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seiya-starsniper · 1 month

Note

I wish you would write a fic where...

…Hob is a little insecure about his body in comparison to Dream. Dream is wondering why his love only wants to have sex in the dark…

I need some hurt/comfort 🥹

Oh man friend, I started writing this thinking it wouldn't be super long and then 9.7k words later...😅

Still gonna post the whole thing on tumblr since this IS a tumblr prompt, but it's probably best read on AO3 for length reasons lmao. I hope you enjoy this angst train!

Cruel Summer - AO3

Also tagging @dreamlingbingo as I'm using this fill for my free space!

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The first time it happens, Dream doesn't think too much about it. There's not a lot of thinking going on period, not really. Dream's only focused on the touch and taste and feel of Hob Gadling’s body against his as they drunkenly make out against the latter’s front door.

They’d been out tonight celebrating with their friends, all of them having finally achieved some hard earned life goal. Matthew and Jessamy were engaged, and planning a marriage out on Cape Cod the following summer, Lucienne had gotten promoted as an archivist at Harvard, Mervyn had finally launched his own cybersecurity firm, and Dream had just signed a publishing deal for the novel he’d been working on for the past two years. His editing team was even based out of Boston, even if their main headquarters was in New York, which made Dream’s life much easier.

Hob…well. Hob’s celebration was more muted than the rest. He’d just landed a job at Harvard as well, working as a professor, so he and Lucienne were now technically coworkers. And while it was a fantastic opportunity with decent pay, and mostly free summers, it had come at the cost of his relationship with Eleanor, his longtime girlfriend.

Eleanor had accepted a job across the country working as a marketing lead for a lifestyle clothing brand based out of Seattle. She’d wanted the position more than anything, but Hob hadn’t wanted to move, so they broke up. Hob insists it was all amicable, and that he’d miss everyone too much if he’d actually left, but they all knew Hob had been thinking about proposing.

Dream knows all this, and yet, when it had just been the two of the left at the bar and Hob had started openly flirting with him alone, instead of just playfully flirting with every single one of their friends, Dream had decided, “why not”, and matched the other man’s energy until they were suddenly making out just outside the bar while they waited for the Uber Hob called for them. It’s still the beginning of summer and not terribly hot outside, but Dream’s still grateful for the cool AC of the car that eventually comes to get them to drive the short distance back to Hob’s apartment.

When Hob finally unlocks the door and they practically fall into the front hall, Dream messily kicks off his shoes and works his way towards undoing Hob’s belt in between kisses. Hob wrangles them down the hall and towards his bedroom and Dream thinks vaguely about turning on the lights when they finally cross the threshold. But then Hob pushes him down into the mattress and Dream stops thinking about anything at all.

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

The second time that it happens, a little over a month later, Dream is helping Hob clean up his apartment after their monthly movie night with their friends. They had all decided on rewatching Jurassic Park after Mervyn and Lucienne had gotten into a debate on whether or not dinosaurs looked stupid with or without feathers. But it had taken the group some time for them to even start the movie, since they had mostly gotten wrapped up with different bits of work and life gossip. It was rare that they were all able to get together like this, so the movie was a secondary concern for them.

During the movie, however, Matthew and Jessamy’s wedding planner called them about something that needed their attention immediately, and though they said it was fine to keep the movie running, they’d paused it anyways. Not even ten minutes after they wrapped up their call, Mervyn had to take a work call from a client suffering from some server issues.

Needless to say, it was nearly midnight by the time they finished the movie, and since only Dream and Hob had nothing to do the next morning, Dream had offered to stay late to help clean up and then crash on Hob’s couch for the night.

That is, at least, the story they tell their friends. The dishes and the food end up abandoned as Hob pushes Dream into the couch cushions and palms his cock through his black jeans. Dream moans and ruts beneath the other man, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling Hob in for a desperate, filthy kiss. They make out like teenagers for what seems like hours, the taste of buttery popcorn and overly sweet margarita mix mingled in every kiss. Dream isn’t nearly as drunk as he was that first night, but he’s got a pleasant buzz going, which really only adds to the whole illicit nature of what they’re doing. Neither of them had mentioned the first time they’d fucked to any of their friends, they’d barely talked about just between the two of them, really.

Dream had figured maybe they could talk about it tonight after everyone had gone home but well. He’d gotten distracted with Hob’s mouth.

When they finally move from the couch to the bedroom, Dream turns the lights on, but then Hob turns them right back off as Dream’s getting undressed.

“Are you one of those people who prefers to have sex in the dark?” Dream asks, laughing as Hob crawls on top of him, shedding his shirt and underwear along the way.

“Mmmm,” Hob says, putting his mouth on Dream’s neck instead of answering the question. Dream gasps as the other man bites down on that one sensitive spot just below his ear. “Don’t wanna get up later to turn them off.”

Dream hums, and that’s the end of that conversation as his mind floats away to far more interesting pursuits.

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

The third time almost feels like a date. Almost. They don’t exactly plan to get together, just the two of them, it just sort of happens because Matthew had gotten sick, and Jessamy hadn’t wanted to leave him alone to fend for himself. She also wasn’t entirely sure if she was contagious herself and wanted to be safe. Mervyn was on call for a client this weekend so he wasn’t going out with them anyways, and Lucienne had decided she’d rather stay at home and catch up on some of her backlogged work rather than attend the Oktoberfest event they’d all bought tickets to.

Hob had texted Dream individually and suggested they go out anyway, just the two of them, and Dream’s heart had stuttered in his chest when he’d read the message. Hob had suggested a new restaurant that had opened up near his apartment, and while it wasn’t necessarily a first date sort of place, it was still a bit nicer than any of the places they’d go with their friends for just drinks or a quick bite to eat.

Dream agonizes for over an hour on what he should wear, before he ultimately defaults to what feels most natural to him, black jeans and a solid black polo instead of his usual band t-shirt, which he then pairs with a charcoal gray blazer, just to look a little nicer. But not too nice, just in case this isn’t a date.

Hob, much to Dream’s disappointment, is in his regular outfit of a graphic tee and sweats when Dream arrives. He’s not terribly out of place in the restaurant, but he’s clearly not dressed to impress. He eyes Dream very appreciatively though, and doesn’t comment on why Dream’s a little more dressed up than usual. What he does do, however, is spend the evening whispering into Dream’s ear about how he’d like to peel that blazer off Dream and make him wear it while they fuck.

They only make it through a single round of drinks before they leave, with Hob leaving their server behind a more than generous tip for wrapping up their bill so quickly.

