust, making you feel like Dr. Dominguez’s praise earlier was completely undeserved. Given all of that, you decided to get takeout again, even though you really should be cooking, so you’re walking to pick up your order. It is early evening, the shadows having elongated to embrace nearly everything, and while debating whether it’s even worth confronting your cousin about the jab, your feet simply take you the wrong way. You don’t even notice, until you’re standing in front of an empty park that’s three blocks over from where you should be. Or, wait.

Not empty. One lone figure, sitting quietly on one of the swings, wreathed in shadow.

You’ve been walking quite quickly, but over the course of a few steps have come almost to a stop. With a shiver, you glance around the area, but no parents or adults are in sight, and the figure looks young, even from a distance. 12, maybe? Maybe the kid lives in one of the nearby houses? Probably. Should you call someone? Who? Not the cops. They’d just as soon arrest or hurt the kid as help them. It isn’t that late, leaving the kid be is probably the most prudent course of action.

But. The kid feels…familiar. Even from a hundred meters, you can see that their shoulders are hunched, their hands are tight on the chains of the swing. The gentle creaking as those chains move with the slight shifts of the kid’s body is despondent in a way that is known to you, somehow. So, against your better judgement, you leave the sidewalk and walk across the damp grass to the edge of the playground. When you step onto the sand, the kid’s head jerks up and their shoulders tense further, raising almost to their ears. You stop walking and from the new angle a streetlight throws the kid’s grey hoodie into stark relief.

“Are-are you okay?” you have to clear your throat to get the words out and your voice sounds weak and tinny in the still, silent park.

The shoulders shrug. The kid is also wearing jean cutoffs, their scuffed sneakers unlaced.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

A sharp shake of the head, and then their hands release the chains and fall into their lap.

“Don’t need anything,” the kid’s voice is low, you can barely hear what they’re saying. Gingerly, you take the last few steps to the swing set and awkwardly settle into one of the worn rubber seats. Only after you have already done this do you think to question why you are so compelled to talk to this child who—maybe? how?—has been dogging you all day.

“I said I don’t need anything,” the kid says in an emotionless voice. Their face is still completely shadowed by their hood and shaggy hair.

“I just—look, kid, I think I’ve been where you are, and—”

The kid cuts across you, “I tried to tell them today. But I…couldn’t, I didn’t know how to, so I just ended up saying I like girly shoes and wanted some or whatever.”

Oh. So you were right. You know exactly what’s going on. In fact, you’re pretty sure you had that precise conversation, once.

“That’s tough,” you acknowledge, slowly pushing back in the swing, which creaks beneath you, “It took me a long time too.”

There’s silence. Then:

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You start and quickly glance over at the kid, who has finally turned to face you.

She doesn’t have a face, which, you suppose, really shouldn’t be a surprise. You weren’t seeing things, earlier. There’s just a smooth expanse of dark olive skin. The featureless head tilts to one side and she speaks again.

“I thought you might recognize me.” The voice is plaintive. With every word, you feel a sense of vertigo, like there is a mouth, somewhere, that is making those sounds, that it’s right in front of you, but you cannot perceive it.

You are breathing very rapidly, “I thought—how do you know me? What’s, I mean—”

“This?” the kid gestures at her face, “I don’t know, I can see but I can’t see myself, I dunno what’s going on. All I know is I was walking to the park and then I was here, or I mean, on the road this morning and saw you and I followed you and I just want to go home or just sleep or just melt away but I can’t, okay? There’s just nothing.”

Without noticing, you have sprung to your feet and are backing away from the faceless girl, the faceless girl who can’t tell her parents who she is. Who you are.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” you whisper. Why are you even responding to this? This is a hallucination, or a dream. You’re just reacting to the whole bullshit situation with your cousin and Jackson and that fucking pharmacy tech. Did you fall asleep back in the lab, is that it? You pinch yourself, but no luck, “I came out and that was what I needed. Okay? Why dwell on, on, on all of that shi—stuff that happened before?”

The girl is still sitting placidly in the swing, though her hands are once again clenched around the chains.

“I knew you were me, I guess. So I followed. I don’t think anyone else notices me either, not that that’s anything new,” The note of bitterness in her voice cuts you to the bone, “I thought maybe you—me, future me, whatever—would be able to…fix me? But nothing’s changed, has it?”

You’re backed up to the slide now, “Why are you doing this? What even are you?”

You slump against the side of slide, your knees suddenly weak, “This cannot—this is bullshit, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but—”

The faceless girl is in front of you now, hands jammed into the front pocket of her hoodie. She stands there, contemplating her future self, “I just want to understand,”

The kid, proto-Becca, or whatever or whoever she is, sure sounds like a kid desperately trying to make sense of something, and not some ghoulish nightmare creature.

“Just stop,” you say in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to think about it, I shouldn’t have to think about it, I just want to move forward.”

“Yeah,” proto-Becca abruptly falls to her knees, and draws them up to her chest. It takes a few seconds for you to understand the sounds that the kid is making are sobs.

You hug your own knees and contemplate getting up and running away and just forgetting about all of it: this faceless phantom of your childhood self, your relatives’ inability to accept your reality, the absurd, useless, pointless stats and analyses. You’re crying too, desperately trying to refocus on the here and now, instead of being drawn down into the rabbit hole of loneliness and regret and fear that always consumes you when you think too hard about those years in which it felt like your whole body was turning against you and you couldn’t find any satisfactory explanations for what you were feeling.

But the sounds of proto-Becca, of proto-you, sobbing into her knobbly knees bring you back to the present. Ironic, that. No matter what else, however she got here, whatever happened to her face, she’s a kid. She’s a kid. She’s. A. Kid. You were a kid.

You furiously wipe your eyes and nose and sit up, scooting a bit closer to proto-Becca.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you say in as steady a voice as you can manage, “I was scared, and, and, and I lashed out. It’s not your fault, kid.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but the sobs are quieter.

“I mean, kid, no offense, but you don’t have a face. And somehow you’re me, right?” Okay, that came out meaner than you meant it to, “The truth is that I’ve done my best to forget pretty much everything that happened back when I was…you, I guess. But I can’t.”

She sniffles, “I’m trying to tell them, I am. But the boys at school, every time I try to talk to Mom or Dad I see those boys laughing and yelling and coming at me and I can’t, I don’t—know how I ended up here, or what to do about this or anything. I just want things to be normal.”

And, finally, you get it. Not why she’s here, or how, or what any of this means, but, at least, what to do. You’ve tried to help kids who were like you before. You’d never have told them that they needed to keep their feelings concealed, that they needed to not do anything so as to avoid reminding you of your own past. So why, then, are you doing it to yourself?

“Is it okay if I come sit next to you, maybe give you a hug?” you ask, as gently as you can.

You get a glimpse of the faceless face from behind the curtain of hair, “I—I think so?”

You get to your feet, a task far more laborious than you feel it should be, and cross to her. When you plop down by her side, she twitches, but it’s toward you. Slowly and carefully, you wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders, and hold her close. She’s still crying, and the hood has slipped from her dark curls.

“It’s okay that it’s taking time,” you say, “It’s really, really hard. I meant that. There’s…nothing out there. No one to explain to you, to, uh, us, what these feelings mean, really. I remember. I remember how much it feels like you’re just stuck in the same looped computer program. Endlessly completing the same actions with no idea why, only feeling like something isn’t right. And so scared of what happens if you do anything that breaks that loop.”

“That’s pretty much it,” she says with a note of wait, that wasn’t completely in my head???, “I don’t see how I can explain to anyone, especially Mom and Dad.”

“I think all you can do is be honest. There are some resources out there, although maybe they aren’t published yet,” you glance sideways at her, “But if you just…elucidate those feelings you’ve been sitting on, it at least opens the door to them comprehending.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, and then giggles, “But also, like, no offense, that was, like, a really freakin’ pretentious way to say that.”

You snort and ruffle her hair, “Whatever. Something for you to look forward to, then.”

She’s quiet for a bit and then, quick like a bird, she wraps her arms around you too, “So I’m gonna tell them, then?”

You shrug, “When you’re ready. Whenever that is. And I promise, you are no lesser if it takes a while. Okay?”

“But you’re still going to hate thinking about me, right? I mean, about how long it took me, you, to finally do it?” her head tilts.

You sigh, “I don’t know. It’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But I think I can at least say that it’s okay. That it’s not my, or your, fault.”

When you look up, her face appears. Smile first. Broad and full of braces, her quick and nervous brown eyes darting to your face and then back to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, giving her one last squeeze, “I’m the living proof, right?”

Her laugh lingers in the air as she fades away.

#transroadwarrior #stories #long post #about face #body horror #of the faceless variety #trans #transphobia #briefly #becca #proto becca #submission

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 4 years ago

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Decagon: The Supportive Hero Chapter 1

Summary: When Izuku finally accepts that Bakugou is not his friend anymore, he ends up collapsing at home. He discovers that he has had a Quirk all along- the ability to bond with others and increase their Quirks. Izuku fully intends to become a hero still, now with a new Quirk by his side. A new school leads him to new friends and new bonds both Quirked and not, plus his mom finding a new husband has his family increasing and the support he needs keeps coming in.

Look out world, here comes Decagon!

