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feeder86 · 9 months ago

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Feeder 86: The Top Ten

Can you believe that the Feeder86 ‘Orginal Gainer Stories’ blog will soon be posting the two hundredth story? I thought of many ways to celebrate. But then I stopped and realised that I would probably be best using the time to address one of the questions I get asked about most frequently. Which of the stories do I personally like the most?

This was not an easy list to make as I very rarely go back to re-read my own work after I have finished editing and posting them. This is not because I do not like them, but because I always see bits that I want to change. Nevertheless, this project was the perfect opportunity to revisit a few oldies that I remember being very proud of at the time.

Hopefully you will see this list for what it is: a glimpse into how I write, my motivations and drive; rather than just a self indulgent pat on the back for myself. Yuck!

So, with that being said, let us begin...

#10 The Feeders’ Formula: This tale certainly had to be placed into the list. After all, it is the one that kicked off ‘Original Gainer Stories’ all those years ago. There are many amazing examples of instant body weight transformation stories out there. I felt that I needed to write this one as my contribution to the genre. It went down well at the time. I swiftly wrote a Part Two, then followed it up with others (The Feeders’ Formation, The Feeders’ Formalities, The Feeders’ Foreclosure, The Feeders’ Forecast, The Feeders’ Former Years), becoming something of an ongoing saga in recent years; focusing on the different Feeders from that very first meeting. As a writer who sometimes struggles to find the ending, these are wonderful to write as they all have the same inevitable conclusion. There is also so much freedom to be had when you’re working with characters who are pretty much pure evil. I know so much more about the Feeders than I’ve ever written down, so it is great to tease out those little details with each new installment. The newest of these tales (The Feeders’ Foreplay) was the darkest yet, but seems to have provoked a very favourable reaction from many. Who knows what the Feeders may get up to next? I do! And you can find out too, once we start a whole new sweeps season of stories this April! Come with me into The Feeders' Fortress!

#9 Only One: Where do I start? Only One has my absolute favourite type of feeder. Ben is big, sexy and very in control. He’s one of those rare types of guys who always stays on top and is a step ahead of absoultely everyone he meets. Who wouldn’t fall for him? I certainly did! In fact, I loved him so much that I wrote an entire prequel for him (and none of you even noticed!) Check out Rewire if you want to see how Ben became the man we know and love.

#8 The Wright Boys: The idea of a weight gain that cannot be stopped or controlled is a tempting one for many. How much easier would it be if you didn’t have to second guess your choices or face the pressure to lose weight? This was the first tale of what I see as ‘The Curses’ saga that eventually bled into many other stories (including another one on this list!) and culminated in Wright vs Beckett. However, this story remains my personal favourite of these. If you’re a fan of looking for crossovers between my stories, these are some of the most explicitly linked. I followed it up with a spin-off tale (The Wright Boys: DNA), but continue to have ideas about how I could go back to these boys in the future. Watch this space.

#7 Making Monsters: The title of this story really does give away how I felt about it at the time. This is quite the saga, spread over into not just two, but three parts! It began as a story that was very similar to Blackmailed; a tale that I had written previously about a guy voyeristically enjoying seeing his friend fatten up her boyfriend. However, this story evolved even further for me, with Tommy’s love of eating and gaining weight being both his greatest love, and his biggest shame. His denial only heightened the tension for me, and, when he does eventually give in, the gains feel all the more satisfying as a result.

#6 The Pig Feed: It’s not easy to write a gainer story where there isn’t another character spurring the events along and encouraging things. In this tale however, that role is given to a very tasty and surprisingly addictive pig feed mixture that Steve gets himself hooked on. It’s a story that I really enjoyed writing and still feel very happy with. I have considered writing more stories around this interesting feed. However, I am yet to do so; deciding (for now at least) that things are perhaps best left as they are. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts on this.

#5 Farm Boy: Whether you grew up in a big city, or a small rural community, like Hayden in this story, we can all relate to having desires and attractions that those around us don’t understand. And, thanks to how well connected we are these days, we now know what it’s like to realise that you’re not actually alone, and the whirlwind of excited emotions that follow. I enjoyed writing this story because I, quite simply, fell completely in love with Hayden. As kinky as he was, he still retained that fresh faced innocence throughout. If any of my characters were destined to be together forever, I imagine that these two would be my top choice.

#4 Keeping a Crush: This is one of those stories that I wrote in a matter of hours, and I was so pleased with it when I was done. Getting the train to go to work is not necessarily something that many Americans have to do, and so the location had to be switched to the UK (quite refreshing, I thought!). For me, it’s one of those really rare instances where placing very solid restrictions on the structure of a story (In this case, having it all take place during the commute to and from work) and finding that it actually elevates the sexual tension and mood. All scenes take place in public settings. All conversations could, in theory, be overheard. These days, so many people meet online and flirt for weeks by messaging back and forth, before they even see each other for the first time. Nowadays, for better or for worse, the actual, real fantasy is finding a connection with someone you just see in the real world; perhaps with a person you literally just met on the way to work...

If you’ve not read this one, I really would highly recommend it.

#3 To the Max: Stories with a magical element to them are either loved or hated. However, I find that this tale walks that line very successfully. Ned gets his hands on a love potion and makes straight guy, Max, fall for him. I’m sure we’ve all been there with that fantasy! However, it is in the consequences of inviting someone into your life, someone that you actually know very little about, that the entire eroticism of this story is based. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read it, but believe me when I say that things soon start getting very interesting indeed…

#2 Tommy’s Two Hundred. Don’t recognise this one? Well, that's because none of you have read it yet.

Now, I’m not just saying this because I want you all to come back for the two hundreth story, but this is genuinely one of my absolute favourites. For my big milestone stories in the past, I have written something specifically for that event (Wright vs Beckett, The Seven Feeders of Finn). However, this is just a tale that I adored writing and decided to hold back for you all, especially for this occasion. It’s a story of domination and submission within a fairly open, but very kinky, relationship. Strapping Hunter plays the part of a very controlling feeder, making me break many of my own rules and stretching my boundaries to the absolute limits. You’ll either love him, or you’ll hate him. That’s all I’m going to say…

Also, this story is going to be the first Feeder86 story that will be fully illustrated. It’s all thanks to the amazing talents of Spellwell9 who was given an advanced copy and asked to imagine the characters in four different scenes. I cannot wait for you to see this!

Put it in your diary. All will be revealed from Friday 5th April…

#1 F80 Control: This is perhaps a controvercial choice (especially as my #1). I have previously admitted that this story strays a little from its purpose of being a gainer story. In other words, I get very caught up in the background story that is being told. However, I feel that the science fiction genre is surprisingly underused in tales of weight gain. Yet, the combination of Aritificial Intelligence and submission seemed, to me, to be the perfect blend. It really is a beast of a story if you can follow it all the way through to its conclusion.

With the advent of improved artificial intelligence software in recent years, I felt the time was right to develop the world further, with the addition of F80 Ctrl Alt Del; a spin-off tale set slightly before the main story. Then, unable to help myself, I followed this up again with another companion story, F80: Kidnap and Control.

The reason I chose this universe as my favourite is because this is where I am happiest writing. With AI, I don’t need to consider the morality or motivations - I know exactly what their aims are and I can see multiple ways in which it will cause conflict with humanity (and their waistlines!) I would also love to write more for this world one day, and I even left a little unused subplot in the last story that I think would provide the perfect starting-off point for another chapter. Will I ever write it? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

So, there you have it! The the complete list!

This was a much harder exercise than I expected when I first embarked upon it. Stories like: Jiggle the Jock, Meticulous, Rule Number One, Freaks, Leftovers I and II, Ethan: The Secret Feeder and, not fogetting The Consequences I, II and III all crept in and out of the list, unfortunatley missing out on the final cut. There are many, many others, of course. But this list cannot go on forever...

So, why not tell me which ones were your favourites? Feel free to write in the comments and post a link to any other stories that you have enjoyed from myself, or from other authors. Hopefully, if we all work together, this could become a great resource for people in the future, filled with signposts and reccommendations.

Also, don’t forget the Feeder86 Contents page where you can find links and descriptions of all the 200 stories posted so far (as well as plot outlines for upcoming tales as well). Please continue to enjoy the vast catalogue of stories, and even have a go yourself! I love supporting the many new gainer fiction writers who contact me. So please do get in touch if you need advice, or to talk through your ideas. Let’s all encourage a whole new generation of people to get typing away! I’m sure you will cheer them on just as much as I will.

Thank you to everyone who supports the stories blog here on Tumblr. Keep checking in every Friday througout April for a whole new sweeps season to celebrate this milestone. Stories will include: Tommy's Two Hundred, Train for a Gain, The Feeders' Fortress and The 1% (a companion story to The 5%). For now, I thank you all for taking time out to sit and read the very bizarre tales that sprout from my mind. You are all wonderful.

Happy 200 stories!

Feeder86

#gainer fiction #gainer stories #gainerstory #gayfeeder #gainerfic #gainer story #gayfeedee #gay feedee #gainerstories

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tinartss · 7 months ago

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some of tin's fav haikavetham fics (fic rec list!)🍓🍓

hello all i've always wanted to make a fic rec list and i feel like i've collected enough hkvh fics to make one now LOL most definitely i am forgetting to include a lot but here are a few of my faves!

notes:

check tags before reading👍

most if not all are sfw bc that is my vibe

sorted from least recent -> most recent

was gonna add little comments to each but i'm now realizing that would take up a huge amt of space so. just know that all of these changed the trajectory of my life. thank u fic authors for all u do🫶

then who? by heartslogos (T, 27k)

“Let me,” Kaveh would say with his eyes, his head, his hands. Let him what? Let him in, let him speak, let him stay, let him touch and see and listen — All of the above. Has it not always been so, the two of them like this, Kaveh and Al-Haitham? Kaveh: not quite asking, not quite taking. Al-Haitham: not quite answering, not quite offering. - Al-Haitham has been confined to bed-rest for a month. Kaveh assists. Al-Haitham recovers, they both do.

Asked and Answered by heartslogos (T, 55k)

It begins in the House of Daena, or at least, Kaveh thinks that that’s where it should begin. If one were to trace the flow of events backwards, it would lead to this moment. If Kaveh were Al-Haitham, he would insist on going further back. Further. Further. Further. All the way back, to the literal beginning of all of time and creation, possibly. But Kaveh’s brain only has enough room for so many creations at any given moment, and the works of others — while inspiring — historically don’t get students passing grades. Or even grades at all. When thinking about one’s relationship with their soulmate, it seems natural to think to a first meeting. A first introduction. Well. This can be said for any relationship. It all begins with that first brush — a name, given; a silhouette, glanced; a voice, heard.

the truest forms of love by heartslogos (T, 29k)

“Nahida said that the moment you touch the seeds is the moment you must stop speaking,” the Traveler says to him, standing between Al-Haitham and the door of the simple, small hut that is to become his and Kaveh’s for the foreseeable future. “Is there anything else you want to say?” The beak of the swan is foreign, cool and strange. Al-Haitham struggles not to flinch away from it as it slides along the side of his jaw, his cheek — imploring and fretful. One last and ineffective plea. Al-Haitham feels the warm weight of solid muscle around his neck, his shoulders — the fidget of wings, the beat of a heart. Al-Haitham’s fingers sink into soft feathers and the bones and muscles of a bird shift against his hands as he holds Kaveh close. What is there to say? Why bother to say something to someone who cannot say anything back? “Stand aside,” Al-Haitham says, slowly lowering Kaveh to the ground. “The sooner I begin, the sooner it ends.” - A story loosely based on the fairy tale of "The Six Swans".

house of cards by luminvies (T, 21k)

There is a scrap of parchment he'd created and abandoned all the way back when the two had been attending the Akademiya together. Sometime between then and the first month he has to move in with Al-Haitham, the list gets crossed out, scribbled over, crumpled up, carefully unfolded again, and revised. The working title for his tireless troubles: Ten Reasons You Cannot, Under Any Circumstances, Fall In Love With Al-Haitham.

…And how Kaveh falls anyway.

through the grapevine by katarasvevo (G, 3.8k)

Theories are passed around in the form of whispers: Professor Alhaitham probably said something that angered Professor Kaveh. Professor Kaveh, unable to let the insult slide, decided to take revenge by interrupting his precious class time. A prediction goes around that in less than ten seconds, Professor Alhaitham will proceed to offend Professor Kaveh even more with a tactless comment, which will lead to Professor Kaveh and Professor Alhaitham murdering each other. The whole class will walk out today without needing to write the test, having been traumatized by the tragic demise of the two professors. It is not a very pleasant line of thought, but it is sadly the only logical outcome.

In which everyone is convinced Professor Alhaitham and Professor Kaveh are sworn enemies, unaware that their relationship isn’t at all what it seems.

the kübler-ross model on romance by luminvies (T, 10.8k)

Kaveh smiles up at the stranger. "Sorry, he's right! I am taken. By him. But he doesn't know it yet." What. "Wait, what did you mean by that?" Al-Haitham asks faintly. "Oh, that?" Kaveh scoffs. "You're a little dense. Obviously, I meant exactly what I said. I wouldn't want to be kept by anybody but you." "But we are—" Al-Haitham trips over his words, trailing behind Kaveh as he walks purposefully through the city. "We aren't. Together. Neither of us has confirmed anything of the sort." Kaveh gives him a derisory look. "And what, we don't act like it? Some things don't have to be put into words to be understood. Ah, I forgot. Haravatat. You probably wouldn't accept anything else any other way." "It is not logical to make assumptions without empirical evidence." "You scholarly types," Kaveh mutters. "Always so particular."

So. Al-Haitham is in love with Kaveh. This has got to be somebody's fault.

Cue the five stages of grief.

The Fall by heartslogos (M, 131k)

In the third generation of Lord Sangemah Bays when all is but a dream, Lord Kusanali, from their divine seat in the Sanctuary of Surasthana stirs and reaches their hands to the sky. They arrange their fingers to capture a square of sky, humming and singing to themselves as they put the patch of star and moon and cloud through the divine calculus before they translate it into the tongues of men to be made knowable, and perhaps even understandable — and with great fortune, actionable. “Summon the court,” Lord Kusanali says, “The Third Face of God has spoken. Hear the Word through me and make your peace. For the God Kings only ever speak thrice on any given subject.” The court of Sumeru crowds the Sanctuary of Surasthana. “That which waits in the Palace of Alcazarzaray can only be absolved through a union of souls and an exchange of hearts, a lifelong journey that ends only in death.” Lord Kusanali translates. And then, beatific, “What you need is a wedding.”

set alight by celestialfics (T, 2.3k)

Since he was young, Alhaitham has followed a self-imposed, unspoken rule not to touch other people unless strictly necessary. Over the years, there have been two exceptions. One was his grandmother, whose side he would cling to as she read him books on the living room couch. She would pet his hair, and he’d lean into the touch, not unlike a kitten blissfully being groomed by its mother. The other exception was an Akademiya upperclassman named Kaveh.

transparent night by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (G, 9.4k)

“Sir, kindly do not obstruct us,” says the matra sharply. “We are in the midst of carrying out an arrest.” “An arrest?” repeats Kaveh, incredulously. “You’re arresting him? You’re arresting him? Why, what in Teyvat has he done?” The Archon Rescue Operation is going as smoothly as it possibly can — that is, until Kaveh returns prematurely from his desert trip, and runs into Alhaitham at the absolute worst possible moment. Of course he would.

this is what happens in the absence of small-talk by pencanze (T, 17k)

Haitham and Kaveh, whose travels are leading them in opposite directions, meet as strangers in a caravanserai—a travelers’ guest house. Because even opposite directions have a point of intersection or overlap, don’t they? Some might even call that point a headfirst collision. And another thing about opposite directions: they still run in parallel, even long after they’ve crossed.

trishna by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (T, 8.2k)

Down the seventh-floor passage in Vahumana, past the statue of the sage Zolfikar, and behind the third door from the left; inside a small, abandoned seminar room in the Sumeru Akademiya is a mirror cursed to show the viewer their heart’s deepest desire. Kaveh’s father smiles at him, slowly, so Kaveh can see it happen; the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and his eyes twinkle. He’s moving, alive. Kaveh hasn’t seen his father smile – not the expression itself, preserved in an old Kamera shot he kept in his sketchbook, but the very action of smiling – in almost ten years. An Alhaitham/Kaveh X Mirror of Erised AU

if they ask my gain from this world’s harvest by patchy (T, 16k)

In the silence that follows, Alhaitham seems to interpret the end of the conversation. He takes a step back into his bedroom and starts to shut the door. “I’ll pay you tomorrow,” Kaveh forces out, his voice cracking embarrassingly. The door pauses in its trajectory. Kaveh takes a deep breath. “But this is the last time,” he continues in a lower voice. “I’ll be out of your space by the end of the month.” Alhaitham pushes open the door.

The House, The Home, You and Me by sonotfine (G, 11.9k)

Alhaitham's books-hoarding situation continued to grow out of control. Kaveh magnanimously decided to offer to build a new house for him, with enough space for his ego and the books too. This was fine by Alhaitham. And, of course, he wanted it to be a house for two. -- On moving out of the old, moving on to the new, and moving forward together.

what it means to point true by luminvies (T, 9.8k)

It is biologically impossible for a man to replicate technological functions. As much as Kaveh (and colleagues) like calling Al-Haitham an index of niche and generally insignificant information on legs, he will never quite live up to the title. Here's a novel one: people must have taken to thinking of him as a human compass because they always seem to come to him when they're looking for Kaveh.

is that what I look like? by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (T, 3,8k)

Alhaitham grows a beard. Why? Who knows.

Three or Four (Or Possibly Five) Easy Steps to Living Harmoniously With Your Roommate by Bgtea (T, 28.7k)

The truth of the matter is, Kaveh has no idea how to read Alhaitham. He prides himself on being an expert at understanding people, his empathetic heart lending him the capacity to relate deeply with those around him (oftentimes to his detriment). But with Alhaitham, there is nothing for him to read; no clues from his cool expression for him to grasp. The man appears stoic all the time even during their petty bickering. Honestly, when was the last time Kaveh has seen the man do anything except smirk or frown? Does Alhaitham feel happiness? Has he ever seen the man laugh? Kaveh's mind is drawing a blank on the latter and it...bothers him deeply. -- Kaveh devises a plan to get Alhaitham to smile by being aggressively nice to the man (and also maybe if he makes Alhaitham happy, he can score a discount on his rent or something). Alhaitham thinks Kaveh ate some mind-altering mushrooms and is, understandably, confused and mildly afraid.

in weal and in woe by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (G, 26.7k)

“Oh, right – Alhaitham.” Kaveh claps a hand to his forehead. “Cyno, if you see him at the Akademiya tomorrow, don’t mention this to him, would you? I haven’t told him yet.”