Hob wastes no time divesting Dream of his blazer and tossing it down the hallway towards the bedroom before turning his attention back to kissing Dream senseless. He sinks to his knees and Dream moans as the other man then works at peeling his jeans off so he can blow Dream right in the front hall, up against the front door where anyone can walk by and hear. It makes everything that much hotter.

Later, when all Dream is left wearing is his blazer and nothing else, Hob gets up from where they’re kissing on the bed to turn off the lights and Dream frowns.

“You can just leave the lights on,” Dream says, before he coyly spreads his legs and shows off his best seductive pose to tempt Hob back to bed. Hob stares, transfixed at Dream’s posturing, before he huffs and then clicks off the lights anyways. Dream groans in annoyance and Hob laughs before he kisses Dream again.

“Sorry, just easier with the lights off,” Hob says, not sounding sorry at all. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

But Dream does worry. He doesn’t in the moment, but he does later, when they’re lying beside each other, Hob snoring away while Dream thinks and thinks and thinks. He thinks about how Hob always wants the lights off, and how he never cuddles with Dream after sex. He thinks about how they really only ever get together when it's convenient, but they've never made plans on their own, at least, not since Hob and Eleanor have broken up.

Dream realizes, with a growing dread, that maybe Hob still isn't over Eleanor, that maybe all there is between them is sex, and nothing else. It makes an awful sort of sense; in the dark, Dream can't tell if Hob’s thinking about someone else, hoping for someone that's not Dream. Eleanor and Dream couldn't be anymore different but that hardly matters to a man with a broken heart. A warm body is a warm body after all, and Dream's the only other single person in their friend group.

If Hob's a little bit confused as to why Dream is a bit short with him in the morning he doesn't show it. Somehow that makes the pit in Dream's stomach worse.

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

The fourth time—there isn’t a fourth time because Dream fucks it all up.

Dream had met with his publisher earlier in the day, and the meeting had gone rather…poorly. His editor had straight up told him that he’d needed to make significant changes to the book, and Dream had argued until he was hoarse but to no avail. He’d then been told to go home and sleep on things, effectively being dismissed like a petulant child who’d thrown a tantrum in public.

Dream knew he had a good story. He also knew that some of the suggested changes were good ones, while others would fundamentally change the story he was trying to tell. But still, the sheer amount of changes had overwhelmed him, and Dream had lost his temper. He already knows, with a growing dread, that he’ll have to make some apologies the next day.

He’s about to go home, but Dream decides instead he’d like to get as drunk as humanly possible to wash the bitter taste of the day from his mind. He texts the group chat, and since it’s a Friday night, they all respond with enthusiasm to blow off some steam for the weekend. Everyone except for Hob, who says he’s not feeling like socializing tonight, but he’s sorry Dream had such a shitty day.

Dream tries not to be disappointed that Hob won’t show up. He wonders if he’d just invited Hob by himself, instead of texting their group, would he have come out, just for Dream? But they don’t do things like that, even with how long they’ve been friends. Before they started sleeping together, Hob and Dream had always just sort of existed together in the same circle of friends. Dream had actually met Eleanor first, and Hob only when they started dating. Dream has never spent any amount of alone time with Hob before now, and he still doesn’t know what sort of relationship they even have, if any at all.

Dream’s worries leave his mind when the others show up. Mervyn stays for only one round of drinks, and Matthew and Jessamy only two before they head out for the evening. They have an early appointment with the planner the next day to do some cake tastings. Lucienne stays the longest, though she really only nurses the same glass of wine the entire night. She talks Dream through his frustrations with his editors, and his overall story. She’s been with him every step of the way to getting this publishing deal, and Dream hasn’t told her yet, but she’s going to be the front page of his acknowledgements.

He’s so tempted to unload on her about Hob as well, but before he can gather the courage to broach the subject, she gets a text from someone and blushes furiously when she reads it. Dream pokes and prods until she admits she’s started seeing someone. Johanna. She’s not sure if it’s serious yet but well. They’re definitely physically compatible, and while she won’t show Dream her phone, he already knows she’s been sent something particularly provocative. So Dream lets her go, and then debates between ordering another drink or going home.

He does neither of those things, and instead pulls out his phone and texts Hob, outside their group chat. The alcohol has more than loosened Dream’s inhibitions and right now, he’s lonely and horny. Lucienne’s reserved but still elated expression as she had happily explained Johanna had made Dream miss Hob. So he texts the other man and tells him he’d like to come over.

Hob’s response isn’t what he’s hoping for: are you drunk?

Dream frowns at his phone and then his initial message: aree tou busy?? Can i comeocer?

Okay, maybe he was a little more drunk than he realized. He asks Hob if it matters, being careful this time to make sure he types everything out carefully, and then closes out his tab while he waits for a response. Nothing comes. Dream’s annoyed and disappointed, but not surprised, so he starts to make his way to the train platform to head home.

While he’s waiting, he finally gets a response back from Hob: okay. come over.

Dream changes platforms immediately and heads in the direction of Hob’s apartment.

When he arrives, Hob pushes a glass of water towards him, which Dream drinks down greedily. When he’s done, he joins Hob on the couch and crawls into his lap to kiss him, but Hob pushes him away after only a few moments. Dream lets out an annoyed noise when Hob does it again.

“Dream, not tonight,” Hob says, pushing him away when Dream tries to kiss him again.

“What do you mean?” Dream asks, now confused.

“I don’t want to have sex right now,” Hob replies, before he pushes Dream off of him and back onto the couch, going back to watching whatever crime drama he’d had on before Dream arrived.

Dream stares, open mouthed and hurt, as Hob decidedly ignores him for Netflix. He gets up angrily and stomps around the kitchen, tearing open the cabinets looking for something to eat, and also more water because now he has a pounding headache as his body struggles to sober up now that he’s no longer drinking.

“Dream!” Hob exclaims, getting up when Dream slams more than one cabinet door closed. “Come on, don’t be like this.”

“Like what?” Dream sneers, stuffing a potato chip into his mouth angrily. “I came all this way just to fuck you, didn’t I?”

“You’re drunk,” Hob points out.

“I’m always drunk when we have sex,” Dream argues, crossing his arms, chip bag still in hand. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“Yeah well, I’m not drunk now, and I’m also not in the mood,” Hob replies angrily.

“Then why the hell did you invite me over?” Dream growls.

“I don’t know!” Hob exclaims, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t thinking, obviously,” he adds, then gestures to Dream. “How was I supposed to know you’d be like this?”