Pairings: Aizawa Shouta/Midoriya Inko so far. Others TBA

Warnings: Bakugou Faces Consequences. Bakugou critical. But also he ends up getting redeemed like WAY later so... yeah.

Other Tags: Shinsou is Aizawa’s cousin/nephew, Queer Platonic relationships ahead, Izuku has a Quirk.

On AO3

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

People have a limit. Something that pushes them over the edge, something that makes them snap.

This limit could be related to anything. A movie making you walk out of the theatre for terrible acting.

Rage quitting a game because of one fight that is impossible to beat for now real reason.

Having a long day at work, and then coming home to a screaming child it could be a limit.

For Midoriya Izuku his limit was reached with Bakugou Katsuki.

-0-

Izuku grew up around his best friend Bakugou Katsuki. As little kids, they played together often. He called him Kacchan as a friendly little boy.

Kacchan was a little boy who was a little mean to people. Some little boys are like that. Usually, schools or parents would fix that. For Kacchan, they didn’t.

The school because he was a skilled kid. He learned to read early, was a bright kid and also got his Quirk a bit early. A very powerful Quirk enabling him to sweat a nitroglycerin-like compound that exploded. Not actual nitroglycerin, but close enough.

“A future hero.” the teachers would say. The school district was a low-ranking one and was desperate to get recognition.

Kacchan’s parents tried to correct him when they caught him being mean, but both worked long hours and struggled with trying to figure out when was too much. Both were victims of abuse from their own parents and worried over if it was too much or too little how they raised their son.

Then there was Izuku.

The doctor he went to said he was Quirkless. And everyone knew the Quirkless were worthless. No one cared about Izuku compared to Kacchan. But it was okay because while Kacchan was mean he wasn’t cruel.

Then it all changed. Izuku didn’t know why. He didn’t know why offering his hand to Kacchan made him angry. He didn’t know why Kacchan yelled. He didn’t understand anything.

Izuku became the joke. The punching bag of Kacchan and soon the rest of the school.

Freak. Worthless. Useless.

He felt small and tired and every day he dragged himself home feeling drained of energy. It was hard. It didn’t help that he had health issues. He couldn’t put on a decent weight. His skin often felt like it was burning up. Some days he couldn’t breathe he felt so heavy.

His mother worried. She was the only bright spot in his life. The only person to care. She fought hard for him.

When he was eight they tried to claim he was cheating on a test. He had to be, they argued.

She demanded they investigate properly, including calling in the investigators from the board who all had lie detector Quirks or Quirks that let them be able to tell if people cheated.

Six kids got caught.

None of them were Izuku and the school was harshly reprimanded for blaming him.

They tried to mark down his grades at age nine.

Inko dragged the board into it again and this time now, they had someone to watch over their marking. An idea from the head of the board given she had a Quirkless daughter herself and knew the patterns from when her daughter was in school.

Izuku knew she would do anything for him.

“Bet your mom fucking cries herself to sleep knowing she has a worthless Deku as a son,” Kacchan sneered at Izuku when they were ten. “She probably hates you you freak.”

They were at the park. Izuku just wanted to play on the swings. Kacchan was there with his friends- or lackeys whichever he preferred. Kacchan was convinced Izuku had followed him, convinced that he was so important to Izuku that he would waste his time like that.

Izuku was ten. He knew his mother loved him and cared for him deep in his soul and he knew Kacchan was lying. He was saying mean things to hurt Izuku.

He brought his mother into it.

Izuku stared at Kacchan… at Bakugou and felt something snap.

Everyone has a limit.

Izuku’s was his mother. And Bakugou crossed it.

It changed everything.

Izuku stared at Bakugou for a long time, enough that the other boy began feeling uncomfortable before turning and walking away. The single act was enough to startle the other boy, as well as the other two who were with him.

Bakugou watched Izuku go with wide eyes before scowling.

“Useless freak,” he grunted. He turned and stopped, suddenly feeling dizzy for a second before shaking his head. Probably didn’t drink enough water again, he figured.

Izuku walked home in a daze, feeling sick for some reason. He shivered as he tried to grasp the handle of his apartment door, laying his to hot head on the cold door and breathing in.

Why… why did he feel like that? He was fine. Angry at Bakugou, sure but he was fine earlier… you don’t get sick that fast. It wasn’t possible.

He managed to get the door open, stumbling into the apartment, his legs too heavy and his arms like lead as he tried to move.

“Izuku…” he heard his mother speak but he couldn’t respond, his tongue too heavy and a sudden icy cold sweeping through his body as his knees buckled.”IZUKU!”

-0-

Inko dropped to her knees, a hand going to her son’s neck and checking his pulse.

Slow but steady. Good.

Oh, thank God.

She grabbed her phone from her pocket and dialled for an ambulance. She kept the phone to her ear as she tried to focus on five things she could see.

The couch. The book she had dropped in her scramble to get to Izuku. The ugly carpet she kept meaning to replace. The stupid wedding photo she kept meaning to throw out now that she caught Hizashi actually cheating thanks to his mistress finding out he was married. Izuku’s red shoes.

She could not panic. She could not panic.

Do not Panic! She hissed mentally as the phone connected.

“What’s your emergency?”

“My son collapsed. He was at the park and came home, just suddenly dropped when he came in.” Inko said. “His pulse is steady.”

“Alright,” the operator said soothingly. “And this can’t be his Quirk?”

“Izuku’s Quirkless. He’s had problems with kids using theirs on him before as a bullying tactic so it might be someone else’s but I don’t think so.” Inko reported. After she had gone after the fourth kid’s family they had stopped. She knew they kept doing so, she wasn’t stupid but Izuku wouldn’t tell her and the school played dumb. At least they stopped trying to charge her for new uniforms when she had also threatened them with demanding a release of all their videotapes, with the help of a friend at the law firm she worked at who had a Quirk that let him get ANYTHING deleted from a system.

“Shit,” she heard over the phone and sighed in relief.

Quirkless people were discriminated against. However, it was often in subtle ways most people didn’t think about. Microaggressions, her boss had told her when she came to him and asked for help understanding the laws to protect her son. Outright harm was sadly common as well, but luckily it was improper to do so. You could be an asshole but hurting them? Very improper and Japanese people hated being improper. So Izuku dealt mostly with microaggressions from adults. Children not so much.

Inko had gotten good at picking up people who would be cruel to him. And from the sounds of it, the operator was not one of them.

Giving the address, she stayed on the line while sitting next to her son.

The ambulance came quickly and she opened the door to wave them in. Three of them though only two came up the steps to her apartment. Her building didn’t have an elevator sadly, the building over two hundred years old before the time of Quirks.

They came into her apartment quickly and checked him over themselves, one of them frowning.

“... are you sure your son is Quirkless?” Asked a blue-haired female paramedic. Inko blinked.

“Yes. He was diagnosed at four.”

“How?” The other woman asked.

“The doctor said his toe joint-“ both paramedics interrupted her with groans.

“Ben!” The woman yelled, going to stick her head outside the open door to yell at their driver. “We got a possible unknown Quirk!” She told the man, while Inko stared in confusion before the other paramedic, a brunette man, spoke up.

“The toe joint theory is false. Got disproven about… five years back? Guess they didn’t call you in for a re-evaluation if your kid never showed signs.” Inko stared at him before she felt a very familiar feeling in her gut.

Anger. Raw hot anger curled its way up inside of her like a snake, filling her stomach with rage.

“Oh.” She hissed. “I see.”

“Well, you’re terrifying.” The man muttered as his partner came back in.

“My Quirk is Medical Check. I can tell what injuries people have. Your son is suffering extreme Quirk exhaustion. I’m talking probably one of the worst cases I’ve seen.” The woman told her. “He needs fluids, heat packs and the hospital. Now.”

Inko followed them as they took her son, pausing to lock her door as she ran after them to get into the ambulance. As she drove with them she began texting her law firm.

She had some things to do. Mostly plan on how to best terrify the doctor's office and potentially sue the doctor who misdiagnosed her son and never called back when the test was proven false. If it was possible anyway.

When they got to the hospital she put her phone away and ran after the cot when it was transferred to nurses, only being stopped by a nurse who needed her to fill out forms. She did so while her son was being checked over.

The forms were simple, though do once she ended up writing unknown in the Quirk box, including the words of the paramedic.

She then got directed to a sterile waiting room filled with magazines, other people and posters of heroes smiling and saying random messages that were supposedly comforting or something.

She waited quietly, eyes on the clock until a nurse came in.

“Mrs. Midoriya?” The nurse called and she stood, walking over to her. “Right this way. Your son was stabilized.” Inko followed the nurse who led her to a room where a doctor was looking over a clipboard, her son in a bed with multiple blankets, an IV line and what she thought were heat packs around him. It was a pediatric room, with bright walls and superheroes on them.

She thought he’d like it when he woke up.

“Ah, Mrs. Midoriya. I’m Doctor Aizawa.” The man offered his hand and Inko shook it. “Your son is… stable.”

“But not okay?” She asked.