“Told him?” Cyno asks slowly, a wary glint in his eye. “What exactly haven’t you told him?” “That I’m getting married,” Kaveh grimaces. “I wanted to tell him myself – I suppose I do want him at the wedding after all, you know – but I didn’t get a chance yet. You know what it’s like, trying to have a conversation with him.” It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. Kaveh is a single man. That's about it, really. or: the one in which Kaveh gets married, but not to whom you think.

the hypothetical shore by heartslogos (T, 10k)

When Al-Haitham was still a student in the Akademiya he wore his hair long. As long as Kaveh’s is now, perhaps a little longer than that, even. But unlike Kaveh's, Al-Haitham’s hair was just as quiet as he was, just as cool — like a stream of silver water, fresh from the mountain pass. To this day Kaveh remembers the exact moment he thought he might be falling in love with Al-Haitham and that, perhaps, it might not be such a terrible thing.

de insomniis by liyuen (M, 32k)

Kaveh and Alhaitham live together. Nothing ever happens. Nothing ever hurts. But sometimes, when Kaveh watches Nahida idly finish her homework, he gets the feeling that he’s forgetting something important.

Kaveh must have fallen asleep at his desk again, the morning light hitting his eyes like a slap. He blinked at the soft green blanket over his shoulders. When he stumbled into the hall, Alhaitham was sitting in the living quarters with his back to him, soundproof earpieces alit. He had a stupid moment where he wanted to call out to Alhaitham. What would he even say? ‘I’m having some trouble.’ ‘Is the blanket yours?’ ‘You were right, I’m in over my head.’ ‘Can you hear me out?’ ‘Help me. Please, help me.’ Stupid. He yawned and went to stumble his way to the kitchen. From his periphery, he thought he saw Alhaitham turn towards him with a look like he wanted to say something. But that, too, surely was just a very nice dream.

The Importance of Interruption by theSealby (T, 8.6k)

Years. It has been years, yet it could’ve been yesterday they were sitting side by side, thigh to thigh, eye to eye, filled with a contentment that their future selves have lost. Maybe it would be enough to have that again. Maybe correctness has no place here—has never been the ultimate goal between them—and Alhaitham finds himself asking a very different question than intended. “How would you like to come home?” ✥ Alhaitham loathes interruptions. (All except one).

To Dream in Shades of Green by Intensely_Reading (T, 55k)

“There are three suitors who you can romance in this game. You must complete all your requirements with one of them." “Who are the three potential suitors?” Kaveh asks warily. “Your three suitors are Tighnari, the blunt Palace Chamberlain; Cyno, the standoffish Captain of the Royal Guard; and Al-Haitham, the acerbic Duke of Vultur Volans.” There's a new invention from the Yae Publishing House that turns a user's dreams into light novel stories. Kaveh has the (un)fortunate pleasure of being one of its first users. Too bad it dumped him in a romance game.

The Theorem of Narrow Interests by lumielle (M, 36k)

Kaveh clicks his tongue. “Well, I hope you are also aware that with all these requirements, you don’t get a set (A+B), or even (A+B+C). Yours is a set comprised of the entire Sumerian alphabet!” Kaveh has had enough of Alhaitham always loitering around the house. In an attempt to get Alhaitham to go out more often, he jokingly tells him to start dating someone. Much to Kaveh’s shock, Alhaitham agrees—and promptly assigns him as his personal matchmaker. And even though Alhaitham’s requirements for his ideal partner are annoyingly specific, Kaveh refuses to back down from a good challenge. He’s confident in his abilities—that is, until his own feelings start getting in the way…

Precipice by viiparyas (M, 37k)

Lately, his heart staggers at a precipice, just one breath from toppling over. Into what, he doesn’t know. After everything, after everything… He can’t help but melt easily into the intimacy between them, whether it’s by his design or not.

Kaveh has won fame and renown through Sumeru, witnessed the dissolution of a corrupt government, traveled from the trenches of homelessness to the pinnacles of a fairytale paradise. And yet something deep between his ribs screams, more, more, more.

or, Kaveh discovering what he truly wants and finally reaching for it. (Spoiler alert: it's Alhaitham)

nazar by pencanze (T, 13k)

It’s like they’re in a globed world of their own, trapped within a glazed bead. Shatterproof, soundproof, impregnable and unbreakable to anyone else—anyone besides themselves. (On superstitions, friendships, and other things that shatter.)

case study of the scribe by Jazer (T, 25.5k)

"The consequences of obtaining knowledge is the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. "

In which Alhaitham realizes that a peaceful existence does not have to mean a lonely one.

People keep coming to Al-Haitham when they want to know where Kaveh is. Al-Haitham would be lying if he said he didn't know why.

silviculture by sunsmasher (T, 13k)

Kaveh’s face is bright, young, flushed, freckled, happy. He’s wearing an Akademiya uniform and is as tall as the last time Alhaitham saw him (fifteen minutes ago) which means he’s an inch or two shorter than the last time Alhaitham saw him, because the uniform boots are heeled. He’s staring at Alhaitham with the aforementioned flush spreading like dye over the silk of his cheeks. “Kaveh,” Alhaitham says. “Don’t freak out. I believe I’ve been displaced in time.”

spitefully yours by luminvies (T, 6k)

Dear Al-Haitham, I propose that we meet this Friday at sundown on the southeast edge of the city bordering Avidya Forest. This is a marital engagement. Please come prepared with your sword at the ready. With spite, Kaveh Al-Haitham sets down the letter, letting out a long sigh. After all, isn’t the answer to dealing with domestic disputes not marriage? Isn’t that entirely contradictory to the issue?

Kaveh sends Al-Haitham martial summons to sort out their issues. Unfortunately, he makes a small error in the letter.

The Art of Misunderstanding by Anonymous (M, 7k)

"Kaveh didn't consider himself to be vain. Yet he was becoming increasingly, upsettingly aware that most associates would disagree. Vanity, by definition, refers to an inflated sense of self-importance and pride in oneself. A vain person may believe themselves to be the best in the room. They may find it absurd that all eyes do not fall on them the instant they make themselves known. A vain person may put themselves on a pedestal, believing themselves objectively skilled in their field. And though Kaveh had trust and confidence in himself as an artist, he was caught entirely off-guard to hear that others thought of him as vain." ------ AKA, Kaveh misunderstands when he overhears an upsetting conversation between old classmates. His assumption is that they are attacking his character and commenting on his personality. In reality, they're talking about his looks. Everyone picks up on it, save for Kaveh himself.

Illness, Drowning, and Other Minor Inconveniences by EulerIHKH (G, 11k)

Faced with a uniquely difficult client, Kaveh is reluctantly forced to look for help in the one architect he considers more capable than himself: his mother. But soon enough, the turmoil of Kaveh's personal life begins to seep into their professional correspondence, forcing him to reevaluate his career, relationships, and identity.

love haitham and kaveh....love these fics....so many talented writers...thank you authors <33 def missing a bunch bc my organization on ao3 is horrendous but i can update this or make another list at some point....also i would highly appreciate any recs tyy🙏

( + bonus not rec but self promo of a hkvh fic i tried my hand at writing last summer but never shared oops. here she is if you're intrigued

a comedy of errors (T, 6.7k) )

#haikaveh fic recs #kavetham fic recs #fic rec list #haikaveh #kavetham #genshin impact #this was so fun #if anything's incorrect like the summary or ratings please lmk!

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set-wingedwarrior · 5 months ago

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My most important sapphic ships post before Pride Month ends

What the title says, studying kept (and still keeps me) busy so we gotta go fast lol

Bumbleby (RWBY)

to the surprise of absolutely no one, they get first place (despite me not going in a particular order) because of reasons. They're perfect. Soulmates. Slowburn of all time. Yin and Yang. Eyes the color of each other's souls. Truest OTP to ever OTP in my book. ∞/10

Konosetsu (Negima!)

I already talked about them in their own post, this scene changed my life leading to my self-discovery and it still lives rent-free in my mind.

Kyosaya (Madoka Magica)

I'd also add MadoHomu but I'm trying to keep it to just one for each fandom. That said, they still make me mentally unwell. I love them, and I did for a long time now. I can't wait for the next movie to come out and suffer.

Ruby and Sapphire (Steven Universe)

These bitches had the first cartoon gay wedding and kiss DO I NEED TO SAY MORE???

Korrsami (Avatar)

Still down the queer cartoons making history path, these two made me insane back in the day because I still didn't understand I was queer and lots of sapphic couple were starting to appear in media, and I remember jokingly say how "lesbian ships were hauting me". All I can say now is "Thank you" lol. Anyway, they were incredibly important and all the people criticizing how little queerness there's in the show will never understand just how massive this scene was.

Catradora (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Friends to Enemies to back to Friends to Lovers. Iconic. I still want a movie with their adventures bringing magic back to the universe.

Hollstein (Carmilla)

My third beloved blonde with a cat gf ship. I miss this web-series every day. Also, Natasha Negovanlis played an immense role in my gay awakening.

Ellie and Riley (The Last of Us: Left Behind)

Ellie and Dina are adorable and I love them, BUT I just will never get over these two. That dlc fucked me up. (also, they're in the same category with Korrasami as "gay ships that hauted me before I realized I was queer" lol)

Lumity (The Owl House)

I remember starting this show feeling it as the successor of Steven Universe, at least to me. We could say that at level of mistreatment from its parent company, it defenitely surpassed it, but at least I'm glad I was right and we got Luz and Amity becoming canon. I love these two and not a day passes without me yelling at Disney for what it did to them.

Bubbline (Adventure Time)

I actually watched Adventure Time fully only recently, but I always loved them even when I watched the show randomly when it appeared in tv back in the day. Getting to see the progression properly just made me love them even more.

Yasammy (Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous/Chaos Theory)

Incredibly recent addition, but I am so glad that I checked out Camp Cretaceous and got into it. It's a nice show and these two are a really cute couple, their confession and especially Yaz's internal turmoil were just so on point. I was really happy to see them go still strong in Chaos Theory, and I can't wait for next season.

Pricefield (Life is Strange)

These two caused me pain in the best possible way. I felt literal heartbreak at the Bay Ending, and I was just as emotional at the Bae one (Bae > Bay Forever) I hope the new game will respect their relationship OR ELSE.

Wow, this is quite the list. I do have an amazing taste, if I do say so myself, ahah!

Well, I guess this is it for now, glad I could make it before Pride Month was over! Knowing myself I might have actually forgotten some though, so keep an eye out for possible updates (what makes me even think that you'd care? lol).

That would be all, be gay and do crimes! Bye!

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stellayuta · 5 months ago

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Love on The Grid - Formula 1 AU! Yuta Okkotsu - Pt 1.

synopsis: One-night stands were nothing but a necessary painkiller for your inability to cross paths with true love. Your most recent find at a Vegas Club was no different. He was boring, obedient, SLOW! You leave him high and hanging hoping you'd never see him again until you find yourself gawking at a supersized billboard of him on a Vegas highway with the title 'LEGEND RETURNS TO VEGAS'.

genre: smut

content: 18+ only. Formula one driver! Yuta x f! reader, nasty intercourse and everything it includes, swearing, unprotected sex, use of alcohol. and a lot, lot, lot of s*xy stuff(like it's everything, a long list, so not gonna write it), reader is downright filthy ngl

word count: 2.8k

a/n: Ah this is my dream come true and this is totally to feed into my fantasies Dx

WARNING: always use protection!

"A bit to the right." you gasp, biting your lips but unable to hold on for long enough to make way for an uncontrollable moan.

"Ah, fuck! How are you so good at this! I thought you were a virgin?" You gasp, coming on his face with a squeal and taking some minutes to put your dazzled mind back into order. You sit up and clear your throat while the man appears from under the blanket and your thighs, face slick and shining with fluid. You gulp at the sight.

"What made you think I was a virgin?" He asks, smiling at you kindly, as if he didn't just devour your pussy.

"I don't know... really." You say, running a hand through your tousled hair, picturing how you two first met. It was a rave night at one of Las Vegas' upscale clubs. You and two of your friends happened to be bar hopping and ended up there at the recommendation of a previous bar's bartender. This club happened to be hosting a major celebration for an event that took place in Vegas that night and it was filled with howling men and skimpily dressed women, dancing to the heavy bass and vibing through the strobe-rainbow lasers. This was exactly your type of place.

"Tonight's your night Y/N." One of your friends cheered while the other made a tiger claw impression at you. "Go get em' tiger!"

You let your girls handle the drink orders and in a half-high state, wandered through the crowd, trying to look for men to chat up. That's where you saw this man, tucked away into a comfortable corner, with what looked like a nice orangey cocktail in hand. He was surrounded by a few men chatting with some very eager women, but he didn't partake in the conversation. That man was going to be your lay today, you had decided.

You cut through the dazed crowd and approach their group with your martini in hand.

"Hi there, got room for one more?" you say charmingly, the other men smiling encouragingly at you and the women smiling apprehensively. The men are clearly better looking, taller, with posher clothing than the wallflower hiding behind them, but the women can have these men.

"Oh, hey you!" you call out to the man, and he looks at his peers before making eye contact with you.

"Yeah, you." you pout at him. "Come out, I need a partner, I love this music." you reach for his hand, and he takes it hesitantly. You see the girls relax a bit as you seem to have chosen the worst pick of the group instead of the shiny men but you're happy to excuse yourself from their company and take your new arm candy to the dance floor.

"You frequent this place?" you ask the man, in order to break some ice. You have no interest in knowing his name.

"Well, I'm just visiting." He replies shortly, training his gaze to be glued to the dance floor. So, it'll be a challenge.

"Want some of this?" you ask, offering your drink.

"Nah, I'm on a cut, sorry." he replies. You give him a sharp smile trying to mask your immense irritation.

"Why the fuck are you in a club then?" you ask, discarding your martini on one of the drink tables and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, staring into his eyes. You catch a glimpse of his drink it may as well be orange juice for all you know now.

"Well, I -"

"Actually, never mind, don't answer that. Do you have a girlfriend?" you get to the point now. Because if he does, you're going to back off.

"Um, sorry, I don't." He says, confused. He stands absolutely still as everyone around him including you continue to groove to the music.

"Well, if you don't like drinking or dancing..." you smirk at him. "Want to do something more fun?"

You were almost certain this lad would say no but to your immense positive astonishment he agrees, cupping your waist and dragging you out of the club. The rest was history.

*****

"Anyway," you say, eyeing the rising sun out of the window blinds of this random hotel room of a random hotel he picked out. It had been a long night and the two of you had been going at it like rabbits. You started near the doorway with him pounding into you from behind. After you came once, you made him pull out and got down on your knees, sucking him off like a thirsty wreck. Then you had a round in the bathtub of the suite with you on top of him. He wasn't limp yet, so you got on top of him on the toilet again and bounced your way till his climax.

He still wasn't done because you ended up on the bed and he decided it would be a good idea to eat you out. You're just glad none of you were drunk out of your minds and everything happened consensually. He had an amazing dick, perfect girth and just long enough with a wicked curve, it's a pity you'd have to let it go today. Yet, you can't help but eye it hopelessly as it hung limp in front of you, almost begging you to caress it again.

"Aww you little-" You coo at his dick, reaching out in front of you to take it in your hands. You feel its weight and its fleshy texture and relish it. "I just can't leave it alone." you tell his soft length as he smiles at you.

That was one good thing about this guy. He didn't say awkward things. He was to the point, very kind in his after care, naughty but not excessively and oh my god are his groans out of this world. He is a looker too. I couldn't tell in the horrendous lighting of the club but now with steady lighting and even in the majestic rays of the rising sun, this man looks hot as hell.

You slump down to take his warm cock into your mouth gratefully and start sucking on it, feeling the length gradually increase and harden inside your mouth.

"Mmm.." you hum and grab a hold of his ball sack and fondle them, not wanting them to feel left out from the action.

You pay special attention to the underside of his cock as he grabs a hold of your hair with his shivering hands and makes you sink down on his length till it hits the back of your throat.

yummy.

You let his cock feel the merciless squeeze of your throat cavity as you go cross eyed from the sensation of being used like this. You moan and hum some more to add to his pleasure and grab a hold of his thighs with force. You look up at him with teary eyes to give him the green signal to let go and with a gasp, he looks up.

You are able to appreciate how thick and veiny his neck is as his seed paints your inner throat white, shooting warm liquid down your throat. He keeps thrusting and doesn't stop until his balls are dried out. You keep his limpening dick in your mouth for a while longer, collecting some of the cum in your mouth, intending to play with it for a bit when he pulls out.

"God. Just wow." He says after leaving your mouth as he watches you blow bubbles with his cum and let it drip down your lips only to scoop it with your fingers and force it back into your mouth.

"Shit. You'll make me hard again."

You blow a big bubble from his cum and wait for it to pop before speaking.

"Why, you're turned on again?" you ask, with half lidded eyes.

"Can you tell me your name?" He asks hopefully. Does he want this to be something? does he want more of you?

Well, he ain't getting any.

"Mouth's full." You reply teasingly, dodging his question and grinning with your teeth covered in his cum.

Your conversation is suddenly interrupted though by a long beeping noise coming out of your digital watch and you check the time.

6:15AM.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

The man sees your mouth form a big O as you stare bleary eyed at your watch, the cumming almost dripping out of your mouth. At this point he felt it was ridiculous you hadn't swallowed yet, nasty.

But swallow you did, and very quickly. You moved with such pace that it was a blur in front of him... and he had seen many fast things in his life.

"I-I'm sorry." you say, pulling your pants on and buttoning up your shirt. You opt to leave your bra and panties; he can have them for all his good work.

"I gotta go!" you say.