Dream huffs, then carelessly tosses the bag of chips onto the counter. A few stray chips scatter across the counter, but Dream doesn’t care. Clearly Hob didn’t want him around, not for sex, and definitely not to comfort Dream after the awful day he’d had, so there was no point in staying.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Dream says, moving towards the door where he’d kicked off his shoes. He decides he’ll check the train times on the walk over.

“Dream,” Hob says, grabbing his arm before he can make it to the hallway. “It’s late. Come on. Let’s go to sleep.”

“I can get home on my own just fine,” Dream argues, raising his chin defiantly.

“No,” Hob replies, his voice stern as he grips Dream’s arm tighter. “Come on, let’s just go to bed. You need to sleep this off.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Dream says, yanking his arm out of Hob’s grip. “Since you’re not interested in fucking my bad day out of me.”

“Dream, stop being so fucking difficult!” Hob yells, shocking both of them.

The echo of Hob’s roar hangs tensely between them, and Hob steps back from Dream with a hand over his mouth, clearly horrified at what he’s done. Dream also feels the prick of tears in his eyes as he processes just how angry Hob actually has been with him all night.

How the hell had this night gotten worse? Dream doesn’t know, but what he does know is that he needs to leave before he starts drunkenly crying in Hob’s apartment, and Hob is the last person Dream wants to see him like this.

Dream tries making his way towards the door again, but Hob seems to regain his senses and physically blocks him. Dream tries to push him, then tries to hit Hob’s shoulder to make him move, but Hob grabs Dream’s wrist to stop him.

“I’m sorry,” Hob says, his voice much softer this time, laced with regret and pity. Dream hates it. “I lost my temper, I shouldn’t have done that,” he adds.

“Fuck off!” Dream yells, and oh. No. No, no, no, no. Dream furiously blinks back the tears before they can start falling, even if he can’t stop the pained hiccups that betray his emotional state from leaving his mouth.

“Just—” Dream gasps, then forces himself to breathe, slow and deep, and then counts to five. “Let me go home. You don’t—” his breath hitches again, cutting off what he wants to say. Fuck. He couldn’t even string together a full sentence if he tried.

“Dream, please,” Hob replies, his voice practically begging now. “Don’t leave. I don’t want you going home alone like this.” Dream turns to meet Hob eyes, and his anger dissipates slightly when he sees how devastated Hob looks.

Despite how awful Dream feels, even he knows it’d be a mistake to go home in his current state. He’s highly emotional, drunk, and likely wouldn’t be paying attention to his surroundings. He could get mugged, or worse.

“Fine,” Dream finally relents. Hob lets out a sigh of relief, and hugs him. Dream doesn’t hug him back. He’s still angry after all.

But Dream lets Hob wrangle him down the hall to the bedroom, and then he strips down to his underwear to sleep, since he doesn’t have any of his own clothes here. And why would he? It’s not like they’re anything other than an occasional hookup after all.

Hob does offer Dream a shirt and pajama pants to wear, but Dream tosses them away from him without so much as a second glance. Hob sighs at Dream, and then shuts off the lights, turning away from Dream without another word to sleep. He’s clearly still frustrated with Dream too.

Dream lies there next to Hob, feeling cold and rejected and lonely. He hates everything about this. Hates that Hob let him come over and make a fool out of himself when he could have easily just told Dream to fuck off and go home instead. Hates that Hob even came onto him in the first place, all those months ago, and now they’re here, in this weird in-between state where they're together but not together.

Dream realizes too late that he really hadn’t cared if they had sex or not either. He’d wanted comfort more than anything, comfort from Hob specifically. But the only comfort he knew that came from Hob was sex. And that’s the worst part of it. Dream knows now, without a doubt, that he has feelings for Hob. That he wants more out of this than what they’re doing now, but he’s not sure Hob does. At this point, he’s too afraid to ask.

Hob’s bedroom suddenly feels like a suffocating prison as all of Dream’s feelings hit him at once. He’s going to cry again if he stays, and he really doesn’t want Hob to see him like this. He doesn’t want Hob to know just how badly he’s gotten under Dream’s skin.

Dream realizes he needs to leave. He’s stone cold sober now, having laid here in the dark with nothing but his thoughts and his third glass of water now emptied on the bedside table. He listens carefully for the evening out of Hob’s breath, then shuffles around in bed to see if any of his movements disturb the other man. When he’s certain that Hob is deep in sleep, Dream hurriedly dresses himself, checks to see that there’s still trains running this late at night, and then rushes out when he sees the next one is in just 15 minutes. Hob lives about 12 minutes from the nearest station. Dream can make it if he runs.

The front door slams loudly behind him as he leaves, but Dream doesn’t care. Hob probably won’t even notice that he’s gone.

Dream makes it to the station just as the train is pulling into the stop. As he’s getting on, he hears yelling and frantic running, the sounds of someone about to miss the train. Dream considers holding the doors until he sees just who's rushing towards the train.

It's Hob. Hob who is barely dressed, and running down the steps to the train platform in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. He catches Dream's eyes and waves frantically to get his attention. Dream’s heart flutters momentarily, and he imagines that maybe he was wrong about everything after all. That maybe there’s more to what’s been happening between them than just rebound sex.

Dream gets on the train anyways, and the doors shut just as Hob reaches the platform, and the train pulls away.

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

They pretend like nothing is wrong after that night. Hob had texted Dream the next morning to ask if he’d gotten home okay, and Dream had left him on read. He had far more important things to worry about that morning, like his pounding headache and the fact that he needed to talk to his editor at some point.

When he finally fights off the last of his hangover, Dream has a much more pleasant conversation with his editing team, who he apologizes to for losing his temper. His team apologizes to him as well, which he doesn’t expect, but they reassure him it’s their job to encourage him, not discourage him from writing. They have a candid conversation about communication, and then agree on a plan to move forward with his book.

Dream happily shares the good news with his group chat, still ignoring the direct message from Hob. He credits Lucienne for talking him off the ledge the night before, and the flood of positive and congratulatory messages flows easily after that. Even from Hob.

Dream sighs when he reads the other man’s message in their group chat, then flips back to their private conversation. He really should apologize for his behavior as well, but he has no idea how to explain himself without revealing more than he’s comfortable with. So Dream turns off his phone, and goes back to working on his novel, hoping that maybe he’ll come up with something to say later in the evening.

He never does end up replying. Hob doesn’t privately message him either after that.

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

It’s trivia night at the White Horse, and Dream would normally be excited to go and show off his arcane knowledge, but tonight he’s dreading the occasion. It’s been a month since he and Hob had last seen each other and he really has no idea how he’s supposed to act around the other man. Do they pretend like nothing ever happened between them? They haven’t spoken since, so things were clearly over between them.