“Okay is… harder to describe.” Said the doctor. He frowned, scratching his cheek. He’s handsome, Inko thought. Her worry for her son made her latch on to stupid details such as the man in front of her was handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes. Nice and tall. “Your son is suffering extreme Quirk exhaustion. In fact from his records we have on file it looks like he’s suffered it for years. It just happened to have fully kicked in now.” The doctor motioned to the bed. “His body temperature is extremely low and he shows signs of malnutrition but from what I understand you have been trying to help with that. Various vitamins and diets?”

“Yes. Are you saying he’s been suffering it for years but no one knew?!?” Inko demanded, heart in her throat and anger still in her gut.

“Quirk exhaustion can appear as chronic fatigue if it never reaches a serious point.” The doctor replied, looking at his clipboard again. “If the person white the right Quirk never checks it can be missed if the Quirk itself is passive. Like your son’s appears to be.”

“Do we know what it is?” Inko demanded, turning to look back at her son. He looked so small in the bed, swaddled up in blankets and heat packs. He shivered and her hands clenched. How was he cold, she wondered. How was he cold under so much?

“Sadly no. My Quirk enables me to stop the usage of Quirks on myself, so I won’t be able to tell.” The doctor said. Inko frowned, glancing at him and waiting for an explanation. “Part of my Quirk is that this way I am able to tell what a person’s Quirk is when they use it on me. I don’t know the full details but I can tell what it does in the basic terms.”

“And that’s why you’re a doctor?” Inko asked. He looked surprised and she blushed. “Izuku loves Quirks. He’ll probably ask you a million questions when he wakes up and ask to write it all down in a notebook. He loves analyzing.”

“Ah,” chuckled Dr. Aizawa. “Possible his Quirk deals with other Quirks then, that’s a common side effect. Becoming interested in other Quirks though usually it’s just wanting to know what they do. That was how it was for me and my cousin.”

“Cousin?” Inko asked.

“Ah yes. My cousin is a pro-hero. His Quirk enables him to stop other people’s Quirks when they’re working. He can erase all but mutation types. I was going to ask permission to contact him. I often do so in cases like this. As long as it’s not mutation he can tell what your son’s Quirk main purpose is.”

“Main purpose?”

“Some Quirks have multipurpose Quirks. For example, Tanaka- the paramedic you met- Medical Check enables her to be able to tell what someone’s medical concern is at the moment, but it also enables her to retain vast amounts of information on medical history and enables her to know what the exact tool needed for a patient is. It’s why she’s such a good paramedic.” Dr. Aizawa informed her. “We can figure out the main purpose and any side effects will then come later.”

“Thank you, please call him,” Inko replied and the doctor left, leaving Inko to wait by her son’s side, hoping he’d wake up.

He didn’t by the time a tall dark-haired man in a black jumpsuit stumbled in, a visitor badge on a lanyard around his neck along with a long scarf. Dr. Aizawa followed him, looking annoyed.

“Hello,” The man in the jumpsuit said in exhaustion. “I’m Aizawa Shouta, the Pro-Hero Eraserhead.”

“Eraserhead?” Inko asked. “My son knows you.”

“... what?” The man looked startled. Inko chuckled, unable to help it.

“My son. He loves heroes, wants to be one. He found out about you and just became obsessed. Said you’re a little like him, fighting with no Quirk.” The man blinked and then coughed, rubbing the back of his head.

“That’s nice.” He muttered. Dr. Aizawa snickered from behind him and his cousin shot him a nasty glare. “I’m going to use my Quirk to disable your son’s. I should have the basic idea of what it is then.” Inko nodded and watched as the man’s eyes went red and his hair floated up along with his scarf. When his eyes went to her son, she gasped, feeling a sudden dizziness. She stumbled slightly and grabbed the table she was sitting by.

“Mrs. Midoriya!” Dr. Aizawa cried out, going to check on her. She blinked and let him check her over as the other Aizawa dropped his Quirk and turned to them. “Was this her son’s Quirk?” Dr. Aizawa asked.

“Yes,” Eraserhead replied. “Her son has a bond type Quirk, meaning he forms bonds with people and I think boosts their Quirk.”

“Oh, is it drawing too much energy from him?” The doctor asked in worry. “I’ll contact a specialist in bonding Quirks.”

“Why are you spending so much time on this?” Inko asked the doctor. “I mean I’m happy, don’t get me wrong but… Izuku is just a little boy who had an unknown Quirk.”

“Bonding Quirks are dangerous,” Eraserhead was the one to reply, facing her. “Bonding Quirks that affect others? More so. There was a villain who had one over fifty years ago. By bonding with people he could heal them by passing the wounds onto others. He killed twenty heroes and over a hundred civilians.”

“There’s also the chance his bonding with others could be accidental and could have a villain bond to him and increase his Quirk,” Dr. Aizawa told her. “We need to be careful.” Inko nodded her understanding. “Shouta, can you stay on-site for a while? I’ll have to report this and in case a villain is tipped off…”

“I will.” Eraserhead promised before yawning. “I’ll sleep in the cot if that’s okay?” He asked Inko. “I had a case that had me up for the last few days.” Inko waved him to the spare cot in the room normally meant for parents and he collapsed into it with a groan.

Dr. Aizawa left to go and make his calls. Inko herself decided to go and get a drink from a machine, leaving the room quietly.

Walking down the hospital halls, she found her way to a vending machine where she put in some money to get a water bottle. Waiting for it, she heard a familiar voice from behind her. She turned to see a familiar blonde woman scowling at a blonde boy.

Bakugou Mitsuki and her son, Bakugou Katsuki.

Inko and Mitsuki used to go to the same high school, and were friends of a sort. Enough that when their kids were younger and they had learned they lived in the same areas, they started hanging out again. But Mitsuki was a model, and her husband a fairly popular fashion designer. Often they were out and about with work, meaning that Inko and Mitsuki were restricted to monthly meet-ups.

Inko didn’t mind. Mitsuki was a nice enough woman but she was a lot to handle.

“Calm down brat, the doctors said you were fine!” Mitsuki told her son.

“What do they know? My explosion was way less powerful than before!”

Inko suddenly knew. She stood there and watched the two and just knew. She knew deep in her gut what had happened.

As if in a trance, she walked up to them. Mitsuki saw her first, and a look of concern crossed her face. After all, she was in the pediatric part of the hospital.

“Inko! Is Izu-chan okay?” the woman asked. Inko didn’t answer, instead staring down Katsuki.

“Bakugou Katsuki.” she began in a very clear tone, controlling her anger. “What did you say to my son?” He froze, eyes wide before they darted to the side. Mitsuki began scowling.

“Brat! Didn’t I fucking tell you to leave Izu-chan the fuck alone! What the hell are you thinking, still being mean to your friend?!”

“They’re not friends,” Inko spoke up, still staring at him. “Izuku is a terrible liar but I can tell when someone explodes his belongings. I just never had proof.”

Mitsuki paled before her eyes flashed and cheeks reddened. She might have managed to become more affluent and gain a fair amount of money from modelling and fashion, but she grew up like Inko, terrified and constantly trying to make ends meet. Secretaries like Inko, even ones working for a law firm, did not make enough to cover replacing clothes all the time.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” Mitsuki snarled through her teeth and Katuski actually paled himself, looking at her. “We will have a talk later, young man.” she continued through her teeth.

The look her son carried told Inko that he knew the anger Mitsuki felt then wasn’t the fireworks or the cherry bomb temper his mother usually had. Loud screaming, and snapping, but then she was done. Got the anger out.

Her anger then was the colder anger she carried, born from years of abuse and terror she had felt as a kid.

“What did you say?” Inko asked him again.

“... Told him you didn’t love him and he was a worthless Deku,” Katsuki admitted. Inko closed her eyes as Mitsuki jerked away from her son, a look of pure anger crossing her face before her fists clenched.

“Bakugou Katsuki, me and your father WILL be talking about this,” Mitsuki grounded out, the words sounding as if it took everything she had not to scream them. “And expect a very lengthy punishment.” The shocked look Katsuki flashed her made Inko’s heart cold.

“My son came home from the park and collapsed,” Inko said. “Turns out the doctor used a test on him that was outdated five years back, but we were never called in for a revaluation. He came and collapsed due to Quirk exhaustion.”

“Son of a bitch.” Mitsuki whispered, her eyes widening. Inko nodded, still looking at the young boy.

Katsuki looked shocked before a look of pure anger crossed his face. His hands clenched and Inko wanted to shake him. How dare he be angry her son has a Quirk. How dare he look like that.

She didn’t though. Instead, she kept speaking.

“It's a bonding Quirk. When he bonds with someone, their Quirk increases, we think.” Her eyes flashed to Mitsuki who made a choked noise at what she said before Inko continued to speak, “A man who could erase Quirks temporarily came in and erased his. I felt dizzy and confused for a second, weaker.”

“... No,” Katsuki said, it clicking for him too. “No! THAT FUCKING FREAK HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH MY STRENGTH! WITH MY QUIRK!” he screamed at Inko. A few nurses in the halls turned to look their way and a security guard who had been down the hall turned around. Inko didn’t move.

“If I’m right and he snapped the bond, then you owe him a lot. And you ruined it.” Inko told him before turning around. Katsuki screamed again but his mother moved him away from Inko, grabbing a nurse to speak and keeping a grip on her son as Inko walked away.

Was it cruel to say that to a ten-year-old? Inko wondered as she walked back to her son’s room.