"Hey wait! At least tell me your name... or your number, anything!" He pleads. You make the mistake of turning back to look at him. Blushed, with sleepy eyes and puffy lips, locks of dark hair falling beautifully on his delicate face. He looked so vulnerable and needy that you almost feel bad, but your boundaries were clear from the start.

This vegas trip was your medicine to heal from a broken heart. You weren't going to leech on to someone emotionally again. Never!

"Looks like our time here ends..." you say, trying to sound as sorry as possible.

"I don't know if I'll ever meet you again baby boy, but hey! you made me cum. That's brownie points!" you smile at him encouragingly before fleeing from the hotel room with your phone, wallet, and no underwear.

You take quick steps in your kitten heals and head for the receptionist's desk, hoping and praying that here is no white goo on your teeth. First, you locate where this damn hotel is and next, you ask for a pharmacy which luckily, they happen to have.

You book your cab as your Plan B and water bottle gets billed. You check your clock again. 6:23AM.

Ahhhh!!!

You urge the cab drive to max out on his speed and he tries his level best to achieve super-car levels of pace while you down your plan-b. You make it to the hotel you and your friends were staying in just in time and only get 30 seconds to yourself to wash your wrecked face before you have to hop on to your work meeting on your laptop.

"Hey guys, how's it going? Everyone ready for today's standup?"

As a Principle Software Developer at a Megacorp, it's hard to take days off for Las Vegas on demand, at a short notice. Work from home was the only negotiation.

You grind for the rest of the morning and a large part of the afternoon as your friends and their boyfriends wake up from their sleep at their own pace, ask you about where you've been and grab some lunch for all of you. They have a lot of questions to ask but you're willing to answer absolutely none.

Once you're finally done with the day's work, the sun is beginning to set, and you take a minute to meditate and finally retire to the shower. This is the first time since yesterday morning that you truly have a chance to clean yourself thoroughly and to think clearly.

What were you thinking?

The reality of the situation drones in on you as the unforgiving cold droplets assault your skin. You still feel his dick on your tongue, his cum clumped in your throat, his veiny neck, his firm arms on your hips, his legs intertwined with yours.

God, what did you do?

This is... this is all Megumi's fault. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be this broken today.

You let a few tears slip out in the gracious masking of the shower.

When you finally emerge fresh, your friends are waiting for you.

"We're going out!" your friend, Momo, exclaims.

"What? Where?" you ask. There were no plans for today.

"Well Noritoshi here wants to see one his fancy car races. Apparently, they do that in Vegas. There's a track and everything." your friend explains as her boyfriend, Noritoshi nods in excitement.

"It's Formula One, Momo! I have been dying to see one race live, at the circuit." He mumbles, more to himself than to us. "Initially, I only booked the tickets for Momo and me but I was able to get three free ones!"

"You guys can come along if you want to." Momo tells me and my other friend, Miwa and her boyfriend, Kokichi.

We all look at each other and before I can protest, they say yes on my behalf too.

Motorsports huh. I've heard of it yes. Though I appreciate a good quality car, I have never been a fan of racing as a sport. Isn't it a rich people exclusive anyway? I mentally scoff at the thought of my cheering on from the stands at a circuit and definitely catch Miwa narrowing her eyes at my expression.

"Dress up well. The crowds are all bigshots." Kokichi tells Miwa. "Not that you don't always look good, babe."

"Oh stop you!" Miwa blushes, putting her cheek on Kokichi's shoulder.

Ugh couples.

All of us get dressed to the best of our abilities with Noritoshi absolutely decking himself out in his formula one merch. He is wearing a teal accented and black leather bomber jacket with the words "Mercedes" stamped on it. He also carries a cute little plushie of what I assume is a current driver. The plushie looks soft and limp just like...

I widen my eyes in lieu of publicly slapping myself. Fucking. Get over it. Y/N!

Kokichi eyes the plushie with disgust.

"Bruh come on. Him, really?"

Noritoshi isn't having it though. "He's one of the greats. If you don't believe it, you're in denial. Thank you very much."

"He's not as great as my man Geto Suguru. The beast in his Red Bull!"

"Suguru, that ass? He's a cheat and you know it-" Noritoshi wants to continue but Momo stops him.

"We're getting late! Let's get going." The five of us leave the hobby and hop into our convertible (Kokichi won't let us rent anything else).

Kokichi drives, with Miwa in the shotgun handling the music. Momo, the shortest sits in the middle with Noritoshi to the right, making sure the tickets and everything else is in place. I am in the left, zoning out, happy to look at the twinkling lights of evening Vegas. This city is like an anti-depressant. Fast acting and temporary.

"Hey, Y/N." Momo suddenly pulls on my arm.

"Mhm?" I ask, keeping my eyes shut.

"How was it last night? With that guy you went off with?" She asks, curious.

"Don't wanna talk about it." I admit. Because I will then never stop thinking about his stupid dick.

"You will have to tell me some day!" She yells in a hushed voice.

"Not that I'll ever see him again, Momo." I remind her.

"You didn't even get his number?" She prods.

"Nah."

"Okay what's his name?"

"...."

"You can't be seriously, Y/N!"

I raise my hand to shut her up for a bit. I don't want to have this conversation after a long night of fucking and a long day of work.

Miwa must be forgetting why I came on the trip because she starts vibing to some slow, romantic song, holding Kokichi's hand as I try to play deaf. I place my head on my folded hands atop the window, gazing out at the passing light poles on the highway, in front of a pinky-purple sky. The sunset today is ethereal.

I almost begin to hear Megumi's voice in my head when Noritoshi suddenly laughs out, holding his plushie in the sky.

"Kokichi, would you look at that!" He says sarcastically pointing in a direction which makes us all turn our heads.

I follow his line of sight and spot a huge billboard approach us. It is so massive that I can clearly see what's on it from like half a mile away. It is made to stand out with blue and teal led lights framing it.

What catches my eye isn't the billboard decoration though. It's what's on it.

I nearly let out a choking sound but catch myself just in time.

On the billboard, larger than life is the human version of Noritoshi's plushie, clad in black and teal with a shining helmet in hand and standing proudly in front of his wicked Mercedes accompanied by the tagline which Noritoshi chants now.

"The Legend of Vegas returns to conquer for the Third Time! KING Yuta Okkotsu!"

Continued here in Part 2

Your likes, comments and reblogs really encourage me to write more! So do interact with this post and let me know your thoughts 🧡

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cooking-with-hailstones · 6 months ago

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Statistical analysis of the most popular A:TLA fics on AO3

(All of this is accurate as of May 27 2024)

I like numbers and statistical analysis and for some unfathomable reason I find it calming. So last night I made this spreadsheet!

DISCLAIMER: This is not a judgement of the quality, value, or merits of any of the fics on this list. It's just me being curious about what's popular with the A:TLA fandom on AO3. I was genuinely surprised at some of the results!

Observations and analysis under the cut:

TL:DR, the fandom fucking loves putting Zuko into Situations.

Methodology: I'm including all fics from the first page of results from the most kudos'd, commented, hits, and bookmarks tagged under the Avatar: The Last Airbender (cartoon, 2005) tag on ao3. I am deliberately not including any larger multifandom flash fiction or drabble collections because I don't think they're super relevant. This ended up including 38 fics in total.

I put all the fics into one single spreadsheet in order to compare the differences between fics that are really high on the kudos count but not the hit count, or what has a lot of comments but fewer hits. Basically, I'm throwing a lot of things together to observe what gets engagement and looking at patterns that emerge!

Top 5 most popular fics by hit count:

Salvage - MuffinLance

Fractures - EvieNyx

Embers- Vathara

Towards the Sun - MuffinLance

The Art Of Burning - hella1975

Max: 1,407,170 (Salvage -MuffinLance)

Min: 78,168 (Risking it all - Sreeder)

Average: 349,442

Top 5 most popular fics by kudos count:

Salvage - MuffinLance

The Family You Choose - TunaFishChris

where the stars do not take sides - WitchofEndor

Fractures - EvieNyx

The beginning of a new and brighter birth - aloneintherain

Max: 59,947 (Salvage - MuffinLance)

Min: 3293 (Risking it all - Sreeder)

Average: 19,868

Top 5 most popular fics by number of comments:

The Art Of Burning - hella1975

Salvage - MuffinLance

Fractures - EvieNyx

Towards the Sun - MuffinLance

War Games - Lovely_Elbow_Leech

Max: 13,469 (The Art Of Burning - hella1975)

Min: 358 (Hallowed - Haircrescendo)

Average: 3634

Top 5 most popular fics by number of bookmarks:

absence of heat, excess of destiny - theycallmesuperboy

Salvage - MuffinLance

where the stars do not take sides - WitchofEndor

The Family You Choose - TunaFishChris

The beginning of a new and brighter birth - aloneintherain

Max: 150,317 (absence of heat - theycallmesuperboy)

Min: 430 (Risking it all - Sreeder)

Average: 9297

Highest kudos/hit ratio: Safety First - Haircrescendo (20.36%)

Lowest kudos/hit ratio: My Heart Burns For You - alwaysZutarian (0.89%)

Average kudos/hit ratio: 8.25%

Fic Ratings:

G: 9

T: 18

M: 6

E: 2

Unrated: 3

Popular authors (people who showed up more than once):

Aloneintherain (3)

Haircrescendo (5)

MuffinLance (4)

WitchofEndor (2)

Characters:

Literally all of these fics are Zuko-centric. Not all of them are Zuko-pov but every. single. one. focuses on Zuko as a main character. At least one of the following tags is on every single fic in this list: "The Gaang & Zuko", "Zuko & Zuko's Crew", "Zuko & Iroh" "Zuko & Azula" and "Zuko & [insert gaang member here]"

Relationships:

Ok this is what actually shocked me the most. I fully expected to see more Kataang, Zutara, etc in the top rated fics, but NO! Only 21 out of the 38 fics had any relationship slash tag, and of those, 20/21 were Sokka/Zuko (shoutout to My Heart Burns For You as the token Zutara fic to make it into this list). I did NOT realize Zukka was so popular! Now I'm super curious about what it would be like to run these numbers on FF.net because I know so much A:tla fanfic was written before ao3 existed and most hasn't been cross-posted, and Zukka wasn't a popular ship until more recently.

Other random observations:

There seems to be a pretty even split between post-canon firelord Zuko fics and canon-divergent "Zuko joins the Gaang early" fics.

Only one modern au as far as I could tell! (shoutout to "The Good Vanilla")

We all seem to love a Dadkoda fic

There is a very strong correlation between one-shots and a high kudos/hit ratio.

Seemingly no correlation between word count and number of kudos. The top kudos'd stories were mostly under 10k words, while all the other catergories were dominated by fics in the 100k+ word count.

I didn't really see much correlation between hits, kudos, and comments overall.

There were LOTS of fics that only showed up in one category, which was really interesting! I figured each list would look pretty much the same, and there were several fics that did show up on the front page of every category (Salvage definitely sweeps the board for overall most popular fic), but there was a lot of variation between each list! Some fics had TONS of hits but very few comments, some had truly wild kudos/hit ratios, some were just massively bookmarked.

Thank you for indulging in my nerdiness, and feel free to tell me what I missed or anything you're curious about!

Update: I did it again, this time with Legend of Zelda

#ao3 #a:tla #avatar the last airbender #fanfiction #ao3 stats #archive of our own #zukka #zuko #atla fanfiction #did you know that when I get stressed or overwhelmed by life events #i apparently find organizing and numbers and spreadsheets very soothing #i don't know what this says about me #atla ao3 #sokka/zuko #muffinlance #witchofendor #aloneintherain #haircrescendo #Emily talks

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tj-dragonblade · 3 months ago

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[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

#TJs Fics #Dreamling #Sandman #Dreamling Bingo 2024

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themyscirah · 3 months ago

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What runs/stories do you recommend for someone starting WW? Could you please be specific (/nicely)

Yeah ofc!

My Wonder Woman Starter Recs (specific style 😎)

First stops: for an initial introduction to Wonder Woman, I'd generally recommend going to at least one of three places first. These three are:

Wonder Woman: Historia: The Amazons by Kelly Sue DeConnick

Wonder Woman: Year One by Greg Rucka

Wonder Woman: the Hiketeia by Greg Rucka

Of these I generally recommend reading Historia first, as it's a retelling of the origin of the Amazons as a race and how Diana came to be (so it essentially starts from the beginning) and is also the most recent of the them (if that means anything). Something to note about Historia though is that it's a DC Black Label book, so it's events aren't strictly canon in the main DCU and there are some changes and new elements present. I don't think this is something that should discourage anyone from reading it though, it's the best WW origin story out there, and even in strict main canon over the years her origin is one that has had many fluctuations and small (& sometimes big) changes. WW:Historia is three prestige format (longer) issues.

You'll notice the third book there is WW: The Hiketeia. Hiketeia is a great book if you're looking for a view into Diana as a professional and experienced hero. It's a graphic novel so standalone and not too long, and has a great Diana and really interesting plot (Diana vows to protect a young woman and finds herself pressed against the wheels of Greek Tragedy). This is also the first work with Diana done by Greg Rucka, one of her most prolific and loved writers. A sampling of this work (and also Historia) I think gives a good guide to where to go next in terms of runs on her main title.

Wonder Woman: Year One is the second book on the list up there, but I'm mentioning it last here as it's a bit more complicated in terms of format. Unlike other year one books, WW: Year One is actually a series of issues on her main title, showcasing Diana's arrival to man's world in Rebirth (and also current p sure) continuity. The issue numbering for this one is strange (only the even issues 2-14 on WW (2016)) so I recommend looking for this in trade form if possible.

These 3 books I think give a taste of some of the best standalone stuff in the Wonder Woman mythos, and give the reader a good idea of where they may want to go next in terms of longer runs on the title. So I'll break that down here as a Step 2.

STEP 2: WHERE NEXT?

Here I break down some highly recommended runs based on what they have in common with the standalone books from step 1. As a rule, these runs are going to be much longer than the above and generally more connected to the wider DCU and other books. Look for the italics to see the introduction to each new work. Explanation paragraphs follow after each italic/bold rec.

Curious about Greek mythology in WW and the Amazons' origins after reading Historia? Liked the prescence of a supporting cast and Diana learning about Man's World from Year One? Willing to read a longer run? I recommend: Wonder Woman by George Pérez

George Pérez's time on Wonder Woman totally reinvented the character after Crisis on Infinite Earths, and is fundamental in establishing many core concepts of her lore. At 62 issues, 2 annuals, and a 4-issue crossover event at the end (War of the Gods), it's definitely a commitment to read, but it's the most enduring and well-loved run on Wonder Woman for a reason--it's just that damn good. Lots of focus on mythology (although with a lighter tone than Historia) alongside Diana learning her role in relation to Man's World & establishing herself as a hero and ambassador. Pérez's run also has almost-certainly the most expansive and developed supporting cast in WW comics, something that really drives the emotional core of the series, especially in later issues. Obligatory note that this series was written between 1987 and 1992 and contains some very occasional aspects that I thought were in some way dated/uncomfortable etc. while reading (details of Cheetah's origin, depiction of the Bana-Mighdall, Hercules) but despite that I still highly, highly recommend this run. The word fundamental cannot begin to describe it.

Liked the experienced Diana of the Hiketeia? Interested to see her attempt to balance the high stakes responsibilities of an ambassador and superhero? Looking for some really badass moments and fights? Haven't read enough terrible tragedy? I suggest: Wonder Woman by Greg Rucka 2003 EDITION.

Some of Diana's coolest moments of all time are collected here. Also one of her most controversial. The 1st Rucka run is very much the story for anyone who liked the Diana of the Hiketeia and the tragedy of that and Historia. 2003 Rucka Diana is a Diana tested, forced to make decisions that are anything but easy, and live with the consequences. She's extraordinarily capable, but her enemies know that and are prepared to that end. This run, along with the Pérez run, rank among my favorite Wondy comics of all time (those and Historia are my top 3). This run is such peak Diana, especially in terms of sheer badassery. Her final confrontation with Medusa is in my opinion perhaps the greatest Wonder Woman fight scene of all time. Her encounter with Athena in the second-to-last issue breaks me every time. Cannot recommend this book more.

*a note abt this run is that it is more context-dependent than the other ones listed here, as it's the run that finishes out the Wonder Woman vol. 2 book and so has some guest appearances from characters introduced in other prior runs (Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, Cassie Sandsmark, and Vanessa Kapatelis, to name a few). I read this run before knowing much (if anything) about any of them, and still enjoyed it a lot, so I wouldn't be worried about this really but just thought I'd mention it.

Rucka's 2003 run is published from Wonder Woman (1987) #195-226. You can also find it in trade and I believe(?) omnibus. Sometimes the Hiketeia is included in collections of this series, as the 03 run is thematically similar in many places, just with a much deeper look at Diana and the world & with higher stakes.

Liked the specific characters and plot threads of Wonder Woman: Year One? Want to see what happens with Diana's exile, or learn more about Barbara Ann? Want a Diana in between the extremes of young and highly experienced? Wonder Woman by Greg Rucka 2016 EDITION may be for you.

...yes I'm putting ANOTHER Rucka book on here. He writes a great Diana, what can I say. This run is the same one that Year One came out of, just the follow ups to that story and versions of the characters. I have this run listed as separate from Year One though, as there's some really big time skips since the events of that first volume. A lot of time has passed since then, and there's more history between the characters, not all of it without drama. This run continues to be weird with the numbering, as well as some artist changes, so I definitely recommend looking into reading this in trade format (physical or digital) if at all possible. My recommended reading order is WW 2016 by Rucka vol. 2 "The Lies" (Wonder Woman: Rebirth Special #1, followed by 2016 main title odd numbered issues 1-11), then Rucka 16 vol. 3 "The Truth" (odds 13-23) then Godwatch (evens 16 through 24) followed by 25? But The Truth and Godwatch combine near the end so that doesn't really work either. This run is so good but recommending it is such a pain because the numbering is so all over the place. On God I never know which order to read this in. Going to revoke my previous statement and say read it as Rebirth Special 1, then only odds 1 through 11, then from 13 through 25 normally. That may lead to some weirdness as you read because the two stories take place at different times and have different art styles, but they come together at the end pretty dramatically so I think it's less confusing to read it this way? Maybe? So strange bc this is one of the go to good starter runs and yet it's set up so unintuitively. If someone has a better way to read this then let me know and ill edit, ik this explanation is super confusing bc neither way to read it is totally ideal imo and I feel I definitely read it in a weird order.