Dream’s still trying to tell himself it’s better this way. They were hurtling towards disaster, and Dream should’ve really known better, should’ve known that he really can’t do casual after all, and now he’s probably permanently fucked up his friendship with Hob because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check. He still hasn’t apologized, he doesn’t know if Hob even wants an apology from him at this point, or if he just wants to forget about everything that ever happened between them.

So when Dream’s sister texts him and tells him she’s in town for a few days, Dream jumps at the opportunity to meet her and cancel on trivia night plans. He receives a variety of boos and ‘we’ll lose without you!’ responses, all of which make him smile despite himself. Even Hob laments the loss of Dream’s knowledge for the evening.

When Dream arrives at The New Inn later that night, it’s not only his sister that greets him. Eleanor is with her. Dream hasn’t seen her since she and Hob broke up. When she’d moved across the country, she left the group chat and hasn’t really talked to anyone since. Dream had missed her, if he were being honest with himself. Even though Hob had said the breakup was amicable, and that Eleanor had only left the chat because she couldn’t be part of their plans any longer, Dream was still sad to see her go. He realizes he could’ve tried harder to keep in touch with her, but then everything with Hob had happened and well.

Dream wants to hug Eleanor and also scream at her. Wants to unload what a horrible last month he’s had, and also wants her to never find out he’d been sleeping with her ex. It’s not her fault that Dream fell into bed with Hob knowing he wasn’t over his relationship with her yet. It’s entirely her fault for being so perfect, however, that there’s no way Dream could ever compare, and that’s why Hob won’t look at him when they have sex.

When they had sex. Dream and Hob have barely spoken since that night, and only in their group chat. He’s pretty sure Hob doesn’t want to even be in the same room as Dream right now, for how ugly Dream had acted over what was supposed to be just a casual hookup.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, Ellie,” Dream says, giving both her and his sister a hug before taking a seat across from them. “But what are you doing back in town?”

“Dream—” Didi starts, but then Eleanor places a hand on her shoulder and stops her.

“We’re dating,” Eleanor says bluntly, moving her hand from Didi’s shoulder down to her hand. Their fingers interlace and Dream’s eyes boggle as he looks between them, shocked.

“When did this happen?” he asks, settling himself in for what must be an extremely interesting story.

Eleanor and Didi take turns recalling the story of how they met through a local meetup for knitters in Seattle, and how Didi had recognized Eleanor from one time she’d come out drinking with Dream and his friends years ago. Happy to have a familiar face, Didi and Eleanor had become fast friends, and they both realized they had a lot in common too.

Before either of them knew it, Eleanor was inviting Didi out everywhere as they explored their new city together, and Didi became accustomed to calling Eleanor after every shift at the hospital. One thing led to another, and then another, and now they’re practically attached at the hip. Didi even shyly admits they’ve talked about moving in together.

The two of them beam at him when they’re done with their story and Dream wants to congratulate them. Wants to be happy that his favorite sister is dating one of his oldest friends. He wants to make plans to visit them in their new home, maybe even help them move if he can work out the logistics. He hasn’t been out to Seattle in some time, and he really could use a vacation.

“I started sleeping with Hob after you left,” is what Dream says instead.

Eleanor spits her (thankfully white) wine all over Didi, who freezes in place, staring at Dream in shock. Dream stares back, horrified both at what he just said, and what followed after. He braces himself, expecting Eleanor to explode on him, to call him a slut, a bad friend, a terrible human being.

Instead, Eleanor starts laughing. Didi does too eventually.

“Oh my god, of course he did,” Eleanor wheezes as she doubles over in her seat. Their server rushes over, bringing some extra napkins and Didi excuses herself to the restroom to wipe off the rest of the wine. Dream and Eleanor are left staring at one another in silence, before Eleanor breaks the tension with another giggle.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m not laughing at you, really, just the whole situation. Imagine if you brought Hob with you tonight?” she practically squeals.

“I—you’re not mad?” Dream asks, more shocked than anything. Eleanor just shrugs and drinks from her water glass this time, instead of her wine.

“I mean, did Hob at least wait a day before he tried to make a move on you?” Eleanor asks. “Not that it matters really, we were broken up before I left but well, you know. Respectful turnaround time and all that.”

“I—” Dream stutters, trying desperately to recall when that first time with Hob actually happened. “I mean, I think it was a few weeks after you left?”

Eleanor snorts. “Good enough, I guess.”

“Sorry,” Dream says, shaking his head as Didi returns and sits back down next to Eleanor. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. Did you know he wanted to—?”

“Oh no, no,” Eleanor says then starts laughing again. “Our breakup wasn’t planned or anything, don’t worry. It’s just that, well. He told me he wanted to stay with you guys more than me, so I’m not that surprised?”

“What?” Dream says, dumbly. “But you both said the breakup was mutual.” Eleanor sighs.

“I mean,” she replies. “It was technically mutual. But Hob wanted to stay in Boston, and I didn’t. And one of our last arguments before I left was about abandoning our friends.” She shrugs again. “I love you all, don’t get me wrong, but I really love living out in Seattle more. Especially the company.” She smiles at Didi, who kisses her on the cheek. “It kind of sucked that Hob really didn’t want to move, but it wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to do it all just for me and my career goals.”

“Oh,” Dream says dumbly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Dream wouldn’t have wanted to leave Boston for any reason either, so it makes sense, he thinks. Boston is just that. It’s home.

“It’ll make double dating a little weird, though,” Eleanor adds, and Didi laughs.

“I think we’ll be fine though,” Didi adds, then turns her focus to Dream. “So tell us about you and Hob,” she says.

“I—we’re not,” Dream stammers, unsure of how to proceed further with the conversation. Eleanor and Didi’s expressions both fall.

“Oh, Dream,” Didi says, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine,” Dream says though he feels anything but. “I don’t—it didn’t last long between us,” he admits.

“Wow, he fumbled the bag on you?” Eleanor interjects, shock clearly painted on her face. “My god, he really is an idiot.”

“No I—we had a fight,” Dream says, unsure of why he feels the need to clarify. “It was my fault really. I shouldn’t have—he wasn’t ready to commit.”

Eleanor makes a confused face.

“That—doesn’t sound like Hob,” Eleanor says after a moment, and Dream huffs in annoyance.

“You only knew him while you were dating, how would you know that?” Dream retorts.