Possibly.

But she didn’t regret it.

-0-

Izuku blinked his eyes open, squinting at the bright light from the ceiling. He closed his eyes again, groaning as his brain felt like it was full of sludge, his mind struggling to understand what was going on. He was cold for some reason, but he could feel blankets on himself.

“Izuku!” his mother cried out, running to him from the doorway into his room. “You’re okay?”

“Mom?” Izuku slurred. He shivered, feeling cold, so cold. “Mom where am I?” Izuku asked.

“The hospital honey,” Inko told him, reaching up to run a hand over his head. “You collapsed after coming home from the park.”

Izuku hummed and then shivered again, wrapping the blankets around him as if he was a butterfly in a cocoon.

“I’m cold,” he whined.

“I know baby,” Inko said. She tucked the blankets in more as a doctor he didn’t recognize came in, along with a guy in a black jumpsuit holding a coffee mug.

“Ah, he is awake.” the doctor said. He bowed his head and introduced himself as Doctor Aizawa. “And this is my cousin Eraserhead.”

Izuku blinked at the doctor’s word, trying to understand. His mother looked at him with worry while the doctor walked over to check his temperature and check his vitals.

“... Eraserhead? THe hero?” Izuku asked, blinking rapidly. “I… I saw your fight with Angel Dust.” Eraserhead frowned.

“That fight?” he shook his head. “How did you find the stream?”

“I… I got hit by a classmate’s Quirk. Makes you stay up for days. Couldn’t sleep and found it.” Izuku admitted. The said classmate had actually hit him on accident and felt awful about it. Had been really nice until her family moved. He missed her, she had been one of the few who wasn’t scared off by K… Bakugou. He shivered again and wrapped the blanket tighter around him.

“Ah.” Eraserhead nodded. He fell silent after that, the doctor instead taking over.

“Vitals are fine. Core temperature is still low but slowly rising. If your theory is right Mrs. Midoriya, then it is possible part of the bond drew heat from the other boy and losing it dropped his own temperature.” The doctor said, causing Izuku to frown. He looked at the doctor, his head slowly feeling less foggy.

“Huh?”

“Izuku… honey. You have a Quirk.”

He wanted to throw up.

-0-

A Quirk.

He had a Quirk all this time. Every single damn year since he was born, he’d had a Quirk.

And it was thanks to some stupid doctor who used an outdated test and the doctor’s office who never called he was tormented for years.

Izuku stayed under his blankets, not wanting to leave as Dr. Aizawa left, saying he had spoken to the specialist and they would come soon.

His mother left as well, heading out to speak with her boss and to settle things with the school.

“It sucks.” A voice from Eraserhead startled Izuku who had forgotten he was in the room, laying on the cot. “It sucks this happened to you. If you want to punch someone or scream I’m here.”

“... if people knew earlier everyone would want to be my friend. They will now.” Izuku voiced. “Like K… Bakugou. Everyone wants to be his friend even though he’s mean cause they think they’ll be cool with him.”

“Mhmm.” Aizawa hummed. “Me and Minato, your doctor, were in a foster home when I went to UA. When I got into the hero course they suddenly bragged about it, wanted to be around me and be my friend.” He chuckled a little. “I told them no. In unkind terms. Mostly swear words.”

Izuku snickered at that before falling silent. The two laid in the room together silently for a little while longer.

“...I don’t want to bond with Bakugou again. But if mom was right and he-”

“No,” Eraserhead said. He sat up from the cot he had been laying on to go and sit beside Izuku, staring at him. “You don’t owe him a damn thing. If you broke the bond, then it was over something you felt went too far. From what I can tell he’s been bullying you. You do not owe him friendship or respect or anything.” The older man told him, holding his eyes. “No one owes anyone anything.”

“But he wants to be a hero. And heroes need to be strong.” Izuku said. Eraserhead shook his head at that.

“Then he needed this wake-up call. Bullies don’t last long in hero courses if we can help it. It’s better he learns that his actions have consequences now than later when he’s older and in a hero course but gets removed from said course.” Eraserhead reached out to lay a hand on Izuku’s head. “You do not owe him anything kid. Don’t let him make you think you do.”

Izuku laid in bed, staring at the ceiling while Eraserhead went back to bed. He felt a sudden deep thought.

Eraserhead was right.

He didn’t owe Bakugou a single thing. He didn’t owe him his friendship, his time or his Quirk.

He was Izuku. He was going to be a hero.

And he owed him nothing.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

This spiralled off a Tumblr ask and I couldn't resist it. It was to much fun. I hope you guys are enjoying this! Also, yes. Tags are right, we get some Bakugou redemption later on though that will take a while. He's a stubborn brat.

The Aizawa/Inko pairing is the only one I have planned and originally it wasn't even planned. Just me kinda playing with a thought and oops, down the rabbit hole.

Little bit on Aizawa and his cousin: Both are related and were kept together due to this. Their parents were killed when Minato was about ten, and Aizawa was about seven. When Aizawa got into the hero course, Minato was just graduating high school. He got custody of Aizawa and the two left the foster home. Minato is the only medical professional OTHER then Recovery Girl that Aizawa trusts to treat him.

Minato will not play a huge role other then as a doctor and Shinsou's dad but you will get references to the man.

#bnha #bnha au #decagon #bakugou critical #fic #izuku #inko #aizawa #aiinko

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astoldbysteph · 4 years ago

Photo

We’ve all seen them. I’d like to say that they lurk in the shows, waiting to see which innocent character they’ll discriminate all in guise of ‘creative freedom’. But the thing is, these character don’t hide in the shadows, they’re out in the open, being lauded by people that care more about ships than protecting the people around them and ensuring everyone is comfortable, enabling harmful portrayals that I really believe should be a thing of the past.

In this tungle hell post, I’ll talk to you about sexist characters, and why we need to stop allowing them in your groups.

This post is specially dedicated to the admins such as the people that ran @elisabethisland, to the people that write sexist, assholish male characters, and those who happily write against them and have enabled them for years.

So, what is a sexist a character? At least from my experience, most of them have been cis, usually straight, men portrayed as big shots with jobs that give them massive amounts of power, although there is also a classist trend of playing roughnecks that don’t know any better and thus they treat women like objects. Things only get worse when people use faceclaims of color to play them, but that’s something for another day.

These characters are also usually portrayed as playboys, which is all fine and dandy since they’re hyper cool big shots that can do whatever they want, and while there is nothing wrong with portraying serial daters as long as you do it with respect, the problem with these dudes is that they use their status as a playboy to interact with a lot of female characters they end up demeaning.

That is something that needs to stop.

The rpc heavily shifts towards romantic ships, especially m/f pairs formed by cishet people so people tend to give writers who write misogynistic men since people that write cis dudes they can ship with are a very small minority. And, ugh, ignoring the problem behind people’s obsession with male chasing and playing their cishet girlies against every cis dude they encounter (because male chasing has a layer of transphobia that also should be called out), there is absolutely NOTHING that justifies writing men that are downright misogynistic and bigoted.

NO, you are NOT more mature than the rest of us because you think you’re shit shit since your character refers to women as sluts, whores, and whatever other names you can think of while treating them like they’re below him.

NO, portraying a man as a woman hating raging asshole is not something to be proud of, nor is it something to boast about, especially when you play him against characters that are subjected to be mistreated by him.

NO , telling you that you should not play men that are sexist and don’t respect women is not infringing your creative freedom. You are not writing 50 shades of grey fanfiction for yourself only, you are ROLEPLAYING. You are writing all while collaborating with someone that does not deserve to be exposed to male chauvinist that get off on mistreating women, especially since the majority of roleplayers are women and believe me, we see enough of that sexist shit on the daily so some of us would like to not also have to deal with the same short dick smegma smelling assholes we avoid irl on our dashes.

NO , you don’t have to make your male character an abuser or a bigot just because you are playing a villain. You can play an antagonistic character without incurring in flat out writing about them discriminating others and then putting it on the dash for everyone to see. Put a little more effort into your characterization and just don’t choose the easy way, because nowadays the easy way is just the way of the people that have no respect for others.

NO , just because you add trigger warning to your characters your actions are suddenly okay. I mention this because there is a very poignant example on what elisabethisland’s players did when people noticed that they had a group of men that were being downright disgusting towards the girls they were writing against, and admins happily approved of this behavior and even participated in it.

Before they deleted everything and erased all evidence, those gross players literally tagged their stuff with things like sexism and misogyny, only to follow up the triggers with tags were they expressed their annoyance over the people that “complained” and forced them to start tagging their shit.

And the sad thing is, they’re not the only people doing this. They weren’t the first to be doing this, and they sadly won’t be the last. But maybe we can try to change that?

If you play male characters, I urge you to think hard about their development, use this chance to play them as good men. Even if they’re not overly happy or have a lot of issues and even trauma, that doesn’t mean that they must act like total assholes that put down women as a hobby. There are so many ways to give your characters depth without making them horrible people. Please stop exposing people to horrid dudes that are one second away from hurting women. Stop normalizing these sort of portrayals or let’s take advantage of the fact that we re literally in control of what we are writing so if we want, we can use our writing for good.