Going to call that a good rundown of some of my greatest recommendations in terms of Wonder Woman comics. If anything wasn't fully clear here or anyone (not just anon) has questions or wants to talk abt WW comics/my choices feel free to send as many asks or dms as you want. Have a good day everybody, & as Diana says, may the glory of Gaea be with you <3

#slept on this post for longer than i wanted to but yeah 👍#ive got to go to bed now but this is how id do it #start w the great minis/short ones and then follow your favorite themes into the amazing longer runs #also ik there are some stuff ive seen recommended a lot that arent here. (namely the simone run and legend of ww by liz denae(?) but thats #bc i havent read them yet. also even if so idk if id send them rhere first when this exists #theres sooooooo much rucka on here to be so honest but i dont apologize. there for a reason #also didnt mention the other 2 runs i see starter recommended all the time which is nu52 and tom king bc uh no <3. we dont do that here.#yeah theyre easy to jump on bc they both start with 1 but theyre not a good representation of diana the amazons or why people like diana. or #in tk's case theyre just kind of mid/bad and weird.#idk. not worth mentioning so i didnt #anon if this isnt specific enough for you feel free to follow up. especially about the rucka 2016 because that one is weird with the reading #order and i think i only made it more confusing w my explanation there #diana of themyscira #reading guides #answered

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coichii · 5 months ago

Text

WITH HIM - SEUNGMIN

pairing - englishstudent!seungmin ♥︎ medstudent!genneutral!reader

genre: fluff, college au 📚

word count: 0.4k

warnings: nun specific !

A/N : hellooo! got some random college au inspo in the middle of summer for some reason so here u go >:)

“Baby, you keep yawning, go to sleep” seungmin whispers, looking down at you.

You recently came back from a long shift, shadowing a doctor for the better half of 10 hours. It was exhausting. The multitude of patients you looked over, the amount of body fluid you were exposed to that you swore you got over, and much much more. The only thought present being returning home and cuddling up with your loving boyfriend.

That thought was pushed off though, needing to wait an entire 3 more hours and a 45 minute drive through heaving traffic and crappy drivers.

You sighed heavily as you returned home, walking in and placing down your bag.

You began walking around the apartment, searching for the one man that knew how to make you feel better, smiling as you found him.

Seungmin laid lazily, sprawled out on the couch reading some book you were to lazy to read the title of. You didn’t even greet him as you plopped yourself on his stomach, wrapping your arms around his warm body.

Immediately, Seungmin realized that you were having one of those days. One of those days where you just wanted to be comforted and held. In response, he began to run your back while he continued to read, eliciting a satisfied sigh out of you.

It was then where you felt at home and safe, allowing yourself to relax in his presence.

“Mhmm, wanna stay up for you tho..” you mumbled, nestling your head farther into the crook of his neck

Seungmin recognized the way your voice drifted off at the end, proving your need of sleep.

“You have a long day tomorrow, classes at 10” he reminded you, continuing to rub your back.

You ignored the way you began fading in and out of sleep, nestling yourself even farther into your lovers body and mumbling in response.

Seungmin sighed, knowing that you were going to be stubborn as ever.

You felt his position around your body shift as he placed his book down on the nearby coffe table and begun to stand up, carrying you in his arms and walking towards your shared bedroom.

Seungmin brought you to the bed before laying you down and tucking you in. You heard shuffling around the room before you felt your boyfriend climb into bed with you, spooning you towards his chest.

At that moment, you felt all of the tension of the day melt with the warmth your boyfriend was providing you. All the thoughts of classes, finals, and exams were completely absent, replaced by thoughts of only him instead.

“I love you min” you mumbled, voice low.

Seungmin smiled to himself, spooning you even closer to him and shutting his eyes.

“I love you too, love”

back to master list

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids #straykids x reader #kpop #straykids x you #seungmin #skz fluff #seungmin x reader #kim seungmim #seungmin fluff #stray kids college au

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tiredsunrisesmeta · 11 months ago

Text

Dead Dove and Dark Heir: An Analysis

TW// incest, age gap relationships

I do think Dark Heir is a bit more subversive than most other YA titles. Obviously, we have the BDSM coded relationship between Will/Sarcean & James/Anharion. But I think it goes further than that because the books don't shy away from more taboo things in the way a lot of recent YA titles tend to. Namely, incest and age gap relations. Furthermore, I think its willingness to engage with these topics with nuance adds to the depth of its chatacters.

For example, Will and Katherine. We need to talk about them, lol. I think whether they're actually blood related or not is ultimately irrelevant because of one detail. Katherine looks a lot like the Lady, and the Lady looks a lot like Will's mother, Eleanor. So, from the very beginning, Will pursues someone who looks like his mother, or the woman who raised him at the very least (albeit abusively). He has ulterior motives for doing so, but there's no doubt he felt an attraction to Katherine, and Katherine definitely felt attraction for him. It's all very Freudian. And I think how Dark Heir handles this complicated blend of romantic attraction & familial connection is what sets it apart from some other YA works. It refuses to draw definitive lines between these two feelings within Will. Will doesn't even feel especially disgusted or anguished by his flirtation of someone who turned out to be his sister. He probably suspected it as he was flirting with her. It's weird, but one can say it's the natural consequence of Will being his own person but also being Sarcean at the same time. Will doesn't feel or react normally to these tangled up feelings because he's not normal.

Now for age gaps. There's a lot of examples, but the main ones are Tom & Devon, James & Simon, Will & Howell, Cyprian & Ettore, Visander & Sarcean. The books frame James and Simon very negatively. It was abuse, period even though Simon was never able to have James become his lover. But the way characters like Jannick and Cyprian, following his father's example, and some other Stewards frame it doesn't acknowledge the abuse & instead blames & shames James for the supposed "relationship." This is horrible in this case, of course, but I think it speaks to a relatively blasé, maybe even period typical view of relationships between teens/young men & older men that goes on to affect & complicate every relationship/interaction listed above, some in ways different than to how it affects James & Simon. But I will come back to James at the end of this, so put a pin in that.

With Tom & Devon, I don't think the book has especially condemned it or portrayed it as inherently abusive. Tom is an adult for one. But Devon is undoubtedly thousands of years older than him. There's an element of Devon not telling Tom everything that I think is hinted at. At the end of Dark Heir, Violet thinks that Tom is strangely ignorant about the bigger picture of what's going on. He only knows what he learned from his Dad & Sinclair. At least Violet thinks so. It makes one wonder why he doesn't seem to know more even though he's dating someone who knows so much more than even Sinclair. Perhaps this is a consequence of the age gap between Tom and Devon. I don't particularly think this must mean Devon is abusive for dating Tom. And he's not, imo, comparable to the Regent from Captive Prince. But I think Devon's walls are up, and it maybe benefits him to keep Tom in the dark about all that Devon knows. This is part of a pattern that these books follow when it comes to most of their age gap relationships. They're not summarily condemned, but rather they're complicated, and their dubious, more negative qualities are subtly hinted at.

Visander and Sarcean is one such complicated age gap relationship. Upon hearing about Will from Elizabeth, Visander thinks, "This time I am the man and you are the youth." Near the end of the book when Visander confronts Will he says, "You're the same age now as I was when you killed my family." So it appears that when Sarcean slept with Visander, Sarcean was an adult, and Visander was a young man of about 17. When Visander is first introduced in the story, Sarcean thinks of him as a "young man" and a "young guard" and a possible "dalliance, to pass the time." This imbalance is only enhanced when Sarcean later thinks of Visander as "a trifling, easy to fool." Visander was a youth in love, and Sarcean was a man looking for easy amusement. Visander later feels betrayed by Sarcean for apparently killing his family. He emphasizes that he had trusted Sarcean. Their age gap adds an uncomfortable layer to Sarcean's treatment of Visander and how it might have contributed to Visander's lasting hatred of him. A hatred that, in turn, has Visander trying to kill Will, or the Dark King as a youth, as Visander sees it. Their age gap has now been reversed, and taking advantage of Will's youth, much like Sarcean took advantage of Visander's youth, he will take this opportunity to kill Will. It's like a cycle. Again, the book does not explicitly go out of its way to condemn Sarcean sleeping with a young Visander. It simply adds complications and nuance to the characters & their relationship that the reader must interpret themselves.

Will and Captain Howell's interactions are similarly ambivalent and complicated. Will knowingly initiates the flirting between them, and he doesn't seem particularly afraid of Captain Howell's advances. But their power dynamic is switched when Will uses his power to control Howell. The scene plays out like a scene of sexual exploration and discovery. Will tells Howell "No, don't fight it, just let me", he says "you're mine already", and when Howell calls him Master will thinks "Yes" as "with a lurch, he was inside Captain Howell." In many ways, it mirrors the scene where James pushes his magic into Will to release Will's magic. The sexual subtext is inescapable. But Will taking control of Howell is framed as feeling empowering to Will. Will effectively flips the power script of a young man and an older man in a sexual encounter, which brings awareness to the fact that the script usually doesn't play out like this. Their interaction is further complicated when James sees Howell and Will and freaks out. I'll come back to this...

The last significant age gap "relationship" is Cyprian with Ettore. This relationship is more subtle with its sexual subtext, but it's there. Ettore teases & pokes at Cyprian. We later learn this is because Ettore is himself a Steward, and he sees himself and his past flaws in Cyprian. But some of Ettore's teasing takes on a sexual nature. First, when his men ask Cyprian for a kiss and Ettore himself says, "Rethinking that kiss?" Then, when Ettore invites Cyprian to watch him have sex with a prostitute, who he has dressed in a Steward's tunic. After, Ettore emerging from the bedroom soon after Cyprian, "ostentatiously tucking in his shirt" makes Cyprian flush because of the implications Ettore undoubtedly wanted to illicit. This teasing and mockery come to head when Ettore asks Cyprian to kneel and beg him for help. Cyprian acquiesces despite the burning humiliation of it. This is when James goes to Cyprian and tells him he didn't like watching Cyprian kneeling for Ettore.

James says it's because he doesn't like being reminded that Stewards can be selfless, but I think it goes deeper than that and connects with James's reaction to Will and Howell. James freaks out when he sees Will and Howell holding on to each other. He asks Will if Howell hurt him. James's fear here can easily be interpreted as a remnant of his experiences with Simon. James has been hurt & taken advantage of (nearly sexually) by an older man. So when he sees Will and Howell, his mind goes to the worst possibility first. Similarly, I would argue that James's discomfort with watching Cyprian kneeling for Ettore is similarly connected to his trauma with Simon & Sinclair. This connection is supported when, later in the book, as Sinclair tries to collar James, Sinclair orders James to kneel.

These are some of the ways Dark Heir uses more subversive and taboo subjects to add depth and subtext to its world and chatacters, without forcing the readers to see these subjects in only one way. The series, much like Pacat's other work, doesn't shy away from so-called Dead Dove subject matter. And I think that's a strength of the series.

#dark rise #dark heir #will kempen #sarcean #cyprian #visander #tom ballard #devon #ettore #james st clair

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just-wrting · 2 years ago

Text

Can't Take the Hint

Title: Can't Take the Hint

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: You're having a hard time rejecting guys, thankfully the one you're into helps you out.

Warnings: Creepy guy and smut

Word Count: 2,826

Master List

A/N: This was meant to have more scenes in it, but I've opted to save those ideas for another time. This is also only my third time writing smut so I hope it's not that bad.

“I don’t know Dave. Asking them out seems like a bad idea.”

You hear Hotch’s voice even through the closed door. You want to linger and listen, but there’s a new case. Instead, you knock gently on Rossi’s office door. Within a few seconds, it swings open and Hotch is standing in front of you.

“Garcia said she’s got a case and to come get you guys,” you say. “I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“No, we were just finishing up. In fact, I’ll walk with you if that’s okay?” Hotch moves toward you, and you back up.

“Sure. Though I hope you don’t mind if I borrow Rossi later. I have some guy trouble that I want his advice on.”

For a split second, he frowns. It’s so quick you think you’re imagining it. You study his face intently, wondering if it was just a trick of the light. There’s no reason that he would be upset about you having guy troubles. He’s just your boss, nothing more.

“Rossi’s advice may not be great, he does have multiple divorces. I could help you.”

“That’s actually why I’d like to talk to him about it. He’s gotten used to rejection.”

You give him a soft smile. He chuckles but doesn’t say anything. You know his offer still stands if you ever need to talk to him. He’s a great boss, and you’re grateful to him for being there for you when you need it.

You do your best to pay attention as Hotch and Garcia present your next case. A couple of bodies turned up in a forest on the west coast, and the local police had no idea how they got there. They all showed various stages of decay, indicating that they had been there for a different amount of time each.

“Well, the ME states the body that had been there the longest was there for about a year. Given that there are six bodies in that area that puts us at a murder every two months,” Emily says while placing her tablet down.

“So either he’s doing something to them that takes about two months, or he’s being extra careful.” Rossi rubs his chin.

Reid leans back in his chair. “Based on the ME’s report of the most recent body, he’s most likely torturing his victims for about a month.”

“Great. Cause that’s what we need to be doing, scouring the missing persons reports for a person that could be joining the body pile,” you groan.

Granted, Garcia is lightning-fast and great at sifting through things like that, but you still think it’ll take forever. This is shaping up to be one of those cases that just takes time. Time that you don’t have to be wasting on dead ends and possibilities.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch says, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Be prepared for long days.”

—

It’s been over an hour and everyone is just lost in thought. Occasionally someone will throw out an idea, but without doing more interviews and crime scene analysis, there isn’t much to discuss. You take the opportunity to slide into a seat across from Rossi.

“Mind if I ask you some stuff? Take your mind off the case for a second?” you ask. “I promise I’ll be quick.”

Rossi gives you a smile. “Sure thing, kid. What else is someone with as much wisdom as I, supposed to do?”

You relax muscles you didn’t realize were tense. “Besides helping others out, I’m not too sure. So there’s this guy, I see him all the time since he goes to the same breakfast place as I do, and he asked me out.”

Rossi nods. “And you aren’t sure if that’s a good choice?”

“Actually, I know it’s a bad choice. Since the day before I’d seen him with another girl. They’re obviously a thing so I told him no. The problem is that now he won’t leave me alone. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Rossi reaches out to grab your hand. He gives it a gentle squeeze and makes sure to look into your eyes.

“Kid, you didn’t do anything wrong. A man like that is just plain creepy and probably won’t take the hint until you tell him there’s another man you're with. If you need us to, I’m sure Hotch or Morgan will gladly help you play pretend to get him to leave you alone. We’re here to help each other.”

You slowly nod. You really didn’t think you’d actually encounter one of those guys that give off the same energy that serial stalkers have, but you did. Not to mention, it was while you weren't working.

“You’re right. I’ll give it some thought during the case, but for now, that’s what needs our attention. Let’s just hope things go better than they usually do.”

—

Things are not going better than they usually do. Hotch paired you with him and Morgan to go to the crime scene which wouldn’t have been an issue if it wasn’t for the constant drizzle that had started well before you had landed. Nothing says ‘a great day for a walk in the woods’ like rain.

You watch as an officer slips slowly down the hill to reach where the last body was found. The whole area was slick with mud. It’d probably be fun if you were a young boy in your own backyard but as an agent hoping to get an idea of what this dump site looked like in its horrible prime, not so fun.

The rain picks up and you duck under a tree. Hotch joins you while Morgan chuckles.

“I’ll go get the umbrellas from the SUV since you two must be made of sugar. Don’t start without me.”

Shortly after Morgan walks off, another officer approaches you. He sticks his hand out for you to shake.

“You must be Agent Hotchner and Agent (L/N),” he says while giving you a large smile. “Do you need an umbrella? I have one in the car.”

“Oh no thanks. Agent Morgan is returning with the ones he went to get. I can see him now.”

The officer’s smile wavers, but stays firm on his face. “Well, (L/N), I’m Officer Mike Morris. If you need anything, anything at all, let me know right away and I’ll help you.”

With that, the officer leaves. Hotch looks at you with an odd look on his face. You can’t quite place the emotion that’s behind his eyes.

“Here’s the umbrella. You two can share it because I’m not letting (L/N) pull me down into the mud.”

Morgan gets a head start down the hill. You watch him complete the task with ease, and you can’t help but be a bit envious. Sure you can take down grown men, but Morgan makes most physical feats look easy.

“(Y/N)?” Hotch’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You do know that if you need anything, both on the case and off the case, you can talk to me, right?”

His hand rests on your shoulder. You give him a smile and start to head down the slope.

“Of course. You’re my go-to person if I need something, Hotch. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

—

It’s the next day, and you’re sitting at the table staring down a pile of paper. It’s early in the morning, and you think you’d kill for a cup of coffee right about now. Unfortunately, you got up early and were one of the first in the office. That means that there was no coffee for you to have and you have to wait for some to brew.

A sudden knock on the doorway startles you. You whirl around to find Officer Mike Morris standing in the doorway.

“I see you’re into mornings, just like I am. Figured you would want a cup of coffee.”

He sets down a cup of lukewarm coffee. You watch as the liquid settles and realize that the color is off. It won’t taste the way you like it, but you do your best to take a sip. You’re right. It’s not how you’d like it.

“(Y/N)? You left early today so I brought you coffee and breakfast. I hope that’s okay.”

Hotch walks into the room holding a tray of coffee and a to-go bag. He briefly looks at Officer Morris before looking at you.

“Thanks! What did you get me?”

A soft smile spreads across Hotch’s face. He sets the coffee tray down and pulls one of the cups out. You carefully read the label on the cup. It’s made just the way you like. As you take a sip, you feel the caffeine send tingles to your brain and you start to wake up.

“And breakfast?”

Hotch pulls a muffin out of the bag and hands it to you. You're quite grateful for the snack. Nothing says FBI breakfast like coffee and a pastry.

“Thank Hotch. I got up pretty early so I didn’t have a chance of getting food.”