“Because he told me he’s never done casual,” Eleanor replies. “When we first started seeing each other, he basically said just that. That’s what I liked about him, he wanted to do the whole commitment thing right away, even if it didn’t end up working out.”

“Well maybe he’s changed,” Dream says, far more grumpily than he intended. “He’s never said shit to me about anything, and still hasn’t, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Dream,” Didi says gently, squeezing his hand. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine,” Dream insists, not wanting to go into the details of how he’d terribly fucked up his situation with Hob.

“You don’t sound fine at all,” Didi replies.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation at dinner though?” Eleanor interjects, looking concernedly at him. Dream huffs and then pouts. Eleanor was always hyper attuned to when people were upset, especially Dream.

But Dream does want to talk about it, even if it is a bit awkward, all things considered. Eleanor seems to at least be willing to hear Dream out, if nothing else.

They wrap up their bill quickly, taking some of their dinner to go, and find their way over to Dream’s apartment, where he spends the rest of the night wrapped up in a blanket while he recounts the past six months to his sister and Eleanor. There’s also, perhaps, a lot of wine involved. Solely because Eleanor had decided it was also girls night and they needed a lot of wine for a proper one.

“I’m going to murder him myself,” Eleanor says, holding up her bottle of wine when Dream finishes telling her everything that had happened up until now.

“El, no,” Dream whines. He’s really more embarrassed about the whole situation now than anything. Talking things over with the two of them had really helped, and Dream wonders if he should’ve talked to Lucienne, or even Jessamy and Matthew to start. Maybe he wouldn’t have let things go so far the way they did between him and Hob.

“Nah, he deserves it,” Eleanor replies, taking another swig from her bottle.

“It’s really my fault,” Dream tries to insist, knowing it’s useless to defend Hob to his own ex. “I knew he wasn’t over you and I—”

“No, Dream, listen to me,” Eleanor says, taking Dream’s face in her hands. “He never—” she turns away from him suddenly and then burps. Dream laughs, despite himself.

“He never what?” Dream asks when Eleanor turns back to face him. She sighs.

“He never told you why he turns off the lights, and that’s on him,” Eleanor tells him.

“I—what?” Dream says dumbly. Hob turned off the lights with Eleanor too?

“Yeah, he—” Eleanor hiccups and then starts giggling. She releases Dream’s face and then falls back onto Didi, who’s sitting behind her on the couch. “He’s sensitive, you know? About—” she gestures at her front, “All the hair he has. Hates it when people see it. I think we had sex with the lights on like, twice, at most.” She pauses and then regards Dream, her expression sombering. “I thought you knew.”

“Why would I know that?” Dream asks, dumfounded. Hob had never given any indicator that he was sensitive about any part of his body, and no one in their friend group had ever commented on it.

“Because,” Eleanor replies, gesturing wildly. “Think about it. Whenever we went to the beach or anything together, did you ever see him take his shirt off? Or at the pool at Matthew and Jessamy’s place?”

“I—” Dream filters through his memory, which is an especially difficult task considering how drunk they are. He realizes that Eleanor’s right.

“Shit.” Dream groans. “I think I fucked up.”

“No, no, he did,” Eleanor insists. “I always told him I didn’t mind all the hair,” she adds then sighs. “I mean it’s a lot, but it never bothered me, you know?”

“It’s never bothered me either,” Dream admits. He’d rather liked the differences in their bodies actually. Hob was broad where Dream was lanky, naturally tan and sunkissed where Dream was pale. Dream had never had an opinion on chest hair before, what little hair he’d had it was so fine and thin that his chest looked bare anyways. But Eleanor was right. Dream had never really seen Hob casually uncovered. And while he was always eager to undress Dream when the lights were still on, Hob almost never fully undressed himself until after he’d shut them off.

It seems so obvious now, in retrospect. But Dream had been caught up in his own insecurities to really notice that Hob had any of his own to address.

“I honestly thought he didn’t want to look at me when he turned off the lights,” Dream confesses. “That maybe he was hoping he could pretend I was someone else in the dark.”

“Okay, I’m with my girlfriend,” Didi says suddenly, a murderous look in her eyes. “I’m a doctor, I can make it look like an accident,” she adds, holding up her weird hand mixed cocktail that has hot sauce in it.

“Didi!” Dream exclaims. “No murder,” he orders, then laughs at the absurdity of the entire situation. They all start laughing, and Dream feels something unwind in his chest when they do. He thinks about texting Hob, but ultimately decides against it. What he wants to tell him, he wants to do it sober, and in person.

Dream wakes up the next morning extremely hungover, and orders breakfast for delivery. Didi and Eleanor try to insist on paying him back, but he waves away their money, and tells them they can buy him dinner when he flies out to see them move. They both hug him fiercely on their way out and make him promise to see them at least one more time before they fly back to Seattle.

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

A week after his conversation with his sister and Eleanor, Dream is outside Hob’s apartment door, pacing nervously as he rehearses everything he wants to say to Hob. His apology. His request to start things over, if Hob still wants to try. How he’s really been feeling about their whole not-relationship status.

Really, he’s just stalling knocking on Hob’s door. What if Hob doesn’t answer when he sees it’s Dream? What if he tells Dream to go away without even hearing him out? What if—

Dream groans and then mentally slaps himself. He needs to stop worrying himself unnecessarily. Either Hob will want to hear him out or he won’t. But Dream needs to at least try.

He’s about to raise his hand to finally knock on the door, when suddenly he hears Hob’s voice, distinctly from not inside the apartment.

“Dream?” Hob asks. Dream turns in the direction of his voice and finds Hob standing at the end of the hall, groceries in hand. Dream realizes he’s been an idiot standing in front of a completely empty apartment.

“Hi,” Dream says, every rehearsed speech and romantic gesture he’d just been rehearsing evaporating from his mind like wisps of smoke.

“Hi,” Hob replies, his voice flat. He looks tired, but not angry at least, to see Dream. “Did you need something?” he asks as he walks slowly towards his front door, eyeing Dream a little suspiciously. Dream can’t really blame him. Their last interaction had ended rather poorly.

“I—can we talk?” Dream asks, stepping aside so Hob can put his key in the lock. Hob sighs and his shoulders droop, like he’s been dreading this exact situation.

“Sure,” Hob replies, putting on a fake cheerful demeanor as he opens the door to let himself and Dream in.

“Do you need help with anything?” Dream asks, trailing Hob towards the kitchen.

“If you want,” Hob replies, setting the groceries down onto the counter. But before Dream can start unpacking anything, he sighs again and groans.