And this goes to women writing them... Really guys, really? There is no excuse to continue perpetuating this sort of stereotypes and continue putting this kind of men out there. If we could (sort of) put a stop to people playin full blown racists, maybe y’all can rethink your actions and stop playing these assholes? LOVE YOURSELVES!

If you write against male characters, value yourself and your characters more and refuse to enable writers putting out disgusting portrayals of misogynistic men, especially if you’re thinking of doing it or have done it just to have a ship.

I personally believe that ships shouldn’t be the most important thing in roleplay, but I am not your boss so I can’t stop you from only wanting to roleplay your self inserts against male fcs you find attractive. BUT, what I can do is to implore you to at least think about changing your ways.

Listen, we’ve already established that you’re only here to play self inserts against hot dudes. Okay, cool. That means you have all the power so seriously, why in the world would you want to play a portrayal of yourself to interact with a raging, abusive asshole?

Come on guys, let’s not traumatize or retraumatize ourselves and at least try to encourage people to play the men we’d like to see and not the men that have hurt us for centuries.

#rpc #rpt #rph #steph helps #sexism tw #misogyny tw #wntta

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juminsmysticmc · 4 years ago

Note

I was wondering how would the RFA react to MC playing a prank on them using the “ Yo is your man still around” Audio from TikTok to see what they’re reactions is? Btw I love your work keep it up and I hope you have a lovely day

RFA react to a MC who use a TikTok sound (Yo what’s good Shortie, is your man still around)

Hey Babe! Thank you for your patience! I hope you will enjoy this HC. At first, I thought, that TikTok was a dumb App and yeah. It didn’t even take me a day to get obsessed with it, I love it! So, tell me your opinion on it, okay? Have a good day, I love you!

Jumin

You got a bit bored with time and since there were days when Jumin wasn’t by your side that much, you decided to download the app that everyone went crazy for lately - TikTok.

At first it was a bit difficult for you to use it. You were unsure how to get content you liked, but in time your FYP became better and better until you saw that one trend.

A sound was a man’s voice said, ,,Yo what’s good Shortie, is your man still around?’’ and all the men in the videos reacted just so sweetly…

You knew that you had to do it too.

And so, you gave Jumin a kiss when he wanted to go to work and then started playing audio.

Jumin waited and looked at you because he didn’t recognize your phone ringtone.

But when the man asked the question, Jumin’s face froze.

,,Excuse me. Who wants to know that?’’ he hissed and grabbed your phone, looking at the display he saw that this wasn’t a FaceTime call, but something else.

,,Who was that, Mc?’’ he asked you.

,,No one, Jumin. It was just a prank,’’ you tried to explain.

,,No, my love, I heard it clearly… don’t you love me anymore?’’ Jumin whispered and got on his knees.

,,Do you want to leave me?’’ he asked you.

Suddenly you felt guilty and decided to show him all the duets.

,,So this TikTok made this?’’ he asked after you showed him five videos.

You sighed and chuckled, trying to tell him once again that TikTok was the name of the app and not the one who made the audio.

Zen

You, as his manager, was in charge of his TikTok account and always read through the requests of his fans or deleted bad comments.

You did your job pretty well and that’s how one day you read a comment, which wasn’t for Zen, but for you.

,,Hello, Mc! I love you and I support you! May I ask for a video where you use the audio ,Yo what’s good Shortie, ur man still around?’, we need to see a jealous Zen!’’ the person named ,,MC X ZEN IS LIFE’’ asked you.

You still didn’t know the trend so you searched for it. It was then that you knew that this challenge would be pretty funny.

You told Zen that it was time for him to go.

Just while he put on his shoes, you started the challenge and recorded his expression.

At first, he looked up when he heard the ringtone, but looked down again.

However, his eyes were wide open when he heard ,,Yo what’s good Shortie,’’

But when he heard the question if he was still around, everything in his head stopped.

,,YOU ASSHOLE OF A MAN, YES SHE-’’ Zen quickly noticed that this was a video since the sound stopped and the video of him got replayed.

,,Huh?’’ he looked at you, a bit worried.

Suddenly, you broke down in laughter and saved the video, telling him the truth.

,,A fan?’’ he asked you.

You nodded and was just about to walk away when Zen hugged you from behind.

,,For a second my heart stopped and I really thought that you were cheating… You’re so mean, princess…’’ he whispered and kissed your neck.

,,I’ll make up for it…’’ you teased him.

Yoosung

You and your husband stopped talking.

Instead, you guys began to tag each other in the comments below funny TikToks.

,,Did you see this video already?’’ he often asked you, making you laugh loudly.

It was funny how good an app like this could become.

One day, while he was at work, you came across this audio and was about to tag Yoosung when you read a lot of the comments.

People were using the same audio to prank their boyfriends and you loved the idea.

You didn’t wait too long to use the trend and waited until Yoosung came home from work and had to leave for another visit to the doctor.

The audio stopped him from putting on his jacket since nobody usually called him.

He guessed something bad happened and waited.

But then the audio began and the man’s voice echoed in the hallway.

Yoosung observed you and waited for you to answer the man, but of course you couldn’t.

Instead, you began to laugh loudly.

,,I don’t think that’s funny, Mc! Who was that?! Who is it?!’’ he hissed and wanted to grab your phone.

He quickly realized, however, that this was TikTok.

,,You-’’ Yoosung suddenly began to sniff.

,,You pranked me!’’ he began to sob.

,,WHY ARE YOU CRYING?’’ you laughed a bit harder.

,,I PANICKED FOR A SECOND AND- YOU’RE SO MEAN!’’

Luckily he wasn’t angry at all, but he made sure to get revenge on you with another trend...

Jaehee

Okay, Jaehee was a bit harder, I thought about leaving her out

You wondered why, but Jaehee still didn’t have a TikTok even though Zen used the app for all kinds of challenges.

But since you had it and you were crazy about it, you knew every sound by memory now.

One day you came over the ,,Hey what’s good Shortie’’ audio and just loved the reaction of the partners.

And so, you thought about doing the same to Jaehee.

Although, she would probably notice that this was fake.

But nonetheless, you used the sound while she was cleaning the kitchen.

,,Yo what’s good Shortie, is your man still around?’’

As soon as the sound ended, you could hear how Jaehee stopped her cleaning session and came over to you.

,,Mc, did you tell anyone that I am a man?’’ she asked you.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and began to laugh hysterically, shaking your head and showing her the video you took.

,,I don’t understand why you like this dumb app so much!’’ she hissed at you.

It didn’t take long until you showed her all kinds of videos and made her obsessed with it too.

,,Jaehee, the kitchen...shouldn’t you finish?’’

,,As punishment, you can finish cleaning it while I spam Zen with likes, thank you.’’

Saeyoung

Handling two accounts on TikTok wasn’t difficult.

Instead, it was super easy for both of you.

You and your future husband were quite famous as ,,The Herotic Duo + Saeran“

Of course, Saeyoung felt bad leaving his brother out so he added him, filming some pranks together.

Saeran, however, was quite special on the account so he didn’t appear often.

But the both of you pranked each other regularly with one of the extra phones Saeyoung had.

One day you saw on your own phone and your normal account, that one famous prank everyone was doing.

You decided to do it too and upload it live on your shared account.

One tap on the screen of your phone and the sound began.

,,Yo what’s good Shortie, is your man still around?“

,,Tell him that I am here and that he can come. He can videotape us while I show him that you are mine!’’ Saeyoung told you and turned towards you.

,,SAEYOUNG CHOI, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING?!’’ you laughed, trying to cut the live on TikTok

,,WELL YOU PLAYED A PRANK ON ME!’’ he yelled back and approached you, hugging you tightly.

What you didn’t notice, was that you never actually cut the live.

And so, while your fandom kept staring at the wall, you and your fiancé kept kissing passionately...

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

01.09.2020// 22:43 MEST

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passivenovember · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Questions

I was tagged by: @cherrydreamer @gideongrace and @neonponders thank you so much!! I love talking about myself. Love hearing my own voice, so this? Far out.

I’ll tag: @coffeeandchemicals , @disdaidal (if you fancy)

How many works do you have on AO3?

31. I’ve been thinking about deleting or possibly orphaning a few. Maybe consolidating some of the one shots into a single chapter work, just to clean things up a bit.

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

312,628

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Stranger things - Harringrove. 312,628 words to right the wrongs. I’ve tried writing for Chilling Adventures of Sabrina as well, but they aren’t a very welcoming fandom.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Swallowtail, Walking Home (v)., The Tourniquet, mama said to smile while I still have teeth, Strain Through a Clean Napkin, and If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to respond to everything. It’s very rare that I get a comment on my work, so when I do I like to show that I appreciate my readers interacting with me. It often feels like I’m writing stuff for myself alone, or like I’m sending little message bottles into the sea, waiting for a reply.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably Smoke, Lilies, and Jade.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I don’t usually write cross overs but with my recent interest in the Fear Street Trilogy, I’d like to cross those bridges.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Oh, sure. I find it’s often on the work that I put the most of myself into. There’s one ao3 user in particular who obviously doesn’t ship Harringrove but still finds it within themselves to read all of my longest fics and complain about their endings.

My most negative experience happened when I signed up for the 2020 Harringrove Holiday Exchange. Smoke, Lilies, and Jade got 50 negative comments from one person and the user I wrote it for told me they never really planned on reading it, so.