You bury your face back into the papers, ignoring the men. You can feel the tension in the room though. They seem to be locked in some sort of silent fight, over what you can’t tell. A fight over ruining your train of thought is possible, but you can’t imagine that making you useless was a great idea.

“Well, (L/N), I’ll see you later. Don't be a stranger,” Officer Morris says before leaving.

—

“Oh, I call shotgun!” You say as you open the passenger door.

Hotch slides into the driver's seat. “As long as you don’t touch the radio we’ll be fine.”

Before the two of you can leave the parking lot, there’s a knock on your window. Hotch is quick to lock the doors. You frown when you see it’s Officer Morris. He seems to be everywhere. If it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t fit the preliminary profile, you’d assume he was the unsub.

Rolling down the window, you ask, “ Was there something you needed, Officer Morris?”

“I heard you were headed to see the Willows and I figured I should come with. They’re grumpy and old so they don’t take well to strangers. I actually happen to know them quite well and am off duty now.”

You glance at Hotch, unsure of how you should shut Officer Morris down. Hotch’s mouth is drawn in a thin line and his eyes are cold. You can practically feel the irritation coming off him and you turn your gaze to the clock. Staring at the time seems like a better choice.

“I think (Y/N) and I will be fine. We’re both highly capable agents who’ve dealt with difficult people.”

Morris smiles tightly. “I’m sure (L/N) is an exceptional agent, but I can assure you that these aren’t your ordinary grumpy old people. We got a call once that Mr. Willow tried to shoot the mailman when he got too close.”

You hear the leather squeak as Hotch’s hand tightens on the steering wheel. He’s getting far more than irritated. In fact, you’d venture to say he was getting pissed. It wasn’t hard to tell why. Morris is wasting your time.

“Aaron is a more capable agent than I am!” you blurt out. “So if you don’t mind, we’ll be off. Serial killers don’t wait around for us to find our clues.”

You let Hotch roll up your window and drive off. As soon as you start rolling, you see him relax.

“Man, he just won’t let up. Is there something I’m missing?” you ask.

“If he gives you any more trouble, I’ll take care of it.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Of course.”

—

It finally hits you once Morris grabs your wrist. His grip is tight. You shake your hand a couple of times, but he still holds fast.

“I’ve been hoping that I could get a chance to talk to you alone, (Y/N). I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner.”

The whole time you had been here, Morris was hitting on you. You pride yourself on being able to read people, but you admit that your ability to spot romance is a bit lacking. Unfortunately, you have zero interest in going out with Morris. Not only is he being quite rude at the moment, but you had no intention of going long distance. Not to mention your lingering feelings for someone else.

“Well, given that we still haven’t caught the killer, I’ll have to decline. There’s no time to waste.”

His grip tightens even more before he releases you. His eyes are dark and he’s sporting a tight frown.

“Does Agent Hotchner not let you date?”

You stare at him in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Is Agent Hotchner interfering with your personal life? Does he dictate whether or not his team members can date?”

You shake your head. “No, he doesn't. This is a personal choice. I’d rather not go to dinner with you when I have a serial killer to catch.”

Morris says nothing, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. His animosity toward Hotch confuses you. You don’t bother trying to understand it, however. There isn’t anything about this guy that is making sense.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to my team. If you need anything, feel free to contact one of them.”

With that, you turn and walk back to the main room. You want nothing more than to have someone tell him off, but you opt not to mention anything. The team has other things to worry about.

—

Once again, Morris has done his best to ask you out. This time making the mistake of asking in front of Hotch. The tension in the room grows thick, and you feel uncomfortable. You can see Hotch seething.

“I don’t think-“

You’re cut off by Hotch. “You are to leave (Y/N) alone for the rest of this case, Officer Morris.”

His voice is icy. There’s a vein popping in his forehead and his hand is tight on the file. There’s no one else in the room to stop the fight that’s about to break out.

“(Y/N) doesn’t need to date whoever you approve of Hotchner. You’d be stepping out of your boundaries by making that choice.”

Hotch strides over to where you’re standing. He tosses the file onto the desk next to you and grabs your face. Within milliseconds, he’s pulled you into a kiss.

His lips are chapped and you let his tongue enter your mouth you can faintly taste blood. He’s passionate about it. One hand reaches around to the back of your head to keep you in place. There’s more force than necessary, and you feel yourself growing light-headed.

You don’t know how long he’s kissing you for, seconds or minutes, and it doesn’t matter. He’s set a fire inside of you and you find yourself whining when he pulls away. He’s careful to keep you close though.

“If you don’t mind, Officer Morris, (Y/N) and I will be leaving.”

—

Aaron pins one of your legs up against your body with the other wrapping around his waist. Your ankle is behind his head and you feel sweat fall from his brow.

“Why didn’t you tell him off sooner?”

You can’t answer his question with anything but a moan. You arch your back as he continues to pound you. Your body craves him and you feel delirious. The only thing you can think about is the way he’s making you feel.

“I could’ve done more to you in that office, but he doesn’t deserve to see you like that.”

Each thrust of his hips punctuates his statement. You can’t even tell what he’s saying though. The only thing on your mind is him. The way he’s filling you up. The way he feels inside of you. The way that each thrust hits that sweet spot makes you moan.

“A-Aaron!” you cry out.

His lips press harshly against yours. With one final thrust, you come undone. Your fingers grip his bicep tightly as you cum and you feel your legs tremble. You’ve been doing this for hours, and you’ve lost count of how many times that was.

When he pulls away, his face is soft. There’s no more anger or jealousy hidden in his eyes and a smile is slowly spreading across his face.

“You aren’t hurt are you?”

You giggle and shake your head. “Just a little out of practice for this. I’ll be a bit sore later but otherwise fine.”

His next kiss is soft and tender. You relish the fact that you’re spending the night with him.

“Good because when we get back to D.C. I’ll have to show you a different side of this. Perhaps after dinner?”

You let your eyes flutter closed. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

#reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch smut

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rayshippouuchiha · 2 years ago

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TBH the lack of Real Respect Tsuna and Skull both get makes me wanna see ‘em just… Vanish. They aren’t hurt, or in trouble, but they both end up tired as hell and want like. One (1) year to themselves, without being called shit like useless or lackey or weak. So they fuck off and onto some whimsical journey across the world, probably running into the fair folk or some shit (because Tsuna’s Super Anxiety would make him a damn hard target for them, and I feel like they’d just Vibe with Skull. Immortal and all that).

Meanwhile, everyone back in Namimori is losing. their. shit. Trying to find their two dumbasses, flipping every damn stone over because they’ve Clearly been kidnapped. No One notices the note Tsuna and Skull left, because Skull still isn’t the best at writing and Tsuna’s Super Anxiety kicked in and said that if he wrote it he’d never get his goddamn vacation.

To clarify, this is meant to be (mostly) humorous, but I’m curious to see where you’d go with an idea like this. I just want Skull and Tsuna to travel the world together TBH. Feel like they’d make good brothers.

Oh oh yes. Obviously there'll be humor but, well, it's me and we all know how these things eat my brain and I have to give them some bite so:

Skull isn't really one of Arcobaleno that Tsuna generally spends much time with.

When it comes to the Strongest, the ones Tsuna's found himself spending the most time with has always been Reborn and, surprisingly enough, Fon.

Reborn is around more often than not, content to keep torturing Tsuna even if his official title has shifted from Demon Tutor to Demon Tutor/Advisor.

And Fon's tendency to stop by frequently can be chalked up to I-pin and the fact that, for some reason, the Storm seems to be under the impression that hanging around Tsuna will, somehow, help him grow closer to Hibari.

Which is something that doesn't really make much sense to Tsuna. Even after years of being dragged into and out of various ridiculous shenanigans together, and despite recent Hibari's tendency to commandeer Tsuna's bed or floor or balcony at random times to nap, Tsuna's still not convinced that Hibari actually remembers he exists whenever they're not in the same room together.

And sometimes not even then.

A part of Tsuna also suspects that the "Small Animal" title he carries now might just be Hibari's way of getting around the fact that he doesn't remember Tsuna's actual name anymore.

It is, much like most everything else involving Hibari and Tsuna's thoughts about him, confusing and difficult for Tsuna to make up his mind about.

So, besides Reborn's continued sadism and Fon regularly attempting to use Tsuna as some kind of emotional Switzerland and/or human sacrifice to Hibari, Tsuna tends to see the other Arcobaleno on a bit of a floating schedule.

Viper, as Reborn has taken to insisting everyone outside of the Varia call the Mist, tends to blip in and out every once in a while. Often bringing news from Xanxus and leaving with anything strawberry flavored in Tsuna's house and whatever money he might have in his wallet at the moment.

Lal Mirch and Colonello tend to arrive and depart together, attached at the hip now no matter how much they bicker.

Verde's version of checking in seems to come in the form of sending whatever new robot or nightmare construct he's thought of to attack Tsuna and "gather data".

But Skull?

Tsuna rarely sees Skull.

The Cloud floats in and out of town only rarely and never stays longer than absolutely necessary. Often times he's gone within the hour.

Which is, in Tsuna's opinion, actually kind of a shame.

Because the thing is, Tsuna actually likes Skull.

Oh, he hadn't a few years ago when they'd first come across each other.

No back then Tsuna had hated each new and increasingly ridiculous trap/trick/shenanigan and situation Reborn had managed to push him into.

Skull had just been another irritation on a rapidly increasing list of things Tsuna hadn't wanted to deal with.

But ,,,

Well, it hadn't taken Tsuna long to realize that Skull and he were much more alike than he'd ever thought possible back at the beginning.

And now, with a few years of Reborn and this mafia headache under his belt?

Now Skull's someone that Tsuna wouldn't actually mind seeing more of.

Even though he knows it's not likely to happen.

Mainly because Tsuna's not actually a complete idiot no matter what some people still seem to think.

Tsuna's seen enough interactions between Reborn and Skull to have a pretty good idea about where some of the chips in that relationship fall.

Plus Hyper Intuition is helpful for more than just life-or-death battles these days even if Tsuna's not made that fact as openly obvious as he might once have.

It's yet another area in which Tsuna's found he can sympathize with Skull.

Because Tsuna also has a hyper-violent sadist he half wishes he could care less about sometimes.

Which is why Tsuna's so surprised to see a familiar pair of leather-clad legs dangling over the edge of the roof when he steps out onto his balcony, desperate to escape the screaming and general chaos that has once again taken over his house.

Tsuna goes to call out only for that familiar flare of warning heat to snap his mouth closed.

Instead Tsuna does something that he wouldn't have been able to a few short years ago.

He reaches up, grabs the edge of his roof in one hand, and pulls himself up onto the tiles above him.

When he's kneeling on the roof a few seconds later Tsuna finds himself glad that he didn't make too much noise, glad that he didn't draw any attention to Skull.

Because Skull's currently laid out on Tsuna's roof, legs dangling over the side but arms pillowed behind his head, helmet settled at his hip and eyes trained on the night sky and face almost eerily blank.

It is, Tsuna can't help but think, the quietest he's ever seen Skull.

It's honestly a little unsettling.

But, worst of all somehow in Tsuna's opinion, is the fact that Skull looks ,,, tired.

He doesn't even bother to greet Tsuna beyond flicking those vibrant violet eyes in his direction before going back to his star gazing.

To Tsuna, Skull has never looked more like everything he was taught a Cloud is supposed to be than in this moment.

Cold.

Illusive.

Bound to drift away.

The thought sends a shiver of premonition down Tsuna's spine.

Tsuna finds himself laying down on the roof beside him, legs dangling over the edge and arms folded behind his head.

Their elbows are just barely brushing.

And all the while a flickering whisper in the back of Tsuna's mind sings.

"I'm tired," Tsuna finds himself saying some silent drawn-out minutes later.

A beat of silence.

"Yeah," Skull sighs, voice lower and smoother than Tsuna has ever heard it before, "me too."

"I," Tsuna pauses, swallows, feels his Intuition surge and sharpen, "I love my friends and I know they care too but sometimes I just ,,,"

Tsuna trails off because he knows that Skull understands without him ever having to finish.

"Wish you could go to sleep and wake up on the opposite end of the world so that maybe you could get some rest and peace before they inevitably find you again?" Skull offers.

"Yes," The answer practically bursts out of Tsuna.

Another beat of silence.

"I've got an airship," Skull announces.

Tsuna hears it for the offer it is.

"They'd find us," Tsuna points out softly, twisting just a bit so he's looking Skull in the face. "They'd hunt us down and drag us both back."

The smirk Skull sends him in return is far darker and slyer than any expression Tsuna's ever seen on his face before.

"Oh, malysh nebo," Skull practically purrs, "they could certainly try."

#RayRambles #KHR #Katekyo Hitman Reborn #Tsuna And Skull's Excellent Adventure AU

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nitrokiraru · 9 months ago

Text

masterpost of all the times nitro+chiral has referenced their own games! made bc i was bored and i like epic nitro+chiral references

also includes references to other nitroplus games, if there are any refs i missed please feel free to add to the post or lmk and i will add them!

Togainu No Chi references

to start out is the bgm playing in slow damage! credits to this channel called L on youtube for the recording, they also uploaded other vids of n+c bgm being in surodame so shoutout to a real one bc im about to use all of their vids for this post

youtube

haunt, shifty, and tactics play in the restaurant!

this next one is not exactly confirmed to be a reference but I always felt like the re:code virus and trip ending cg was a homage to Kau

like??? THE OUTFITS LOOK KINDA SIMILAR IDK!!! i like to think that it is! and considering the fact that honyarara (dmmd artist) was a togainu no chi fan, i wouldnt be surprised if the similarities were intentional

Lamento references

to my knowledge there is not a lot of lamento refs in the other games, but like togainu no chi, lamento's bgm is also in slow damage!

youtube

kowaku, kaze ga huku machikado, and ketsui (? the last one is a lil hard to hear but it sounds like ketsui) play in the cafe!

Sweet Pool references

this reference is one i was NOT aware of at all until very recently, so credit to @/slybluehologhost for pointing it out! and for the screenshots if they are yours! their post was the one i found this out from lmao

the CG of one of the first rhyme fights in dramatical murder, is a corrupted version of the Okinaga household cg from sweet pool!

here is the original CG. if you notice it's using 3d resources, something that dmmd didn't actually have a lot of as backgrounds. the reason is because it's leftovers from the previous game!

if you look at the CG flipped, you can see clearly that it is the Okinaga household living room/kitchen!

in my opinion this is one of the coolest refs on this post. bc i played dmmd before every other n+c game, i genuinely didn't notice this when i first played. its something that only people who played sweet pool would notice, and i just find that so nice! just a lil easter egg for people who know

sweet pool bgm is also present in slow damage!

youtube

scene [warp02], chills02, and calm01 play in the bar!

another ref in slow damage is the billboard with youji official art on it

prolly my fav official art of youji ever

Dramatical Murder references

dmmd's bgm is featured in slow damage!

youtube

track 10, 12, and the video says bgm 22 but i cant rly hear anything? idk regardless the bgm plays when you go to beat up that guy who likes to get beat up by his brother for some reason LOL

another very very small reference that is extremely easy to miss is the fact that clear's nendoroid is in Mayu's room

if you zoom in on the parts i circled, you can see that the nendoroid box says 597. and nendoroid 597 just so happens to be the clear nendo!

under the cut are other nitroplus title refs! (also didnt wanna make this post look too long fndskgjn)

Other Nitroplus title references

Mayu's room is FULL of Nitroplus title references. so much that some of them I didn't really recognize besides the obvious, so i literally had to just go through the character lists on nitroplus games to find what characters they were. ur welcome for this incoming information that you may or may not have known

probably one of the most recognizable nitroplus characters in this room is saya from saya no uta, mayu has a figure of her in the middle! (theres more boxes of her but this was the most noticeable imo)

his figure display has many nitroplus characters on it

to start from the top, the one in the long maid like dress is Petrushka from Kikokugai - The Cyber Slayer

Next to her is Franco il Nero from Zoku Satsuriku no Django

i couldnt find anything for who's next to this chara, so i assume its just swimsuit versions of the character Mayu's obsessed with

Going to the 2nd row, though you can just barely see her, i found this character to be Echika from Tokyo Necro

Next (disregarding the obvious figures in between) to her are the two main characters from You and Me and Her, Aoi Mukou and Sone Miyuki!

i find it a little funny that they would put these references in because the audience for the people playing nitroplus games vs the audience playing n+c games are like VERY different but nonetheless, pretty cool!

while not a "reference" per se, sweet pool is heavily inspired by saya no uta!

this is something thats just a generally agreed fact, but i felt compelled to include it anyway because i rly love both of these vns and i love rambling abt them. theyre very similar in the ways that they both got meat n gore, and the main characters dealing with the meat n gore, and the general theme of just isolating yourself from people because of it and not exactly having a happy end. fuminori completely giving up his outside life for saya, destroying friendships n whatnot, and youji locking himself in his room and shutting out people who aren't dealing w his lil problem (makoto). the ending where saya wins and the red road ending shares some vibes imo. its all very similar even down to the soundtrack that had some of the same people working on it, and even gen urobuchi himself (writer of saya) worked on sweet pool as an advisor. so in my head its canon that these two games r brother and sister

thats pretty much it! (unless i decide to add more i swear theres probably so much im missing LMAO) thank you if you read this far ^_^

edit: check notes for other references people have added!

#togainu no chi #lamento beyond the void #sweet pool #dramatical murder #dmmd #slow damage #nitroplus #nitro+chiral #i put a lot of effort into this post for no reason. just for fun idk i like talking about vns

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5eraphim · 1 year ago

Note

Just saw ur lovely request are open once again,but I want to see some headcanons between zed and maynard when you- a former mercenary that left the war- comes back to check on the team- only to be terrified and creeped out by the surroundings.

And upon exploring inside- you find yourself to get lost upon the building..and when you saw a resemblance of your old teammate; engineer you couldn't help but be relieved..in a hurry you went over to him- and began to ramble and talk to him in worry..however you noticed something was off by the way he acts..he doesn't seem to know you..he seems surprised.. and when you call him dell- he even chuckles as if he finds it funny..

He offers you to go somewhere else- saying it's not safe- being lost and naive- you follow- making him actually lead you deeper inside.

You used to work here- why did this place suddenly became complex for you to wander around?