“Actually, Dream,” Hob says, turning around and facing him head on. “Let’s just talk now.”

“Uhm—okay,” Dream replies, now feeling incredibly nervous. Hob looks at him expectantly, crossing his arms as he waits for Dream to gather his thoughts.

Finally, Dream says, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. About everything that happened last time I was here.”

His apology seems to surprise Hob, who suddenly straightens up from his leaning position against the counter.

“Oh,” Hob replies, sounding dumbstruck. “I—I’m sorry too,” he offers, uncrossing his arms and running a hand through his hair. Dream realizes it’s longer than the last time he’d seen it. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you that night.”

“To be fair, I was being an ass,” Dream admits, even though it pains him to do so.

“Yeah but you had a reason to be,” Hob says. “I was just feeling sorry for myself for no reason and I took it out on you.”

“I still took my shitty day out on you,” Dream replies, shrugging. “So I guess we were both not at our best that night.”

“I guess not,” Hob accepts, with a small smile. “We’re okay then?”

Dream nods. “Yes,” he says, offering a small smile himself, then stepping towards Hob. “Why were you feeling sorry for yourself?” Hob’s expression shutters closed again, and he shakes his head.

“It’s not important,” he says, turning away and refusing to meet Dream’s eyes.

“Hob,” Dream says, taking another step closer and reaching out to take the other man’s hand in his. “It’s important to me,” he adds.

Hob sighs, and then turns his eyes to the ceiling. When he meets Dream’s gaze again, he looks pained.

“I’m not good at being casual Dream,” Hob tells him bluntly, and Dream feels a sense of deja vu run through him like a live wire. “If we’re going to keep doing…this, I want there to be a commitment. It’s not just sex to me.”

It’s almost identical to what Eleanor had said about Hob to Dream a week prior. Dream suddenly feels wretched for not noticing sooner, but also indignant, because why had Hob assumed that wasn’t what Dream wanted as well?

“Hob,” Dream says, as calmly as he can manage, before he squeezes Hob’s hand tightly. “What made you think I didn’t want the same things?”

Hob’s face falls. He looks intently at Dream’s face, and whatever he finds there only seems to upset him further.

“I—I don’t know,” Hob admits, before he groans and places his free hand over his face. Dream finds it a bit comforting that he hasn’t tried to remove Dream’s hand over his other one.

“I’ve read this whole thing wrong, haven’t I?” Hob says through his hand, before slapping his forehead. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not,” Dream says, before he takes Hob’s free hand as well. “And to be fair,” he adds, “it’s occurred to me recently that I may have, as well. We’ve never talked about—about this,” he gestures between them. “Us. We just sort of skip to the sex.”

“Well, we have been drunk every time,” Hob replies. “You said so yourself.”

“Not—every time,” Dream says. “After Matthew got food poisoning, when I thought that you had invited me out on a date, we only had one drink each that we didn’t finish.”

“Wait,” Hob stutters, his whole body going rigid. “You thought I had invited you out for a date? That’s why—,” his eyes widen suddenly. “That’s why you wore the blazer.”

Dream blushes furiously and now it is his turn to look away from Hob’s scrutinizing gaze. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“No I’m not I—,” Hob groans again, and then, unexpectedly, pulls his hands free before dropping his head down on Dream’s shoulder. Dream startles when he feels Hob’s arms suddenly wrap around his waist shortly after.

“I had no idea. None at all,” Hob confesses, then groans again. “God I would’ve taken you somewhere nicer if I knew you wanted it to be a date.”

Dream shrugs, then reaches up to pat Hob on the back. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Not really, but we can agree to disagree,” Hob replies, before he tilts his head slightly up to look at Dream “Can I get a do-over on that then?” he asks. “Take you out on a proper date?”

Dream wants that, he realizes. Desperately. So he nods.

“I do want that,” Dream says honestly. “But—”

“Oh God, there’s a ‘but’,” Hob groans before he straightens and untangles himself from Dream. Dream already misses the warmth of Hob’s body.

“It’s not a bad ‘but’,” Dream replies. “But there’s something that’s been bothering me since we—since all this started,” he finishes. “I want to make sure we’re really on the same page.”

Hob nods. “Okay, sure. What is it?” he asks.

Dream takes a deep breath to brace himself, and then looks Hob directly in the eye. Now or never, he supposes.

“Why do you turn off the lights?” Dream asks.

Hob blinks, slow, then suddenly blushes a furious red before he buries his face in his hands.

“Aw, come on Dream,” Hob sighs. “It’s really embarrassing.”

Dream softens a bit, but remains resolute. Eleanor had told him what she thought had been the problem all along, but he still needs to hear it from Hob himself.

“I need to know, Hob,” Dream insists.

“Why?” Hob asks, then sighs again. “I mean, I don’t know, it’s pretty obvious isn’t it? I’m not really much to look at, you know,” he says, gesturing to himself.

“Not much to look at?” Dream asks, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“I know, it’s stupid,” Hob sighs, running a hand over his face. “But I mean, Dream, look at you. You’re gorgeous and I’m…I don’t know, not that?”

“I’m still not following,” Dream says, still confused but also growing more and more uneasy about what Hob is implying. “Did you…did you really not think I was attracted to you? At all?”

“No, I—I just—,” Hob stutters. “I don’t know what I thought, honestly,” he says, looking guilty. “I just—I’m not as confident as you about how I look naked,” he adds, gesturing to his front, and Dream’s heart sinks at the confirmation of yet another thing Eleanor had told him. “I thought…maybe you’d change your mind about being with me. If you saw, well— everything.”

“Everything,” Dream replies flatly.

“I mean, you know I’m really…hairy,” Hob says, before he winces. “And well, I’m not really in shape or anything like that either…” he trails off, looking even more guilty with every new word that comes out of his mouth. Like he’s only just realizing now that he pushed his anxieties about his body onto Dream, who clearly hasn't noticed any of the things Hob's insecure about.

“So…what?” Dream says, suddenly feeling indignance and hurt creep into his voice. “You just assumed I wouldn’t find you attractive unless I was drunk and we had sex in the dark?”

“Wait, what?” Hob exclaims.

“Am I really that shallow sounding to you?” Dream continues, already feeling his emotions start to get the better of him.

“No, oh god, no,” Hob replies immediately. “Dream, I don’t know what’s brought this on, but swear it had nothing to do with you. I was just stupid and insecure about myself, and I wasn’t thinking properly. I’m sorry, I really had no idea it bothered you so much.”