This random asshole made me cry for what felt like no reason. At the end of the day, those who did read it and those who’ve stumbled across that one since continue to ask for me to expand on the world I created, and I’ve been going back to edit whenever I can.

Such a weird experience.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I don’t, but I’d like to. The closest I’ve ever come was for Things I Know to be True, my Eternal Sunshine for the Spotless Mind AU. I’m just not very good at it. I’m easily embarrassed and my fear of failure has my creativity in a goddamn headlock.

Kelly made me promise, however, that I would write my BDSM vampire fic someday, so. We’ll see. Just gotta practice a little bit first.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Probably not and honestly? If it ever did happen I’d draw blood when I tracked them down.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I’m a firm believer that all fic should be automatically available in every language once posted. I know that’s not really possible for ao3 but hey. I can dream, right?

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Unfortunately no, but I’d be SOOOOO down to give it a try. Especially with someone who’s strong suit is smut because mine is angst and world building. We could make beautiful music together.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Harringrove. I will be here long after everyone has packed up and left shop. This place and these people are my home.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Things I Know to be True. I get messages about it all the time, but. I’ve hit a wall.

What are your writing strengths?

World building, OCs, dialogue

What are your writing weaknesses?

Smut

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m a bimbo so I try to avoid it. The last thing I want to do is offend someone.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Frerard :/

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

It used to be Super Dark Times but If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields has stolen my heart. Angst, humor, fluff, budding relationships, growth, change, heartache.

I know exactly the story I want to tell. I’m proud of my work.

#harringrove #jaz speaks #thanks so much for the tag!!

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

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The House Party - ep.03 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Things start to heat up as the week reaches its midway point and you make a decision that changes everything.

A/N: Mild smut at the very end of the chapter.

The S’week Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

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You weren’t sure how many times you would have to brush your teeth to get the taste of last night out of your mouth but the three times you already had clearly weren’t enough. It wasn’t alcohol, in fact you’d woken up more sober than you expected to be, almost leaning off the edge of your bed, tucked into your blanket, with JJ laying on top of the bedding beside you. It was all very ‘one motel bed’ trope-ish but you’d both been so exhausted last night that you couldn’t even enjoy the implications of it. An ice cube tray of melted aloe vera sat on the night stand and you brought it down with you to the kitchen to refreeze when you decided coffee might help the taste that wouldn’t leave your mouth. 

To put it the only way you knew how, a way JJ would have definitely put it, you tasted kook trash every time you swallowed and it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, at least not while Rafe was two houses down from you. 

“Morning,” Pope voice half startled you as you entered the kitchen to find him sitting at the island eating cereal. 

“How is it possible that you look so normal?” You asked, grabbing a bowl for some cereal yourself. Breakfast was a good distraction from your phone and the taste in your mouth. 

“You mean as opposed to John B and Sarah who decided to parent trap it on a floatie in the pool?” He asked, turning for emphasis to look outside where your best friend and her boyfriend were indeed asleep on a floatie in the pool. 

“Exactly.” 

“I’m not a big drinker.” He shrugged. “What about you?”

“Am I a big drinker?” You asked. 

“No, how did you end the night?” 

You nodded your head slowly, realising what he was getting at with his question. “JJ was sick, I figured it was better to come back here than make him stay at the party.” 

“Sure.” He agreed though it sounded empty, “did you hook up?” 

“What?” 

“Look, I know how JJ parties, he’s my best friend. And I know what his ‘senior week plans’ were before Sarah hijacked them to come down here. I wouldn’t put it past him to alter them. You know, have sex with as many girls as he can in the keys. Host included.”

“We didn’t have sex.” You replied. 

He stared at you for a full minute, not saying anything, as if the look on his face alone would crack you into admitting some misdeed. And it probably would have if any had occurred. 

“We didn’t have sex, I swear to god.” You reiterated. “It is what I said it is. JJ was throwing up in the bathroom and I brought him back here so he could rest. That’s all that happened.” 

“With JJ.” Pope scoffed. 

“Whoa, where’s the displaced animosity coming from...pretty sure you’re in my house.” 

“Yeah and JJ is my best friend. I don’t want you stringing him along for the week cause you’re bored and you wanna make your ex jealous or something.” Pope replied.

“You literally just got done telling me that JJ wanted to sleep his way around s’week but I’m the bad guy in your head because of some proposed plan I have to ‘make my ex jealous’?” You questioned. “That’s un-fucking-believable.”

“It would be if I hadn’t seen you in the hallway with your ex right before you left with JJ.” 

“You’re delusional. My ex who? Just cause I was talking to some guy-“

“You weren’t talking and it was Rafe.” 

You shut your mouth, lips pressed together in a line as you tried to think of something to say. Sure, it was common knowledge amongst your friend group that you and Rafe had been hooking up for the better part of two years but that was over and you really didn’t think it was the kind of thing that pogues talked about. And you trusted Sarah not to have blabbed about it to anyone else. 

“How’d you know-“ 

“How’d I know you and Rafe were a thing? Sarah’s not the only one here that knows you. I’ve seen him at your house before when I delivered groceries, not so hard to put two and two together.” 

“Well me and Rafe are over.” 

“You didn’t look over.” Pope challenged. 

“Oh well, thank you for interpreting two fucking minutes of my life and deciding how I feel about something.” You snapped, “I didn’t want him to kiss me okay, I told him to leave me alone. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that the word no isn’t exactly a part of his vocab.”

Before Pope could say anything back the sound of footsteps on the stairs caught your attention. Both of you looked toward the staircase in time to see JJ appear, shirtless with just a pair of swim shorts on. His shoulders and chest were red but not as burnt as his back, which you caught a glimpse of as he trudged passed you, not in the high spirits he had been yesterday morning. 

“Dude, your back looks painful.” Pope commented, staring at the expanse of angry red skin that looked more ready to blister than anything. 

“It feels painful too.” JJ grumbled. So far he was 0-3 with vacation. He was stuck in this kook house (which really wasn’t so bad but he enjoyed bitching about it), he was sunburnt to hell, and he’d wasted an entire night of partying throwing up from sun-poisoning (though that worked out in his favour too because he definitely enjoyed the part where he sat on your bed and you rubbed aloe ice cubes on his back and basically took care of him). 

“Guess the beach is out of the question?” Pope asked, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. 

“I can go to the beach.” 

“You definitely can’t.” You replied, coming around to look at JJ’s back. He was sitting on one of the stools, slumped over. “You shouldn’t get anymore direct sun on your back.” 

“Oh cool, I’m so glad I came all the way down to fucking Florida to sit in a house all day and do shit.” 

“Sorry man,” Pope said, though he made no offer to stay at the house. Yesterday had been great and he was looking forward to going to the beach again today with Kiara. John B and Sarah had mentioned tagging along but he knew they’d eventually go off to do their own thing. 

“We could go to the boardwalk?” You offered, ignoring the look that Pope sent your way. You knew he was just being a good friend, looking out for someone he cared about, and it made you wish that Sarah knew enough to do the same for you. 

“What will we do on the boardwalk?” JJ asked, curious enough that he wasn’t immediately rejecting the idea. 

“There’s a water park there and an arcade, plus you know, tons of food.” You shrugged, “I know you wanna go to the beach-“

“I can be persuaded.”

“I think you already have been.” Pope commented. 

The three of you turned your attention to the stairs as Kiara came down, already dressed for the beach. When she saw the three of you in various states of sleepwear she rolled her eyes, “hey Kie be ready early so we can all go to the beach together.” 

“Technically, Sarah said that and she’s passed out in the pool still.” Pope replied, pointing out the glass doors to where the floatie was still carrying John B and Sarah on the water. 

“Let’s wake ‘em up then.” JJ slipped passed you, winking, before he ran outside, jumping into the pool and landing directly on top of John B and Sarah. 

You, Pope, and Kiara rushed to the doors in time to see the floatie flip over, all three teens going under as Sarah shrieked and John B tried to grab any part of the inflatable raft. Sarah surfaced immediately after JJ, throwing her body on him and wrapping her arms around his neck as she tried to push him under. 

“You asshole!” She screamed when JJ ducked under the water, twisting in her arms and grabbing her waist so that he could throw her off him. 

You watched them for a minute longer, as John B finally got involved, before heading back into the house and going upstairs to change. You’d left your phone plugged in the bathroom outlet while you were sitting with JJ and you picked it up now to check your messages. Two from Rafe and one, unsurprisingly, from Topper. It’d been him at the end of the hall that called Rafe away from you. 

-You okay?- was all the text said and you quickly responded. 

-Nothing happened. Thx-

You deleted the messages from Rafe without looking at them. You could hear everyone come in the kitchen, footsteps on the stairs as John B, Sarah, and JJ came up to change. You pulled on a crop top and some shorts, pocketing your phone before hurrying downstairs. 

Kiara and Pope were back to hanging around the island, talking to each other about their plans as you entered. 

“Hey, do you guys wanna meet up later on the boardwalk?” Kiara asked, “we could do dinner or something?”

“Sounds good to me.” You replied, grabbing your backpack from the chair and making sure that you had everything you needed. “There’s a pizza place near the South street entrance that has incredible food, plus it’s super cheap.” 