But then suddenly an another engineer appears and you panicked, raising your only weapon up towards them, but the engineer beside you stops you- taking the gun away from you.

You became confused- telling him there's an enemy right in front of you and he just laughs. You hear the supposed enemy engineer ask who you are- calling the engineer you first met- maynard and you became more confused and panicked as you realizes that this guy wasn't the same engineer you worked with.. and well.. this rambling could go even further with them trapping you inside the conagher slaughter house.

I 100% forgot you wanted this "headcanons" style, and drafted the entire oneshot before I Realized. I hope that's alright with you! Thank you so much for the request, I really hope you enjoy.

Title: Where He Once Stood

Characters: Maynard and Zed (Emesis Blue)

Rating: M (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: Reader is gender neutral, x reader, implied forced intimacy, power imbalance, deceptive abduction, slight amnesia, yandere

Word Count: 3.7k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." (Jeremiah 8:20)

"Even blood washes out, or you can fill your mouth with things that hide the taste." Sophie MacKintosh, Excerpt from "Cursed Bread"

You thought you knew your way around this place; you'd been around these parts plenty of times before. Sure, some years had passed, but that didn't explain how utterly lost you felt wandering Dustbowl. You ditched the war ages ago to find your own way in life, and you were content with that. It wasn't until recently that you decided you wanted to catch up with your closest friend from your time serving, Dell.

As a Sniper, you didn't interact much with the Engineer, but it wasn't your time on the battlefield you remembered fondly. It was his warmth and kindness at the end of the day, how excited you would get meeting up with him and the rest of the team for breakfast every day, despite knowing the grim work in store for you later in the day, and all the other moments of levity during such a dark time in your life. He was a good man, much too good to be stuck fighting the war.

The flashlight's beam did little to cut through the intense darkness overhead, and you could tell rain was due any minute now. You expected navigation would be tricky, but this was absolutely futile. The longer you wandered, the more your brain fog intensified, making you feel like a small child lost in the dark looking for their mother, jumping at shadows and fearing the sound of wind whipping overhead was the voices of ghosts.

Mindlessly, you fiddled with the strap securing your rifle to your body. Passing by a reflective window, you did a double take, catching your reflection. Looking down, you realized you were in your old Sniper's uniform. You could've sworn you came here dressed in civilian clothes when you departed, but frustratingly, you couldn't remember for sure.

In the distance, thunder rumbled, the storm was closing in, and you needed to find your way to proper shelter. Feeling a light rain against your face, you picked up the pace, trying to find any signs of life nearby, and to your immense relief, after rounding what felt like the hundredth nondescript dark corner, you spotted a light on, and could just make out the blurry details of Dell's old workshop. Running closer, you smiled, seeing the silhouette of someone inside tinkering away. It just had to be Dell!

As you sped closer and got a better look at the workshop, annoyed slightly by the fogged glass obscuring your vision keeping you from seeing inside, but you were too excited to see him again to care much.

Knocking on the door, you yelled, "Dell, open up!"

Watching a silhouette draw closer to the door, you were confused as he stalled for a moment, "Dell, will you let me in! It's freezing out here!"

The door creaked open, and Dell stood stiffly, without hesitating; you wrapped both arms around him, hugging as close as you could, almost sobbing with happiness after finally finding a familiar face around here.

"It's good to see you again! I missed you so much!"

Awkwardly, he patted your back and returned the hug before pulling away, staring at you with an almost blank look. "Sniper?"

Forcing a smile, you tried to ignore how uneasy he was acting, "C'mon Dell, it's me- we fought together for years. Don't tell me you've forgotten already?"

With an odd look on his face, he nodded, a strange smile spread across his face, "Course I remember ya, that's right- it's me, your ol' buddy Dell. It's been a while since I saw your face- whatcha doin' 'round here?"

He was acting weird, but it had been so long since he'd seen you face to face, and you didn't want to say anything. As he let you inside, you couldn't ignore the mess around the workshop. Dell could get buried in his work more than anyone you knew, but he was never so sloppy before. Beer cans littered tables, cigarettes piled over in ashtrays, and countless grease stains streaked across the tables and walls. You had to force yourself to keep from recoiling at the smell of stale air and debris. Seeing your old comrade out of uniform was odd, even if he still dawned the hard hat and goggles. Did he get taller after the war? You wondered but didn't want to ask out loud.

He noticed your staring, even if you were too meek to say anything definitive. With a hearty laugh, he pulled you into a crushing bear hug, "Good to see ya again, partner. It's been awful quiet 'round these parts lately."

You wanted to pull up a chair and catch up, but you couldn't forget the nightmarish terrain you crossed to get here. Pushing away from the hug, biting your lower lip nervously, you spoke, "Dell, I think something's up. We gotta get out of here."

Dell didn't seem to notice how bleak things were outside his shop. "This ol' place? I've been living under this roof since day one… It ain't been that long since you ditched the war." He gave you a cheeky smile, "Don't tell me you've already forgotten this place."

He was right. Objectively, you were fighting in the war just a few years ago, and there was no reason for you to have already forgotten so much. It didn't make any sense. Too insecure about the bizarre amnesia and brain fog to confess to either, you didn't respond, watching Dell cautiously nodding. Dell sighed, "I'm a might busy now, but I can walk with you for a while; I reckon I can take one night off. Help ya outta here an' all."

Stepping away a bit, you expected Dell to lead you back outside, but to your surprise, he drew further into the workshop, bringing you to the door attaching the shop to the rest of the warehouse. He opened the door, holding it open for you as you paced onward. It didn't make sense to you that this could be the way out, but Dell was your friend, and you trusted him. And it wasn't like you had any better ideas.

The two of you shuffled forward in a slightly awkward silence, you couldn't ignore how different everything looked from how you remembered it. How could everything have fallen into disrepair so fast? Windows were shattered, and walls were fractured by massive cracks, it was like the place had been abandoned for at least a decade. Things were run down, broken, and you tried not to consider the possibility you'd somehow stumbled onto enemy territory. You reasoned it was only a matter of time before you saw something you remembered, and if it were the enemy base, surely you'd have gotten yourself shot by now.

Dell broke the silence, "You came all this way to see me. You still talkin' with the others? Any idea how they're holdin' up?"

He sounded so disinterested; it was hard to imagine someone like him hadn't kept up with the others back home, if there was one person to be "a friend to all", it was Dell."I'm not so sure, actually. It's been getting quieter and quieter on their end… I just- I uh, really wanted to come and see you before you went silent too…"

Dell looked over his shoulder to smile at you, but this was an expression you'd never seen from him before. "Well, aren't you just the sweetest thing." Something was seriously off with him, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

You were so unsettled you didn't know how to respond, keeping your head down and hands mindlessly fumbling with your gun strap, trying to hold onto the hope this would all be over soon.

"To get outta here, we're gonna cross someone who don't take kindly to trespassers. But hold my hand, and I promise I'll getcha through." He extended his un-gloved hand for you to take, a kind gesture, but not one you were too thrilled to accept.

Raising an eyebrow, you responded, "If it's just one guy, I think I can defend myself just fine." As you spoke, you tapped the tip of the rifle strapped to your back with your fingernail.

Dell looked like he was trying to stifle a laugh, "Buddy, don't wanna do that, trust me. Ya ain't gonna win a quick draw against him." Once again, he extended his hand palm-up for you to take, which you reluctantly accepted. To your slight relief, Dell's hands were at least as warm as you remembered. It wasn't much, but you found it comforting.

You were thankful Dell didn't try to rush. Matching your feeble pace and walking close enough beside, you could almost feel his hip pressed against your own. "Is it Spy? Is he still around?"

Dell snickered, "Nope."

You continued walking by his side for a while without saying anything. Listening to the sound of your own footsteps against the creaking floor, trying to ignore the other noises of the house. The rain pattering against the windows, which rattled in the wind. Even creepier, you couldn't ignore the unidentifiable sounds from below the floorboards, sounding almost like someone moaning in pain. You could've sworn you could hear whispers coming from behind the dark corners, but you knew there was no way anyone else was around. Inner reason told you it was just your mind playing tricks on you, but you couldn't help but whip your head toward the voices to catch someone there, but no one ever was.

If Dell could hear the moans of pain or the hushed voices, he didn't say anything. As you walked, he ran his thumb in soft, slow circles against the back of your hand to try and comfort you. He hummed a little under his breath as though trying to minimize the creepiness of the place.

When you were about to ask how much longer until you found a way out, Dell stopped at another door. Remarkably sturdy looking and well-maintained compared to the shabbiness of the rest of the house. Given how heavy and industrial it appeared, it hardly resembled a door, looking more like the entrance to a bank vault. "This is it. He's right in 'ere. Don't let him scare ya. He's all bark and no bite… Sort of."

You were too tense to ask precisely what he meant by that, giving him a single nod in response, pressing your lips together into a hard line, tightening your grip against his hand. Stealing your resolve with a deep breath, you had no idea what lay in wait behind the door, but you were ready to tackle it head-on if it meant getting out. Pulling a tarnished silver key from his top pocket, Dell unlatched the door, stealing a quick glance your way before pushing the heavy door open.

You weren't ready to see what was behind that door, let alone confront him. The sight of another Engineer covered in fresh blood, chunks of carnage clinging to his overalls, and cleaning his tools, which were just as drenched in gore as he was, made you lock up with fear. The smell of carnage and motor oil almost made you wretch, and it took all your strength to keep from covering your eyes or screaming.

Two Engineers at the same base was confusing enough, but seeing one of them drenched in blood off the battlefield made you even more horrified. They both looked so much like Dell, but you knew with a sinking realization neither of these men were the Engie you knew and cared for. The other Engineer looked up at his twin, only then noticing he wasn't alone. "Who the hell is that?"

He shot up from his seat, ready to dart in your direction. Instinctively, you drew your weapon and were prepared to aim at the other Engineer. Your hands shook badly, and you knew you'd miss him if you tried to fire, even at such a close range.

Before you could even raise the crosshairs to your eye, you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder, pulling you protectively closer to his body, effortlessly yanking you from your weak stance, speaking in a louder but not quite aggressive voice. "Hey, easy there- don't do anything stupid now. We're just here to talk."

You weren't sure if he was talking to you or the other Engineer, but thankfully, he stopped where he was, keeping one hand planted on the gun attached to his belt. "Don't do anything stupid? Maynard! What the hell are you doin' bringin' someone up here!?"

Confusion slowly began to dwarf your fear. Keeping a tight hold on your gun, you lowered it a little more, whispering under your breath, glancing at the man beside you out of the corner of your eye, "Maynard?"

Despite the hostile situation, he grinned and winked, "Charmed to make your acquaintance, partner."

The other Engineer was far less amused. "Maynard, answer me! You got a hell of a lotta explainin' to do, brother!" It was too dark to see his face, as though you could even really see him under the hard hat and glasses, but his voice was more than enough to make you go stunned and silent.

All rational was gone. You could only think about getting out of this awful place. You tried to turn on your heel and break from Maynard's grip, but he was even stronger than he looked, keeping you effortlessly pinned in place.

A pair of bulky arms hugged you from behind, wrapping around your belly, pulling you securely against a chest broader than you remembered Dell's being. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you were forced to fully realize how close the stranger was and how far away from safety you were.

Sure, you were scared before, but Dell was your best friend, and you'd follow him anywhere, but this wasn't Dell, and now you were in the clutches of something much more nefarious than you had expected.

Leaning close to whisper in your ear, you heard the stranger speak, "You weren't runnin' away on me now, were you? You wouldn't leave me all alone in here, would ya, darlin'? And here I thought we were getting along so well." His hug from behind tightened noticeably as he hissed that last part into your ear, crushing the air from your lungs. Your eyes widened, watching the other Engineer stalking closer. He looked so much like Dell, but you knew this wasn't him, the similarities making him all the more terrifying. The other Engineer didn't once take his hand from his gun, but at least he wasn't yelling anymore. "The hell are you doing here? Just who the hell-"

Maynard raised one hand to silence the other Engineer, who complied through grit teeth, and you could only imagine the enraged look on his face under his goggles.

"Relax, Zed, this one is harmless-"

Zed fumed, "Don't tell me to relax, you lazy bastard! You bring a surprise visitor this deep into the house with a gun pointed at my head! And you want me to relax!?"

You paled, listening to Zed confirm what you'd feared all along. You weren't being led the way out. You were following blindly even deeper into enemy territory, brought all the way into his den without even trying to fight back. You couldn't even call it your old base anymore. Where you stood now was his turf. Any pathetic, fleeting hope of escaping this bizarre place vanished the instant the words left Zed's mouth. Tears of hopelessness stung your eyes, threatening to spill as you heard Maynard's deep, unsettling laughter rumbling behind you. Too scared to move much on your own, you managed to buck forward suddenly, wriggling free as his arm detached from around you, forcing you to support yourself with shaking knees, holding your rifle to your chest with white knuckles, breathing rapidly.

Maynard took a half-step away and smiled reassuringly before extending a hand your way. In a faux-soothing voice, though with a note of condescension, as though he were speaking to a small child, "You heard the man. Hand it over."

The mere sight of Zed standing close by, staring you down with complete vitriol, made you hesitate. Your situation was hopeless; anyone could see that trying to hold onto your gun would likely give you more trouble than anything else, but still, you were too scared out of your mind to think clearly.

Seconds passed like hours as Maynard stared at you with that creepy smile, "Don'tcha want this all over with? Just hand me the gun, buddy. That's all ya gotta do." You looked back between Zed and Maynard like a hunted animal.

"C'mon now, Don't make me take it from you," Maynard warned, sounding a little too excited to enforce his own threat. Swallowing the lump in your throat, with unsteady hands, you complied, turning over your only means of defense to the stranger. Your sniper rifle was more than a gun. It was an extension of yourself, and handing it away felt like a severe betrayal.

Without a second thought, the Texan smiled, accepting your weapon into his own hands, holding the thing carefully in his hands, and seeming to admire the firearm before smashing it into the cement wall beside him. The sound of metal against cement rang out like a gunshot, making you yelp, watching your precious gun get smashed to pieces.

Maynard took a few more good swings against the wall before dropping the battered rifle to the ground, giving it a steel-toed stomp for good measure, beaming at the sound of metal breaking apart and shattering beneath his foot.

Maynard looked at Zed with an almost chipper smile, "See, gun's gone now. I told ya that one's harness, didn't I?" Unable to look away, you stared down at your poor gun, not even flinching as Maynard slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest.

Zed appeared unphased by the brutal display, nodding at the sight of the broken weapon, at last moving his hand from his holster, crossing his arms over his chest. "I see. But I wanna know why you brought a hostage all the way up here. I know we got more than enough room in the bunkers-"

Maynard interrupted, squeezing you a little tighter, "Not a hostage. A guest, this one's an old friend of Dell's." Turning his head to face you, uncomfortably close, Maynard asked, "Dell ever mentioned he had brothers to ya before?"

You winced hearing his name. You didn't want to upset your captors more than they were, but you honestly had no idea what was happening, so you shook your head.

Maynard sighed, "Looks like our baby brother didn't spend much time missin' the folks back home. Typical youngest sibling', he thinks just cuz he's the golden child, he can leave the rest of us behind."

You were almost too scared to ask; you just had to know. "Dell is still alive… Isn't he?"

Maynard frowned, "Well, he ain't come our way in a long time. But I know he's out there. He'll be back soon… An' I know you'll be good an' help welcome him home, won'tcha?" While he spoke, his fingers began to drum over your shoulder, playing with the fabric of your shirt between his fingertips. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Zed watching you like a hawk, not moving from his position several paces away, likely still ready to blow your head off at a moment's notice.

Trying your hardest not to let him see how his touch made you shudder, you mumbled, "How long? How much longer till he's back?"

Maynard sighed, shrugging, "Well, tough to say for sure. We've been waitin' on a visit for ages now, but ya never know with him."

Your face fell, and your head dropped forward, not wanting to give Maynard the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Ruffling the top of your head with his gloved hand, he muttered, "Hey now, don't cry, it won't be so bad. We'll keep you nice and safe. I always did like a little company around here."

Maynard looked past you to talk to Zed, "Just give us a few. I'll get 'em settled in and be back to work."

Zed huffed but didn't say anything to stop his brother, allowing him to walk past where he stood to the hallways connecting personal quarters to the den. As he passed the threshold out of the den, Maynard laughed a little to himself, "Yeah, sorry 'bout him. He's always a lil' cranky 'round strangers."

If that was Zed being cranky, you didn't want to know what he looked like when he was really pissed. It wasn't long until Maynard stopped at another doorway at the end of the hall, which creaked harshly when pushed open.

So this was where he was leading you all along, his bedroom. Somewhere so deep in the heart of the house, you didn't have a prayer of finding your own way out. You let Maynard lead you to his bed. He sat you down on the blanket, drinking in the scared look on your face with great satisfaction.

"I gotta take care of a few more things, but I want ya to stay here; keep the bed nice and warm for me. I'll be back before ya know it."

You didn't say anything, too disgusted to even look him in the eye, but you could hear him chuckling at your adorable stubbornness, "What's the matter, partner? Got nothing to say?"

Still refusing to look at him, you mumbled. "You were never going to take me home. You lied to me."

Using his human hand, Maynard brushed the side of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, curling his other hand beneath your chin to tilt your head up to look at him.

"I promised to get you outta the workshop. I never promised to take ya home. But hey, it's gonna be ok, darlin', Don'tcha see? You are home now."

Biting your lower lip to keep from sobbing, you could feel your face trembling to keep the tears in, "This can't be real. This has gotta be a dream…"

Maynard leaned down to kiss your head, muttering, "Ya really think this is all some dream, huh? That's cute. Go on and hold onto that hope while ya can. Ya ain't gonna have much hope left after I've had my way with ya."

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dimepdf · 1 year ago

Text

★ 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. crowded in a full club with a crowd of familiar faces, the last person you wanted to ever see again was your ex. Luckily, Eren swoops to safety, wanting to keep your mood high and wants to save the night by taking a more direct approach.

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭notes. this took way too long to write, good lord I was struggling to choose if I wanted to write a jungkook fanfic or this,, the brain rot is getting bad ya'll pray for me to unclench that seven days a week song from my hands | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭length. 3.5k (27 min read) .