A somewhat tense and awkward silence falls between them. Dream mulls over what Hob has told him, feeling wretched about how deeply they’ve both misunderstood one another. But he had come here to clear those misunderstandings after all. Hob had admitted his insecurities. Now Dream had to as well.

“I actually thought—” Dream says, then takes a shuddering breath to calm himself. “I thought you turned the lights off because you didn’t want to look at me,” he finally admits. “Because I wasn’t who you really wanted to be with.”

Hob’s eyes widen, first in shock, then horror. “Wait you thought that I—”

“Was using me as a stand-in for Eleanor?” Dream finishes. He wraps his arms around himself and then looks away, refusing to meet Hob’s eyes. He feels like a coward for doing so but Dream knows he’ll lose his resolve to admit everything he’d been bottling up if he does. “The first time we slept together, I assumed you were only looking for a rebound. And when we never talked about it after, or told our friends I—”

“Fuck, Dream,” Hob interrupts, grabbing him suddenly and hugging Dream to his chest. “I had no idea, I—fuck, I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

Dream sniffles, wrapping his own arms around Hob, shrugging helplessly.

“I should have said something sooner,” Dream says. “But I let it—fester instead. I had no idea that you thought you weren’t attractive to me either. But Hob,” he adds, turning his head to meet Hob’s eyes again, hoping he looks as serious as he feels. “I don’t just sleep with people I’m not attracted to. Regardless of how much alcohol is involved.”

Hob nods. “Yeah. I—I’m still sorry about everything though.”

“Me too,” Dream replies, then adds, a bit more quietly. “I like the hair, actually.” Hob chokes out a noise that seems half between a laugh and a sob.

“You don’t have to say—” he starts but Dream shushes him.

“I mean it, Hob,” Dream says, before he works a hand between them to pet the small patch of hair peeking out from beneath Hob’s shirt. “I think it suits you. And I would like to be able to fully appreciate it.”

When he looks up at Hob, the other man’s eyes are a bit watery. But then Hob blinks rapidly, and sniffles, before he hugs Dream even more tightly to himself.

“Stay the night?” Hob asks. “Not for—not for sex. Just stay with me?”

Dream nods against Hob’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Hob makes a decision to order takeout instead of making dinner like he originally planned, citing that he’d rather spend time talking with Dream anyways. They still put away the groceries, which helps release a lot of the emotional tension that had built up between them, and Dream enjoys the warm, domestic feel of the activity.

Once their food arrives, they settle on Hob’s couch and talk late into the night about everything and nothing. Hob catches Dream up on what missed during trivia when he was out with Didi, and Dream shyly admits that Didi had not been the only person he’d talked to that evening. Hob stares at him, equal parts awestruck and mortified, as Dream recalls his conversations with Eleanor and Didi, and how he found out they were dating.

“So what you’re saying is, I’m lucky to have my bits still attached?” Hob jokes.

“Hob,” Dream chastises him, bumping their shoulders together. “That’s not nice.”

“You didn’t date Eleanor,” Hob retorts. “She’s terrifying, do you know how many serial killer documentaries she used to watch?”

Dream did, in fact, know this. He had been subject to many episodes of Cold Case Files growing up with Didi, and his knowledge had been how he and Eleanor had first become friends. Dream suspects Eleanor’s deep passion for them is actually one of the reasons why she and Didi get along so well.

“Hob,” Dream says, a new worry now crossing his mind. “Are you—okay—with all of this?” he waves vaguely. “With Didi dating your ex while we—?” He trails off. They still haven’t really decided on what their official relationship status would be going forward, and Dream doesn’t want to presume.

Hob nudges Dream with his shoulder, and then kisses the top of his head.

“Yeah, I am,” Hob answers sincerely. “I mean—it’s never not going to suck that we broke up,” he adds. “But we had our time, and if she’s happy then I’m happy too.”

Dream nods. “That’s good to hear,” he says.

“Are you okay with it?” Hob asks. Dream hums.

“I am,” he answers, then huffs a laugh. “I did offer to help them move into their new place, though.”

Hob groans. “Does this mean I have to help too as part of my good boyfriend duties?” he asks.

Dream’s potsticker falls out of his mouth mid chew, hits his knee, and then falls to the floor.

“Shit!” Dream exclaims, putting his food on the coffee table before bending down to pick up the stray dumpling.

“I—did I say something wrong?” Hob asks, worry now clear in his voice. Dream shakes his head and then flops against Hob’s shoulder.

“You said nothing wrong,” Dream says into Hob’s shoulder, his face now flushed with embarrassment. “I was just surprised, is all. You—you said it so easily.”

“Boyfriend, you mean?” Hob asks, now in a teasing tone. “Do you like it?”

Dream nods, feeling ridiculous about being done in by a single word. But Hob doesn’t seem to mind.

“I like it too,” is all he says, before he places a hand underneath Dream’s chin and kisses him.

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

As they’re getting ready for bed, Dream feels a thrum of excitement, even though they’ve still agreed that sex is off the table for the night. They’re both far too tired and emotionally drained from the evening to put in the effort anyways.

But then Hob is holding out his arm for Dream to snuggle into, and Dream feels like a teenanger as he curls up against Hob’s chest and rests his head on it.

“Fair warning that you’re going to wake up sweaty if you stay here all night,” Hob tells him. Dream knows he doesn’t mean to sound so self-deprecating, but now that he knows just how deep Hob’s insecurities run, it breaks his heart a little.

“That’s fine,” Dream says, pressing himself even closer. He can feel Hob’s chest hair poking through the thin material of his undershirt. Dream rubs his face into it, enjoying the rough, scratchy texture against his check. Hob laughs at Dream’s actions, and Dream hums in contentment. He really did like the feel of Hob’s chest hair. It was surprisingly soft in certain places, and warm. Maybe Dream would wake up because he’s too warm in the middle of the night. Maybe he won’t. He’s just glad that now he gets the opportunity to find out.

“You don’t have to pretend to be enthusiastic about it,” Hob says as Dream nuzzles him again.

“I’m not,” Dream replies, rolling his eyes. “It feels…nice.”

“Sure,” Hob replies. “Say that again in the morning.”

Dream does in fact, say something similar to that effect in the morning. He says it while he sits atop Hob’s lap, Dream gripping the thick pelt of hair for purchase as he ruts himself desperately against Hob.

They’ve never had sex in the morning. In the bright light of day. Somehow it’s even more intimate than what Dream imagines having sex with the lights on must feel like and he loves it. Hob is looking at Dream like he’s something divine, like he can’t quite believe that what they’re doing is really happening. Dream thinks he’ll never let Hob turn off the lights again when they do this. He never again wants to miss a single second of seeing the way Hob looks at him, at how stunning Hob’s entire body looks and feels when pressed against Dream’s. His new goal, for however long it takes, is that Hob never questions Dream’s attraction to him ever again.