“I do love cheap food.” 

You had locked your shorts and your backpack in the rented locker of the water park along with JJ’s backpack before the two of you headed for any of the rides. Both your phones locked away in your backpack, cutting you both off from the rest of the world for however long JJ felt like staying at the water park. 

“So? Where to first?” You asked as JJ stopped in front of a mounted map of the park. It wasn’t as big as Dorney or Six Flags but it was pretty expansive for being an extension of the boardwalk. 

“Shush, I’m consulting the map.” 

“Consult the bones,” you said and JJ laughed, casting you a glance before going back to the map. 

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand suddenly, having zeroed in on a ride titled the constrictor, 450 feet of enclosed water slide and the two of you were going down it. 

He weaved his way through the crowd of people, leading you closer and closer to the line for the slide. Most people were at the beach on the weekdays which meant a shorter wait line, something JJ was happy about. It was bad enough he was spending his day at some dumb water park with you, he didn’t want to have to wait in line too. Although, he hadn’t let your hand go yet. 

“Should I mention before or after we ascend these stairs that I have a mild fear of heights?” You asked, taking the raft that was offered to you by the water park employee. 

“It’s fine,” JJ assured you, “here go ahead of me.” 

“How does this help?” You asked as you stepped in front of him onto the first stair. 

JJ shifted his raft under his arm, pressing it against his body and holding onto the railing while he used his other hand to hold you, fingers brushing the skin above your bikini bottoms as he held your waist. “See.”

You bit your lip and took a deep breath, “yeah I see.” 

The rest of the way up the stairs JJ kept his hand on either your waist or your back. He wasn’t too thrilled with heights either though focusing on the peach bikinis bottoms you wore, little pineapples polkadotting them. He could imagine you totally smacking him in the face of you knew but he’d take his chances. 

As sly as he might’ve thought he was being you knew he was looking. When you turned around at the first platform before the stairs twisted you caught him looking down, eyes darting up quickly when he realized you were looking at him. You didn’t say anything, just turned back around so he wouldn’t see the satisfied smile on your face.

“You ready for this?” JJ asked as you stepped onto the final platform, JJ stepping up behind you.

“I’ll see you at the bottom Maybank.” You replied, stepping over to your slide while JJ got set up at his.

You liked waterparks for the lazy rivers and the wave pools and those crazy contraptions for kids that looked like towering pipes and dumped water on you. Even the log flume was fun. But giant enclosed slides that shot you through winding loops for endless feet until finally dumping you in a pool? Not your favorite. But as you looked over at JJ, who flashed you a thumbs up, you were having trouble thinking about the things you didn’t like.

The slide was over before you knew it and you were climbing out of the pool, JJ standing on the side waiting for you. “How did you beat me?”

“I’m like speed racer,” he said, making a wooshing sound as he glided one hand under the other like a wave.

“Well, speedracer, what next?” You asked, taking off your soaked shirt and wringing it out as you followed JJ back to the map. “Are we consulting the map again?”

“What you think I memorized it?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder at you and grabbing your hand when a woman with a stroller tried to squeeze between the two of you.

By the time you and JJ met up with Kiara and Pope and made it back to the house Sarah was already setting up for a party. John B had obviously been enlisted to help as he was trying to adhere light stripes at the top of the wall in the living room.

“What’d you do rob a liqour store?” You asked, grabbing the leg of the ladder he was on when he leaned to far to the left.

“Feels like it.” John B replied, “Sarah filled a cart. We’re either having a party or she’s turning into everyone’s alcoholic grandmother.”

“We’re having a party!” Sarah called, coming in from the pool area, “it’s exactly what we need.”

“Why do we need to host a party?” Kiara asked, looking back at JJ and Pope but they just shrugged, obviously not willing to get involved.

“Because morale is low here people.” Sarah replied, “and it’s senior week, duh.”

“Duh.” You repeated, raising your eyebrows and grinning at JJ who laughed. Sarah watched the interaction skeptically, as far as she knew John B’s best friend had complained of nothing but a bad time. Now he was joking with you like the two of you were friends.

“Can I talk to you,” she grabbed your arm to pull you out of the room, “Pope hold the ladder!”

“Oh cool the bathroom.” You muttered as she dragged you into the hall powder room, shutting the door behind her and trapping the two of you in the crammed space. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s going on with you and JJ?”

“Didn’t we do this literally yesterday?” You questioned, “I said then and I'll say now, JJ and I are barely friends.”

“Except when I texted Kie earlier cause I couldn’t get a hold of you she said you and JJ were on the boardwalk together.”

“Oh, oh my god Sarah, you’re right, something is clearly ‘going on’ because I went on the boardwalk with someone instead of just ignoring the people living in my house.” You rolled your eyes at her accusation that something was going on though you sincerely hoped something was.

When she finally released you from the bathroom the two of you resumed getting ready before you changed into something more appropriate for the party. NC parties were slow going in the early hours until they finally picked up, mostly just crowds of people crammed in an empty rental or spread out on the beach. House parties in the Keys happened a little more erratically. People showed up while it was still light out, hanging around the pool drinking and shit talking until it got dark and they all migrated inside, drunk off their asses and louder than necessary.

You had moved the table and chairs in the dining room and pushed all the furniture back in the living room for good reason because the minute the sun went down it felt like everyone was spilling back into the house for part 2. You were in the kitchen, ignoring most everyone there, watching JJ set up a shot for Kiara.

“Is it lime and then salt or salt and then lime?” He asked, glancing at you.

You were leaned against the counter beside him and Kiara was on the other side with Pope, who already said twice he wanted no part in this. “Lime first, how else does the salt stick right? I don’t remember...I know how to do a body shot.”

“Are you offering?” The grin on JJ’s face as he asked had you practically melting in your spot.

“Guys!” Kiara leaned across the island, snapping her fingers, “can we please just do the shot!”

“Right, sorry.” You apologized, grabbing the bottle of tequila to pour for them.

While the three of you were talking Pope spun in his chair, observing the louder parts of the party that was raging on the first floor. There were a few people lingering in the kitchen with you, mostly to be closest to the alcohol, but otherwise everyone was contained to the living room, dining room, and pool. When he looked out the glass doors to the pool area he frowned, “hey guys, look who showed up.”

You looked out the door to see Topper on the patio chatting with some local. “I’ll be right back.”

“Can we just enjoy the party?” Pope called though you were already slipping out the door.

“Top,” you called not caring that you were interrupting him, “can I talk to you?”

He apologized to the girl before placing his hand on your back and leading you further away from the party, stopping once the two of you had stepped onto the sand path down to the beach. “Look, someone texted Rafe about the party alright.”

“Well I don’t want you guys here.” You replied, “you weren’t invited by me and it’s my house.”

“Hey come on, you know me alright, I’m not trying to start anything-”

“Doesn’t sound like the Topper I know.”

“That wasn’t me alright, Sarah made me a little crazy, I'll admit. But I’m over that.” Topper replied. “I don’t understand why you and Rafe broke up and suddenly you can’t hang with any of us.”

“Are you still friends with Rafe?”

“That’s not fair, we’ve been-”

“I don’t care. You know what happened. You want me to be friends with you Top? After what you and Kelce did. Look, thanks for last night but I don’t need your guilty conscience looking out for me. I need you to get your boys and get the fuck out my house.”

“Putting on the tough act for Topper?” Rafe’s voice came from behind you and you closed your eyes, jaw tensing at the sound.

“It’s fine man, we’re just talking.” Topper replied, stepping closer to you.

You opened your eyes and turned around to see Rafe and Kelce standing there, “actually I will tell you the same thing I told Top, get the fuck off my property.”

“Damn,” Rafe whistled, “you start hanging with the pogues and suddenly you think you’re tough shit.”

“Hey man, let’s just forget it.” Topper said, getting between you and Rafe.

Rafe put his hand on Topper’s shoulder, guiding him out of the way, “you go ahead, I need to talk to my girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend.” You replied, “I said we were done and I meant it.”

Pope had been watching you talk to Topper from the kitchen door and when he saw Rafe and Kelce join the two of you on the catwalk he’d broken up JJ and Kiara’s shot game to tell them something was going down and you were out there alone.

“Maybe she’s just talking to them.” Kiara shrugged, “I mean, she is a kook. Her and Rafe used to date too so...”

“She dated Rafe?” JJ asked, eyes wide at the implication.

“Oh yeah, she broke it off a couple times but they always got back together. Sarah told me she thinks they might get back together again.”

Pope frowned, thinking of the way you had looked this morning when he accused you of doing just that, “I don’t think so. We should make sure she’s okay.”

“I’ll get John B.” Kiara replied, making her way to the living room to find John B and Sarah.

JJ and Pope meanwhile, headed outside, coming up behind Kelce just as you told Rafe that you were never getting back together with him. You saw the two of them passed Kelce’s shoulder and your best at a subtle shake of the head, a silent ‘please go back inside’. But Topper saw them too and alerted Rafe to their presence.

“Kelce wasn’t lying Maybank, you really have turned into a guard dog haven’t you.” Rafe said, turning his full attention on JJ. Topper pulled you to the other side of the path and pushed you behind him as Kiara, Sarah, and John B walked up.