THE MUSIC THUMPED through the planked floors of the room to the vibrate of the bottom of your chunky heels. Dim, low, orange lights outlined the many figures that were scattered around the condensed club that had a known wait line outside that was close to wrapping around the building and down the rest of the block.

Luckily, your name was printed in bold black at the top of the exclusive people list, one of the many perks of being friends with your friend Connie, who somehow managed to be the owner of the most infamous bar in the city.

Dragging your friend group out for the stress free weekend, wanting nothing more but to get drunk under someone else’s tab.

After the pretty rough recent breakup you had with your sistutionship that Mikasa and Sasha were just so tired of hearing you mope about through the many group chat messages and facetime calls they had to endure with you yapping about another guy from Tinder ghosting you.

The offer of filling your poor little heartbroken spirit with many many free shots was enough to get your ass off your couch and squeezed into an old cute red mini dress that hugged your curves just a little too much that if you stared for just a bit too long you would see the slight outline of the cute lace matching set under.

Especially where it stopped at the mid peak of your thighs, the material plumping out around the tight hem giving you a very attractive and alluring sight for anyone that so happened to trail their eyes down your adorned figure.

In short, you were prepared to take it all off at the end of the night, and by God’s will, you hoped to end up in your birthday suit, tangled up with some handsome suitor willing to fuck away all the pent-up fustration that your blessed rose touch failed to reach under the blankets.

Eren, to no one's surprise, hadn’t gotten the same idea, the timid soul drawing something close to his normal casual attire did not really know what was club appropriate, no matter how many times your friend group would drag him along on a night out just to drink the boy out of his shell.

Tonight, surprisingly, he was the only one in the friend group chat to give a hurried response to your nighting invitation, watching from your palm-resting chin as he babysat his second drink.

Letting out a covered chuckle at every grimace that would twist on his lips that you couldn't tell was because of the sip of alcohol or the fact that he was buzzing with anxiety, refusing to leave your sight.

The music in the dimly lit open room thumped through the floorboards, the air wafting with desperate cheap cologne and hard bar liquor. You had to admit that seeing him glued to his spot beside the bar was a bit funny.

Avoiding any lick of interaction with anyone as his sight would dip whenever anyone would push through near him, the way his shoulder stood up tense as his hand clutched his drink to the long line of girls that would stumble up to him as if he were their lighthouse beacon, their exchange awkward as Eren would often play the same "I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the music card." just to shoo them away nervously back to the dancefloor.

You couldn't blame the ladies for at least giving it a try; you could admit that Eren did look good, especially under the club's light. The leanness of his sleeper build made the fill out of his dark brown button-up shirt alluring with the aid of the peek of his slightly muscled arms.

His shoulder-length shaggy dark brunette hair tugged lazily into a half ponytail, leaving wisps of hair from his face-framing bangs, made him look as if he had walked straight out of some male model ad, from the fashion to the accidental aloof attitude that he naturally radiated.

Relaxing some of the tensation from his shoulders, Eren’s lips parted with a slight sigh before nervously fiddling with the rolled up cuffs of his shirt, his eyes easing from his lap to sneak a quick glance at you, almost flinching out of his poor skin when he had met your rested glance.

His eyes widened a bit in surprise, his tongue poking from his parted mouth almost as if his thoughts had interrupted him from speaking before your eyes could track down the slight bob of his adams apple. "I don't—I don’t think I got to tell you yet, but you look really gorgeous tonight, I like your…hair." His tone held a bit of a tremble, the stutter in his voice was the realization that he had to speak a bit louder of the music even with you sitting on the stool right beside him.

You were definitely a little caught off guard, Eren wasn't the type to suddenly dish out compliments, let alone notice the fine details about someone’s appearance to save his life. You could recall the times Connie would make it a game to see how long Eren would go until he would realize the change in his appearance.

"Hm, you don't think it's too much?" You asked, leaning in a bit into his personal space and keeping a level tone as you spoke into the direction of his ear, pretending like you had seen Eren react in a tense fluster, his fingers tensely gripping his cup with your sudden proximity. "I mean, with the color and all." Your lips curve into a slight charmed smile, finger caught twirled around a newly dyed dark auburn curl, watching the coil spring back into place with a tug.

Eren's gray eyes followed the swipe of your finger as you moved away from his personal space and rested your back against the bar stool. It looked as though Eren was being drawn in by your actions.

The interaction consists of him merely nodding his head and remarking, "Well, I like the color, I think it suits you." The conversation did not lead anywhere else as your attention had shifted once more towards the dancing crowd, scanning the mingling group of people until your heart skipped a beat at the sight of a certain person in particular that stood a few feet away.

Your sudden switch to having a discomforting mood had not gone unnoticed, Eren’s head turned at the slightest frown of your brows, scanning over the open crowd with no avail to what had soured your mood so quickly. "Hey, what happened?" Your trance not budging at the sound of his question, your attention tugging onto whatever you were across the room glaring at.

It was only when the brush of his palm caressed against your lower thigh that his fingers danced warmly against the exposed leg of your skin, despite the soothing cold sensation welcomed from the silver rings that had adorned his fingers fashionably, his touch being enough to stir you away had you finally looked at him.

"You okay?" A static-like shock trail ran through your nerves, not only from his hand placement but also from the way he had somehow zoned you into feeling like you two had been the only two people in the room just by the way he was looking at you.

The lighting was deemed dangerous, with your brain buzzing from how well it had sculpted Eren’s features, from his defined cheekbones to the alluring yet genuine and compassionate dark glint in his eyes.

You had swallowed before remembering how to speak, praying that the way his eyes traced over the nervous habit you had of biting the skin at your lower lip was all just in your fucked-up horny mind.

That would be the only way you could have been thinking about Eren in such a risque way. "No, no, it's just my ex is here." Not even enough in you anymore to sigh, you couldn't turn your head before Eren could scoot you close in within his presence by the grasp he had on the underside of the stool you sat perched on. "Sorry, it just kind of caught me off guard, I guess."

Eren’s attention was completely devoted to you, his eyes carefully watching every twist and turn of your expressions, zoned in completely on your mood as it drained into something sour and insecure. You tried to keep up the front that you were trying to force out that you were having a good time—anything to help pry your ex’s eyes away from you as he seemed to be drifting closer and closer towards you as the night continued to painfully slowly unfold.

"Hey," you flinch as Eren laces his fingers between yours, this thumb rubbing comforting circles against your knuckles. "Sorry, what do you want to do? Wanna get out of here?" he asks, with his eyes searching to latch onto anything that would express how you felt.

"Um, yeah, I think I've had enough for tonight," you admit, holding your breath at the way Eren’s hand slid from your thigh to your lower back as you rose from your seat. His dark eyes traced over your stiff movements carefully, eyes flickering nervously over the allure of your attractive curves, especially how dangerous they looked squeezed into your dress.

"I want to—" You watched him wince, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before looking back at you with a shy glance, almost as if he had to bite his tongue and start over to stop himself from saying something. "Did you want to come back to mine?"

★ . . . !

Time had to be an illusion. Eren didn't care too much about religion, but he was convinced that maybe he was just dead and this was him experiencing his own personal depiction of heaven.

From the whirlwind of events that began with him boldly inviting you back to his apartment, to the length of the very flushing conversation the two of you had on the car ride back, to the two of you laying limbs tangled against his mattress, everything about the way the night had unfolded seemed like something straight from one of his wet dreams.

Eren even let a few stray tears spill past his thick, wet lashes from how touch-deprived you reminded him he was as he trembled in response to your lewd touch. Each stroke of your soft palm against the shaft of his dick entices an embarrassing, needy whine from his throat as his hips fuck against your slow, teasing hold.

The lights from the flat-screen TV that was mounted at the front of his bed illuminated as the show played. While the unattended lights from the show, which had been long ignored, only helped define the gleaming beauty of your features and sparkling dress.

In spite of the wicked work that your left fist was carrying out, he thought that you looked undoubtedly angelic. Eren was also convinced that he was going through some kind of brain rot with his badly clouded thoughts from how the only thing that could slip past his lips was the desperate, choked whimpers of your name.

A light strawberry flush spread from the bite of his cheeks to the trail of his heaving chest. Eren was too tied into the bubbling effects of pleasure, causing his nerves to melt under the touch of your palm. His own fist gripped, white-knuckled, into the pillow resting under his head. As his other hand grasped less tightly, his fingers wrapped fully around the wrist of your hand, which continued to pump his cock at a steady pace.

Even with his jittering nerves, he could still feel the sparkling, sticky gloss of your trial of nibbling kisses stick to the soft skin of his neck. Your lips ghost close to the shell of his earlobe, sending a welcomed sensation up his arched spine. "You have to talk to me, Eren. Tell me what you feel, honey."

Overwhelmed with just so many new sensations, Eren felt like he was just close to sobbing from how good he felt from the pleasure. You couldn't help but wait for his answer with a very self-satisfied smirk as he gasped at the kiss you placed right under his ear.

"It feel–" he swallowed back the words he struggled to choke on, "it feels really good, please." He hadn't even known what he was begging for, from just your touch. He had melted into a mumbling, brainless, shuddering puddle of nothing with each kiss and sleek stroke.

"Hm, Does it now?" You were practically torturing the poor man, knowing exactly what you were doing when you talked to him in that sultry, flirty tone of yours. Rising from his side to sit perched with your knees pressed into the blanket of his soft duvet. Eren stared up at you as if he were entranced by your every move, his adam's apple bobbing with a thick swallow as your thick lips curled into an even more flattering, sweet smile.

His cock ached over the loss of your touch, as if it weren't enough that you left him breathless, you had to muster the nerve to undress in front of him.

Sliding the straps of your dress over your shoulders and reaching behind you to unzip yourself loose, his eyes refused to leave yours as you yanked yourself out of the fabric with a kick, revealing the drooling sight of the hidden dark maroon matching set that had been tucked away underneath. Simply saying, "Come here." was enough to get him to crawl over to you.

Reaching out with an unsteady hand, his eyes glued to your chest, he sighs at just how perfectly your tits sit before placing his hands against them and gently fondling you, despite the pained look screwed on his face that you couldn't help but to bite back a chuckle at.

You had to admit that you found him very attractive—the sight of his pale, slender fingers dancing against your warm brown skin. Even with a layer of lace in the way, the feeling between your thighs still grew more agnited with the brush of his silver rings fumbling clumsily over your budding dark nipples.

Letting an encouraging moan part from your lips, Eren hadn't even gotten enough time to breathe in his new-found sense of appraisal, as the movement of your own hands unbuttoning the rest of his shirt left him feeling under your control once more.

Opening his shirt with a bit of an inpatient tug, you apologized, "Sorry, you just have too many clothes on." It was a soft moment that both of you got to chuckle over as you helped him shoulder out of his button shirt as well as the muscle tee he wore under it with a shared giggle to ease back the tenseness.

"You should lay back," you said, running your fingers down his naked chest. Eren has just the right amount of muscle, his skin torso bundling with a lean peak of a six pack, almost as if he had accidentally gotten a ripped figure without even really trying. His greenish flag was just how damn attractive he managed to be, yet how unbelievably unaware he was of his own insufferable good looks.

“Wait." Eren sighs, his fingers instead threading themselves in between your wandering hand, just inches away from brushing against his very clear erection.

"Just give me—give me a second, please?" struggle to find the correct words, cursing the hard task of speaking, especially as all you did was watch the form of his lips with every word. Eren was surprised that he could even steady his breathing enough with how obviously you sat back and watched him catch his breath with that pretty smirk on your mouth that he wanted so badly to kiss, but he knew it would only rile him up more.

After his small recoup of mercy, you helped him out of the rest of his jailing clothes. Only peppering around his face with quick kisses, knowing how sensitive Eren truly was, even as he squirmed around the feeling of your hand's gentle touch, putting his length into a condom, with his head tilted back and his eyes screwed shut.

You were truly surprised to see firsthand how touched and starved the man was. As you positioned his length near your entrance and slowly sheathed down on his cock, his hands were uncertain as to whether they wanted to hug around your hips or fondle with your tits.

The sensation takes a minute of stillness and shifting for not just Eren to get used to, not surprised on your part by your months of dry spell suddenly being broken with a bigger than average-length bulge while resting itself inside of you.

Every squirming inch of him inside is rudely rubbing against your warm walls as Eren's hands dig into the plush skin of your waist as if it were any more possible to hug the curve of your ass down against him. Feeling the tense muscles of his raised thighs against the brush of your behind, you both just needed a moment of relative stillness to allow your bodies to become more politely accustomed to the new sensation.

"Tell me when it gets too much." You let out a sigh as you gazed in awe at the man below you, Eren's hips shifting up at the hush warning in response. As you lifted yourself up with your hands resting to steady yourself against his torso. Leaning in closer towards him to get a better look at his glossy eyes, they mirrored the expression of awe that was on your face, and they continued to do so even as you sank back down onto his length.

Your pace would grow more excited, fueled by the punched-out groans of pleasure that would tumble from Eren's throat at the sensation of your pussy engulfing his cock completely. He hadn't bothered to cover his mouth, and with each shift of your hips, a string of whines would follow as he would praise your name as if he were mumbling a prayer.

The bedstrings of his mattress, accompanying the grunt of his lewd moans. Repeatedly, your hips would slam against his, aiding in the tense curl of his toes and the dizzy feeling he would get from throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut so tightly he was starting to see stars.

His hands held a death grip against your shifting waist, holding onto you as you tortured him at the unforgiving, grinding pace at which you bounced on his lap. "I— I can't, please, oh fuck—uh god." Eren would plead with you as if your entire world were in your hands. "I can't—I need to, please." Riddled with so much emotional desperation, and yet the last thing you wanted to do was hand him an orgasm so easily, the aroused part of you clenched at the sound of his begging.

"Just let it go, Ren." You sigh into his ear, gasping at the way his hips bucked into you in response. He was definitely working to do so, the slight switch of your control not flattering his pure sexual need as he squirmed all he could to chase after the slow grind of your hips.

His body begged him to keep going, the need to want to drag it out as long as he could to stretch the knot as far as it would be possible let him not want the moment to end laying under your touch. Fueled by the sheer absolute pleasure that washed over him the moment he felt your lips part tongue poke out to suck under the sensitive spot under his ear, a melted expression stretched on his bitten sore lips as his hips buck under you.

You hadn't bothered to give him any more mercy than what you had already graced upon him. Every twitch and tremble felt beneath the warmth of your skin as you returned to your hips and began to meet Eren’s thrust, his moans sounding almost close to poetic. With overly drawn-out vowels and pitched whines, it brought you both to sheer intimate ecstasy.

It took a few sighs and some soothing touches to replace the hard press of his nails digging into the hips of your flesh. Even sharing a small kiss was maybe crossing a few boundaries, but both of you were too fucked out to care for the moment. After a few tosses and turns, Eren dragged the blankets to cover the both of you, kissing your bare shoulder blade as you crawled to lay down tucked under his arm.

"Do you…do you want to stay over?" It was hard for Eren to search for the right words to say, especially with his inability to even breathe correctly. He copied the way your chest rose and fell, knowing you could hear every thump and bump of his heart beating from his chest.

"I’d like that," you lean up to say, showing off that pretty smile that had him so entangled in the first place.

"If that's okay with you?" Eren didn’t mind one bit, snuggling the girl right in front of him closer to his chest with contentment.

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oatmilk-vampire · 11 months ago

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Once Bitten, Twice Shy || Steddie (A/B/O)

Omega!Steve Harrington x Alpha!Eddie Munson

Summary: It's been a year since Steve and Eddie last saw one another. It's been a year since Steve broke Eddie's heart. Now they have to pretend like everything was fine at Christmas with all of their friends.

Based off of the best Christmas song EVER Last Christmas by Wham! Mostly because I've always been stuck on that one particular line I used for my title.

Word count: 4.4k of whump and happy ending.

TW: infertility

A/n: More subtle a/b/o dynamics, can almost be read as a slightly different human au.

Christmas was never special for Steve.

Not in the way it was for the rest of America’s children. One might think Steve had a fantastic holiday with how rich the Harringtons were. That he was spoiled rotten. Maybe he was. He wouldn’t deny having grown up with a literal silver spoon in his mouth, but his Christmases were filled with white lights and fancy dinner parties. Sure he got toys occasionally but not the kind he wanted. Toys his parents insisted would shape him up into a big, strong, proper alpha rather than the play kitchens and baby dolls he so wished for. He also wasn’t allowed to believe in Santa, he was well aware “Santa” was really just the kids’ own parents. He had no reason to be on the nice list because it didn’t exist. He’d get his presents no matter what. Plus why be good if he didn’t get what he actually wanted?

He also got preppy, snobbish clothes that he only just recently started getting away from and breaking into his own style.

His first real Christmas was when he dated Nancy, and each subsequent year only seemed to get better even after they broke up.

Until last Christmas.

After Steve’s parents disowned him for presenting as an omega, he feared his life was over. All his life he was raised to be an alpha, but no matter the rigorous conditioning he underwent you can’t control who you are. He was born this way. He couldn’t change who he was. He hated himself for a while there, thinking he really was as worthless as his parents had led him to believe but that all changed when he got to know Eddie.

Whereas Steve still acted as a fierce protector to the kids (even if it bordered on maternal), he didn’t ever have to be the de facto leader with Eddie. Eddie took it on naturally. Maybe that has to do with him being an alpha.

Unlike all the knothead alphas Steve associated himself with before he presented, Eddie was nothing like them. He was a gentle giant. He took his role as alpha very seriously, yes, but he would never dominate. He would never try to take advantage of any omega, especially Steve.

When everyone thought Steve was going to be an alpha, they all wanted a piece of him. Then when he was outed as an omega by none other than Tommy and Carol, all the alphas wanted a piece of him. They wanted to control the once king of Hawkins High. To mate him. To claim him.

It made Steve sick to think about what would have happened had Eddie not stepped in and effectively repelled all other alphas with his own cinnamon and pine scent that he constantly left all over Steve even if they were just together as friends.

Until they weren’t. After they both finally graduated high school Eddie asked to court Steve, and Steve wholeheartedly agreed. He knew he trusted Eddie with his life. He knew he could trust him with his heart. He loved him.