“Fuck off Rafe, you aren’t welcome here.” Kiara cut in before JJ could reply.

“I didn’t know you owned the place.” Kelce challenged.

“I already fucking told you to go!” You said, “so go!”

Rafe only smiled, looking at JJ still, “what pair you guys make man. A bitch and her dog.”

Without warning JJ lunged forward, shoving Rafe back and swinging, trying to punch him. When Kelce tried to grab him John B intervened, getting Kelce in a choke hold. It took a second for all six of the boys to become involved in the fight as Kiara urged Sarah to call the cops. Rafe punched JJ, sending him back into the sand and getting on top of him, hitting him repeatedly while Topper held off Pope and John B and Kelce fought with each other.

“Stop it,” Kiara grabbed at Topper, trying to pull him off Pope and Sarah just stood there frozen.

You went for Rafe, trying to push him off JJ. When you grabbed his arm he pulled away only to throw his elbow back, colliding with your stomach and sending you to the ground. It was all the momentum that JJ seemed to need to shove Rafe off him and get the upper hand, kicking him in the stomach a couple times.

“Get the fuck out!” He shouted, spitting on your ex-boyfriend.

Topper let go of Pope and grabbed Rafe’s arm, helping him up and pulling him away, Kelce breaking away from John B and following them back to theirs, away from the party. The six of you stood there in silence, trying to process what had just happened.

“Some party.” Pope finally said and Kiara glared at him.

“Didn’t I say this week would be shit.” JJ said, looking over at you before turning and heading out toward the beach.

“Let’s just go back inside.” Sarah pleaded.

“Why were they even here?” Pope asked, casting a glance your way.

“Topper said someone texted Rafe about the party.” You said, “could have been anyone...he’s been down here with me before, he knows some of my Keys friends.”

“Whatever,” Kiara cut in, “we have three days left and I would love if we could just, not see them again for 72 hours. Is that possible?”

“I hope so.”

“I had a feeling you’d still be out here.” You said, walking up behind JJ on the beach. The light from the houses behind you did little to illuminate the night. The waves were lapping up the sand at JJ’s feet and he made no sign that he even knew you were there. You dropped the blanket you had around your shoulders and sat down, not bothering to straighten out the corners. “I know you’re pissed-“

“I’m not pissed.” He said, digging his heels in further. “I just...you and Rafe, seriously?” 

“It was different, at the beginning.”

“That’s just an excuse.”

“Maybe but...I was 14 when we first started dating and I really thought he liked me. But, he just liked that I was insecure and he tries to remind me of that every time he sees me.” You explained. “Rafe being down here doesn’t change what happened at the water park, I didn’t just kiss you because of him.” 

It’d happened during the lazy river ride that you had forced JJ to go on. He had spent most of the ride pushing your innertube with his foot and trying to tip you until it finally happened and you went over, sputtering to the surface and trying to grab at your inflatable tube as passersby tried to avoid the two of you. You’d pushed his innertube over in retaliation and he’d abandoned it to grab you and try to dunk you underwater.

Serendipitous maybe, as you twisted in his arms, turning to face him, he’d leaned down and kissed you.

“He keeps showing up.”

“I didn’t invite him.” 

JJ looked back at you before rubbing the heel of his hand across his cheeks and sniffing to get rid of the literal waterworks he’d been two seconds away from. This wasn’t the vacation he had signed up for. And maybe there had been some good parts so far but the complicated bits were starting to outweigh everything else. Still, he shifted back so he could sit on the blanket with you; a step in the right direction you hoped. 

“What’s in the bag?” He asked, looking over at the backpack you’d carried all the way out here with you. 

“I didn’t think you would want to go back to the party so I brought the party with me.” You replied, unzipping the main compartment to reveal the alcohol you had swiped from the house. “I don’t know if you wanna party with me-“

“Shut up and pass me a beer.” 

You smiled, grabbing a beer from the bag and handing it to JJ. Without warning he grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him, leaning back on his other elbow as he did. You caught yourself, pressing your hand into the blanket to hold yourself up and realizing you were hovering over him. 

“I, uh-“ you stammered, licking your lips briefly before JJ let go of your wrist and put his hand on the back of your neck, leading you into a kiss. You kissed back, ignoring the feeling of the beer bottle cap scratching your hand as you shifted to be closer to JJ, moving your knee between his legs so you were almost straddling him. 

“Are you sure?” You asked when you pulled away to move your hand from the beer bottle. You frowned when you glanced at it, holding it up so JJ could see the cut. He took your wrist, kissing over the small cut on your palm. “I’m not really good at casual things,” you admitted.

“Is that what this is?”

You shook your head before leaning in to kiss him again. While you held yourself up with the hand that had been cut by the beer bottle your other hand moved to JJ’s stomach, fingers slipping beneath his shirt and dancing along the soft skin of his abdomen, just above his shorts. His grip on the back of your neck tightened ever so slightly as he held your face to his, pulling out of the kiss for the briefest of moments to look at you, “Are you sure?” He repeated your question though it had a different meaning.

“Yeah.” You nodded. It was dead on the beach this time of night and you were far enough down toward the water that no one could really see you from the houses though that didn’t stop this from being the most daring thing you’d ever done.

JJ shifted so that he was laying back on the blanket, pushing the backpack away from his body as you straddled his waist. His hands went to your hips, running over your ass and settling on the backs of your thighs when you leaned all the way forward to kiss him, bodies practically pressed together. You kissed along his jaw and down his neck, sucking a bruise into his skin. JJ’s breathing picked up as your right hand moved between your bodies, fingers unbuttoning and unzipping his shorts before you slipped your hand beneath them, grasping him. JJ bit down on his lip as he moaned, the sound coming up from his chest.

You pulled away from him, cool air rushing between your bodies as you sat back on your heels. He watched you, heart pounding in his chest, as you put your hands on the waistband of his shorts, ready to pull them down, “God, why are you not in a swimsuit.”

“Excuse me for not knowing I was gonna get lucky on the beach.”

“I’m gonna leave you on the beach for saying that,” you teased.

JJ’s hands held you in a vice grip, squeezing your hips, “not a chance.” He replied. He ran his hands up your sides to the hem of your bralette, fingers nudging the fabric up and you caught on to what he wanted, obliging him by lifting the top up over your head and tossing it to the side.

Your original plan of action went to hell though you could be upset when JJ wrapped his arms around your back and sat himself up, knocking you back and laying you down so he could hover over you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he kissed you.

“That was a neat trick.” You managed as he mirrored the hickey you’d left on him on your own neck. He smiled against your skin as his right hand moved across your stomach, fingers brushing against the underside of your breast. His mouth travelled down from your neck, kissing between your breasts before moving to the left, tongue darting out to flick over your nipple. His fingers twisted your other nipple at the same time and you tensed, hips shooting up to try and create some friction with his own. He sucks another bruise into your skin, just below your left breast before moving back up to kiss you.

The new position made it easier to get his shorts and briefs down and you manage to push them down to his thighs after you rid yourself of your own shorts. JJ leans his forehead against your collar, looking down at you with a sly smile. “No underwear?”

“I was in a hurry to get dressed.” You insisted, “now shut up.”

“I’m not the chatty one.”

“I’m not - holy shit!” You cursed as he slipped his hand between your thighs, coating his fingers before rubbing your clit. His middle finger circled the bundle of nerves before slipping down inside of you, just barely offering anything before repeating the cycle. When he kissed you he slipped his tongue in your mouth and you bit down gently, not enough to hurt him but enough to getting him going.

You tried to press yourself up into his hand but he pushed you down, slick fingers digging into your skin as he pressed you against the blanket. You whimpered when he pushed his hips into yours, his dick rubbing over your clit and you grip his hair as he tilts his head down to kiss and nip at your breasts again.

“Please, Jay,” you begged, unashamed and completely oblivious to your surroundings as he lined himself up and thrust in to you. He stilled for a moment once he was completely in, savoring the feeling of you until you tugged his hair. “Move.”

“God, you’re so desperate for me.” He teased, kissing beneath your chin and along your neck.

Finally he moves, thrusting into you. His pace quickens and you wrap your arms around him, digging your fingers into his back. He groans from the almost pain of the feeling, his hips hitting yours harder to give back as much as you’re giving him. You pulled him closer so that you could kiss him again. You’d be lying if you said that you had been on edge with JJ all day. That every touch and smile, the kiss in the lazy river, it all felt like foreplay as he thrust into you now, slipping his hand between your legs to rub your clit as he did, pushing you closer to the edge.

“JJ,” you whimpered, muscles in your stomach clenching as you felt yourself approaching your high.

JJ pressed his face into your neck, biting again at your collar, “I know,” was all he said, repeating it again when the rhythm he’d built up wavered slightly as he felt his own release approaching, “I know.”

One hand fisted the blanket beneath you as your release hit. You came, his name the only thing you could think of, and he came right after, the feeling of you tightening around him enough to pull an orgasm out of him. JJ held himself up on one arm, trembling above you, still connected as his hips still, his eyes on yours.

You sucked in a breath as he kissed the tender skin of your collar, red from his teeth, “have you ever gone skinny dipping?” You asked.

“Not in the Keys.” He replied, letting his upper body fall against you as well, all of him pressing into you.

“When I can move again...want to?”

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