Loved.

What a strong word. It could mean everything, or nothing all the same depending on who uttered it.

Steve always meant it, and he’s pretty sure Eddie did too… Steve’s not sure when Eddie might have stopped, but he’s pretty sure it probably happened some time last Christmas.

They had been through three separate, unprotected, synced heats and ruts.

After the claiming bite is exchanged heats and cycles sync, after that the success rate of getting an omega pregnant during their heat is nearly unavoidable even with protections and birth control present. If it was unprotected then the omega was sure to fall pregnant.

At least that’s what the brochures taught Steve when he presented. That’s what the brochures taught Steve when he returned to the reproductive specialist. That’s what society taught him.

They all taught him he was, as he always feared, broken.

Because no matter how often Steve and Eddie mated, on their heats and ruts or off, Steve could not get pregnant.

It was virtually unheard of for an omega to face infertility. Infertility only really ran in betas, and even then it only ever affected one in six.

There’s no reason why Steve wasn’t able to give Eddie pups.

The doctors couldn’t even give him a reason or treatment plan to fix his unexplained infertility. He just had to cope with it.

Eddie tried to comfort Steve through it but Steve knew how hard it was on Eddie too. Steve knew Eddie deserved to have a big family of his own one day, little pups running around with messes of dark curls upon their heads.

Steve had hoped he’d be a part of that fantasy. He hoped his six little nuggets would have his eyes and Eddie’s hair, a combination of Steve’s athletic abilities and Eddie’s musical talent.

His dream turned into a never-ending nightmare in the blink of an eye.

As much as Eddie said all he needed was Steve, Steve knew better. He’s seen how Eddie was with Dustin and the rest of the Party. Eddie needed a big family, he deserved to be the good father he never got to have.

Which is why Steve did the unimaginable last Christmas.

It was Steve and Eddie’s first Christmas since learning they couldn’t mate, and Eddie was trying to make it memorable and good for them, a break from all the anguish they had been dealing with for the past few months.

Steve on the other hand gave Eddie the greatest gift of all: Freedom.

Eddie cried, begged, bargained, but Steve wouldn’t have any of it.

If Eddie was any other alpha, Steve knows he wouldn’t have been able to get away with walking out on them after they’d already each exchanged claiming bites. He might even end up dead for messing with an alpha like that, and the sheriffs wouldn’t even bat an eye. Except for maybe Hopper, but still.

But Eddie wasn’t any other alpha. Instead he let Steve go, knowing he wouldn’t force him to stay.

Eddie moved out, his decision, Steve was already leaving him. He wouldn’t make him physically leave their– his home too. Eddie returned to live with Uncle Wayne, the only one who learned of their separation.

They agreed to keep this secret, there was no reason to upset everyone or make them feel like they had to take sides. An alpha and omega separating after exchanging claiming marks was almost as unheard of as omega infertility anyway. They took turns going to events or games or parties, in some sick fashion it’s almost like they had joint custody or something.

When their heats and ruts approached they agreed to spend it with one another since they were still synced and it’s always safer to have a mate than not. Plus it was considerably more disastrous for them to be mated and not spend it with one another. They worked out a system, Eddie would let himself in the night before it was due to start for them and in the morning when it hit they’d sniff each other out and do what biology instructed them to. They could hardly remember the visits anyway. After it was over Eddie would slip back away undetected until the next time.

This Christmas would be the first time they see each other. This Christmas would be the first time they speak face to face. This Christmas would be the first time they had to pretend to be a couple in front of everyone.

Steve hadn’t used suppressants in a very long time but he did today. Eddie’s scent would forever be mingled with his, but that wouldn’t stop everyone from being able to sniff out the soured notes he’d take on due to his discomfort. Only the betas wouldn’t be able to smell his scent, but the young alphas and omegas they cared so much for were loud mouths and would be sure to ask what his problem is.

He wondered if Eddie would do the same.

He guesses he’ll find out soon enough.

He pulls into the Munson trailer driveway, leaving his car running so it’d be warm for Eddie as he approached the door.

Almost immediately after knocking on it it opened. He expects to see Eddie, but instead it’s Uncle Wayne.

Steve instantly feels embarrassed but he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because he broke his nephew’s heart and forced him to move back in with his uncle at the age of twenty-four.

“Steve, Merry Christmas!” He's just as happy to see him as he was the last time Steve saw him back when he and Eddie were still a happy couple and he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Merry Christmas, Un– Uh, um.” He clears his throat. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Munson.”

The older man shakes his head.

“Please, still call me Wayne. You’re family kid, even if you two are taking a break.”

It’s more than just a break. Steve thinks but nods and puts on a small smile.

“Thank you, Wayne.”

“Please, come in. He should be just a moment longer. You know how he is with his hair.” He rolls his eyes goodnaturedly and Steve can’t help but laugh, Wayne’s friendliness doing wonders at ebbing away at his nerves.

“Well, I’m the same way so I can’t really speak on that.” He touches his perfectly done hair. It’s not as big as he used to wear it, but he still used Faberge Organics and Farrah Fawcett spray.

“You boys, I swear.” He redirects his attention to the kitchen they just entered. “Would you like some eggnog?”

“Oh, is it spiked? I’m driving tonight so I better not…”

“Nonsense. I have both options for you. I’ll get you the regular kind.” He waved off his protests and brought down a glass and retrieved the carton from the fridge.

“Oh, thank you! I appreciate it.” For me? Surely he didn’t mean he actually got both options for me specifically…

“Of course. It’s the least I can do since you’re apparently going to be waiting here ‘til the new year.” He says a little louder so his nephew could hear.

“I’m coming! Jeez. Give a guy a break.” Eddie skids to a stop right in front of Steve and he has to rush to drink his eggnog so his mouth doesn’t do anything stupid like gape or drool or confess his darkest secrets like how he’s still very much in lo-

“Hi.” Eddie addresses him, “Merry Christmas, Stevie. You look handsome as ever.”

Steve suddenly wishes he had taken Wayne up on his original alcoholic ‘nog offer.

“Hi. Thanks, you too. Merry Christmas.” Steve says and definitely does not stutter, nope, not at all.

Eddie was wearing all black, his clothes looked new. Nothing he’d ever seen before and it didn’t even show the faded look black clothes get after just a few washes. Eddie dressed up for this.

He tries to ignore the thought but it comes anyway.

Eddie dressed up for me.

It hasn’t ever really happened before, but Steve feels underdressed in his classic Christmas sweater and Levi’s.

Steve breaths in and realizes he can’t smell Eddie’s scent either.

They stand in silence, lost in each other’s eyes until Uncle Wayne reminds them they had a party to attend to.

“Oh, right. Yeah, of course. We’re just… Running fashionably late.” Steve supplies as he suddenly remembers he left his engine running. “Oh shit. Yeah, we gotta go otherwise I may be out of gas or the battery will be dead or something.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, “You having car troubles or something? You know I can fix them for you.”

Of course Steve knew Eddie could fix his car, but he wouldn’t have gone to him even if he was having car troubles.

“No, I just left it running so it’d be warm for you.”

Wayne laughs at his confession before pushing them both closer to the door.

“Well you better get a move on then.”

“See you later, Wayne.”

“Yeah see you la—” Steve stops himself, biting his lip before deciding to continue his sentence. He likely would see Wayne later, he did have to drop Eddie back off later anyway.

He clears his throat. “See you later. Merry Christmas.”

Wayne acts like he’s somehow read Steve’s mind, if the look on his face is any indication. “Merry Christmas, son. Real nice seeing you.”

Steve blinked rapidly to control his urge to cry. “You too.”

Steve practically rushes out to his car before he’s slamming his door shut and buckling up as he waits for Eddie to meander over like they had all the time in the world.

“You ran outta there like your ass was on fire.” his ex states as he slides into Steve’s passenger side.

“Just want to make sure we get there.”

“You do?”

“Well, yeah.” He puts his car in reverse before pulling out onto the road. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well you seemed to deliberately try to sabotage your car.”

“I did not. As I said, I was trying to be nice and keep it warm for you. Excuse me for trying not to be a dick, I see that role’s already taken by you.”

Eddie hummed but shook his head, “You’re seriously not bothered about tonight?”

“What about it?” It’s stupid for Steve to ask. Of course he knows what Eddie’s onto.

He’s been dreading it since Halloween.

“About us pretending like everything is okay between us. You don’t think they’ll know? Or at least ask questions?”

“What kind of questions?” Steve really needs to stop doing this to himself. Maybe he’s a masochist.

Eddie shoots him a look like he’s really trying to understand Steve, like he’s trying to look into his soul.

“About why we still don’t have any pups.”

Steve flinches as if Eddie had just hit him rather than state the obvious.

“I don’t know.”

“They’re going to ask.” Eddie insists.

“I know.”

“So what do we say?”

“I don’t know! Jesus, it feels like we’re going in circles here.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel as Eddie sighs.

“They’re not young and dumb anymore. Sure they’re still a little stupid, but they’ll know it’s out of the norm.”

Steve has to stop himself from quirking a smile at that. They were still a little stupid.

“We tell them research shows not every mated couple has pups right away. That there’s a benefit to waiting.” As if they had a choice.

“Will they believe that?”

“You said it yourself, they’re still a little stupid.”

Eddie laughs despite himself, easing the knot coiling in Steve’s stomach.

“What if they insist something’s wrong? They took Sex Ed, you know.”

“Then we tell them our sex life is none of their business. Then I’ll ask them if they want to know how big your–”

“Okay! Okay, you win.” He laughs again, much harder this time. “As much as I enjoy a little flattery, let’s maybe not traumatize them more than they already are.”

“Hey, you asked.”

They drive in silence for the rest of the ride, only looking to one another as they pull up to the bustling house alive with lights and decorations.

Steve hadn’t even put any up this year, and thinking back on it the Munson trailer was pretty lacking too – except for a wreath on the door.

Eddie must be feeling bit more festive that Steve because he quickly pulls on a black santa hat from seemingly nowhere.

Steve worries his lip, too lost in thought to notice Eddie unbuckling and exiting.

Was he going to leave him here?

Steve doesn’t stress for too long, though, because he soon realizes Eddie is only moving around the front to open Steve’s door for him.

“Oh, thank you.” Steve accepts the hand to help him out.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Steve freezes at the term of endearment.

“Eddie,” he warns but Eddie only shakes his head.

“We’ll need to use them once we’re inside, right? I figured it’d be okay while we were outside too.”

Oh. Oh.

Of course it’s okay. Eddie was just playing along with Steve’s plan, after all, he’s the one who left him last Christmas. He’s the one who insisted they pretend like everything was okay.

“Right. Sorry. Just… Sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” Steve almost jerks at how earnest Eddie sounds. Not that Eddie hasn’t been serious before, but he just wasn’t expecting this. Not here.

“It’s fine.” Steve mumbles, mentioning how they should head in is just on the tip of his tongue.

“It’s not. I’m sorry. I know last year was rough on us, but I thought we were handling it good. I’m sorry you felt the need to leave but I completely understand. You shouldn’t be with an alpha who can’t even give you pups. I’m sorry I couldn’t be that for you, Stevie. I’m so sorry.”

Steve’s jaw drops. Eddie blinks away tears.

Before Steve can respond, before he can explain to Eddie that he’s got it all wrong, they’re interrupted by the front door opening.

“We’ve been watching you two flirt for five minutes, get inside and save it for the mistletoe!” Nancy shakes her head, curls bouncing all around, as the rest of their friends watch on from behind her or in the windows.

“We were just heading in!” Eddie calls back, big grin plastered on his face but only Steve saw how it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart.” he grabs Steve’s hand and pulls him along.

Steve is so fucked.

Luckily, dinner was ready for them when they got there. They’re friends all waiting on them to eat.

Robin eyes the fake couple, “What no surprise?”

“Um,” Steve looks to Eddie for help. “I thought we all agreed no presents?”

Nancy nods her head, “We did. But we thought there’d be a new member of the family by now. You could have at least brought a pie.”

“Oh. Um.”

Eddie scoffs, pulling Steve’s hand with him where he hadn’t let go yet to get away from the ambush.

“Hey, what we do in our spare time is our business not yours. Unless you want to know the details of our last time, Steve had–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don’t need details. Gross.” Robin scrunches her face up and quickly flees the room.

“Fair enough, come on, let’s eat. I hope you at least brought both of your appetites.” Nancy pats Steve and Eddie both on the back as she guides them to sit.

“Dinner, everyone!”

Steve and Eddie manage to get through their respective plates and even an array of desserts with mostly impersonal questions before Steve is excusing himself as he pushes his chair away from the table.

But to Steve’s misfortune Eddie excuses himself and follows behind him before they’re both being stopped by Robin.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably as he takes in the nine pairs of eager eyes and grins looking up at him. “Um, to the den? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Dustin points to the little poisonous plant dangling precariously above their heads.

“Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.”

Everyone chimes in, except Nancy who seems to realize something no one else has.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Steve really wishes Eddie hadn’t chosen to rise from his seat at the same time as him.

They make eye contact before Steve gives him a small nod, giving him the okay.

Eddie leans in capturing Steve’s chapped lips with his own for one chaste kiss.

“Oh, come on! My grandma kisses with more tongue than that.” Mike heckles them and the rest of the teens giggle along.

That doesn’t last long, though, because then Eddie is giving them a death glare making them all shut up.

Steve’s just about to escape when Eddie grabs his arm just light enough to get his attention. If Steve wanted to pull away he could.

“Can I talk to you outside?”

Steve sighs. He knew this was coming. “Yeah.”

“Oooh.” Max starts before they’re all giggling again but Eddie slams the door shut behind them, cutting off the laughter.

Muted colors wash over their faces, casting them in much more festive lights than Steve feels appropriate for this upcoming conversation.

“I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I try to give you space, but I still see you ‘round, you know? The grocery store, when you go for your runs, the mall. I see you. You never see me.”

Steve usually feels like someone’s watching him, but he’s never picked up on Eddie’s scent. He must have worn suppressants. He hid from him.

“Eds,”

“Happy Christmas”

“Happy Christmas?”

“Yeah, I always kinda liked it better than merry. And it’s what it is, you know? Christmas. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas. I’m sorry it’s not happier.”

“I’m sorry too. I know we said no presents...”

“Yeah?”

“I just had to get it for you, I couldn’t bear the thought that you didn’t have something to open. I know your parents are shit and the kids already weren’t doing anything. It’s just me. I had to.”

“Wait, you got me something?” Steve vaguely remembers receiving a package in the mail a week ago that he left buried under the junk mail and bills.

“Yeah, I did. You didn’t get it? I wrapped it up and sent it with–” he sighs, pulling off the black santa hat and running a hand through his hair. “With a note saying ‘I love you.’”

“Eddie,”

“I meant it, y’know? I love you. I meant it when I wrote it, I meant it when we made this whole thing official years ago. I mean it now.”

“What’d you get me?”

Eddie huffs a laugh more at himself than Steve, his face turning a deeper shade of red and Steve knew it wasn’t from the cold.

“A View-Master. But it has pictures of us from over the years. I know, it’s dumb. I just thought you’d see it and remember us.”

“That sound like it was incredibly hard to give me.”

“Oh, it was a bitch. But after I figured out how to get the tiny little pictures in the reel it was smooth sailing from there. The only thing I had to worry about was if you’d throw it out.”

Eddie misinterprets Steve’s silence and continues putting his foot in his mouth.

“Every time you kissed me I was convinced I must be dreaming. That I’d wake up some day and the version of you that loved me would have never existed. Eventually I started believing it but now I know what a fool I’ve been, but if you kissed me now, I know you’d fool me again.”

Steve couldn’t believe the words coming from Eddie’s mouth. He must be dreaming.

But he knows he’d not, because his dreams only ever showed them cuddled in bed in love. Or them with pups of their own. Or Eddie hating him, resenting him because they never separated.

This wasn’t a dream. This was Steve’s own personal nightmare.

He’d have to admit everything. He’d have to confront all of his feelings.

He’d have to deal with Eddie’s feelings, whether they be more heartbreak or the anger Steve’s been anticipating but never received.

“I was always supposed to be an alpha, or at least that’s what I was conditioned to be.” He starts, “When I presented as an omega, my life was shattered. Everything I was told I’d be was suddenly not possible anymore. But then you came into my life and everything made sense. I couldn’t imagine that other life anymore. All I knew was you and you were enough for me. All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

He wipes his palms on his jeans, realizing he forgot to grab his mitts. “Then when we… When I… When we realized… I was broken, you know? I am broken. First I’m not an alpha, but now I can’t even be a good omega? I left because you deserved better. I didn’t leave because I resented or blamed you! Eddie, I love you!” Steve’s mouth clamps shut as soon as the words leave it. There it is. Out in the open. The thing Steve had been trying to deny, the thing Eddie secretly still knew.

“You love me.” It wasn’t a question but Eddie still said it in disbelief.

“I love you.” Steve confirms, “Which is why I left you. I had to set you free.”

“Why?”

“If you love someone, you let them go. So that’s what I did.”

“I think you’re forgetting the very important part where if they come back to you then it’s meant to be. Stevie, I came back to you. So many times. I was practically nipping at your heels begging you to pay attention to me.”

“I forgot that part.”

Eddie’s brushing a curl of hair from Steve’s head, already planning his next words carefully.

“And I’d like to say, maybe if you’d let me, that you’ve come back to me too?”

Steve stepped closer, allowing Eddie to finally, finally wrap his arms around him. “It’s like I never left.”

“Good, because I choose you. Any day. Every day. For the rest of my life. No one could ever replace you, Stevie. I understand the life you want to give me, and trust me I wish i could give you that life too, but you’re who I want. The grass isn’t greener on the otherside. I know what I have here, in my arms, and I’m never letting you go.”

“I love you, Eddie. Thank you for loving me.”

“I love you too, Steve. You don’t have to thank me.” He kisses him with much more passion than he allowed himself just moments ago under the mistletoe.

When they break apart Eddie speaks again, “You can, however, thank me for the show I’m about to put on for those little peeping toms.”

He gestures at the window where heads duck on instinct.

Steve laughs, and Eddie thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s heard in a year, and it’s the best present he could ever receive.

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