When they’ve both reached their peaks, Dream collapses on top of Hob, uncaring of the sticky mess between them. Hob’s chest is warm and broad, and Dream finds himself slowly drifting back to sleep. Hob groans after a while, however, wriggling beneath the weight of Dream's body, and disturbing his otherwise peaceful post-coital rest.

“Okay, this is sweet and all, but now I’m the one that's too hot,” Hob whines, pushing gently at Dream’s shoulder. Dream laughs, a brazen, awful honking noise that he’s always been insecure about. But Hob had told him the night before that he loves Dream’s laugh, and Dream can see now that the other man wasn’t lying. He’s looking at Dream softly, so full of affection that Dream nearly forgets he needs to move and just stares at Hob for a while.

“What?” Hob asks, his eyes crinkled with happiness.

“Nothing,” Dream replies, smiling back before he moves off of his boyfriend’s chest.

Hob gets up from the bed once Dream rolls off of him and heads towards the bathroom. He comes back with two warm washcloths to wipe themselves off with. When they’re both done, he tosses both cloths in the direction of the hamper, missing his target by mere inches.

“Close enough,” Hob says.

“That’ll leave a wet spot on your carpet,” Dream tells him, already seeing his prediction start to come true.

“I’ll get to it later,” Hob replies before he kisses Dream, languid and slow and perfect. “I have more important things to do today.”

#dreamling #dream of the endless/hob gadling #hob x morpheus #dreamling bingo #dreamling bingo 2024 #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling #angst angst angst

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kiragecko · 6 months

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cherrystainedknuckles

I guess the only problem with being asked to take a “marie kondo approach” is that in order to find any fanfic that appears to be based in actual canon timeline and plot points and characterization (which does exist, and I’m not sure why fanon fans seem insistent that it doesn’t), I literally have to search for hours. I’m not joking, I consistently make fic rec lists, and I have to search for hours and hours for actual canonical basis. same thing with character tags on tumblr.

I’m not saying fanon fans have to stop enjoying fanon or making up their own content. I’m just saying that when the tags used for both fanon tim drake and canon tim drake are the same tag it just becomes incredibly annoying sometimes, and I understand why people who like to engage with canon (me, often) become frustrated

I have definitely had periods where I got incredibly frustrated with fanon! Around 2019, I was wondering if I needed to leave the Batfandom, because it had been so long since I read a new fic where the characters felt 'right'.

But, if you're willing to, I'd like you to consider what you mean when you divide 'fanon' from 'canon'. Because I struggle to find a hard line between the two, for several reasons:

1. Fandom is transformative. Every fanfic is going to have some interpretation of the source material. The line between what is too much interpretation and what is acceptable is different for every person. For me, I find it can even vary based on writing style or other odd things - lighthearted fic can have more noncanonical stuff in it than heavier fic, and still seem true to canon.

2. 'Canon' is subjective. I do not consider the movies or video games to be 'canon', and it annoys me when things from those creep into the fic I'm reading. (I'm okay with SOME Battinson.) Some aspects of the cartoons are okay. I consider precrisis Jason Todd to be an alternate reality version, but Donna's precrisis origins are more canonical than the dumb retcons. Wayne Family Adventures isn't my main version of the characters, but I'm not bothered if some elements show up in my stories. I'm ignoring most of the nu52, but I like Duke and I'm still watching this new Lian to see what happens. I doubt your divisions are identical to mine.

(Also, some things that I think of as 'fanon' have shown up in nu52 canon! I do not accept them as any more canon because of this.)

3. Most 'fanon' is based on canon. Canon Tim has weird sleep habits. 90s Dick is really lighthearted and joking around some characters in ways similar to fanon. Dick can canonically not be trusted to take care of himself if his mental health gets low enough. Jason likes classical literature. Etc.

These are exaggerated and/or twisted in a lot of fic, but where is the line where they stop being canon? I wouldn't bat an eye at a lot of this stuff, if it didn't show up SO OFTEN.

4. Most 'fanon fans' do know some canon. What line are you going to set where it will be 'enough'. And are they allowed to mention parts of the canon they haven't read yet? Is anyone allowed to talk about Dick's early Robin days, or only the tiny amount of people who have read the golden age stuff? A lot of the 'mistakes' I see are obviously made by people who have read ABOUT canon, but don't know quite how it fits together.

5. 'Canon' is FULL of contradictions. Yes, there are canon events. Yes, there is characterization that is consistent across 3/4s of comics. But. I'm still working on my sidekick timeline. I've devoted days to figuring out ages and passage of time. I've spent over a decade trying to figure out Jason Todd's motivations, and why Tim treats him the way he does. I've read all the 90s and early 2000s CANONICAL character assassination of Jason.

I spent years thinking that Donna's death was almost as foundational as Jason's, only to later discover that I had just happened to read the specific comics that focused on the fallout, and she only stayed dead for a short time. That happens to fans ALL THE TIME! We read a character summarizing an event we haven't directly read, and just accept it as what happened. But characters have biases, and not all writers care about accuracy.

I've read some Tim Drakes that I consider to be almost entirely 'fanon'. And quite a few that were so scarily 'canon' that I got chills. (Not all of which were similar to each other.) But the vast, vast majority have fallen somewhere in the middle.

I definitely do not want the responsibility of deciding which ones count as 'canon'! And I think I would strongly dislike anyone who tried to decide for me.

Being frustrated is logical, and I empathize. But the original post was about the impossible expectations some fans feel. The expectation to read thousands of comics, synthesize all the contradictions, and come to conclusions that match the 'true fans'. That's a perfectly reasonable thing to be complaining about.

If that's what some fans are experiencing, of course they're not going to want to engage with canon! There's no way for them to succeed, so why should they even try?

When you join THAT conversation to discuss your frustration about fanon, it strengthens that perception. When you call them 'fanon fans' it emphasizes their belief that you don't think they belong. And rather than trying to change, it's more likely that they'll double down. Canon is full of gatekeepers, so they'll avoid it.

#gatekeeping #fandom policing #fanon #canon vs fanon #usually don't do stuff like this anymore #I'm old and tired #but sometimes the words want to come out

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laikabu · 8 months

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1999 | he/him | southeast asian | i guess you can call me cas

art tag here

• despite my tumblr handle im not one of those otaku who insist the one thats written first is the top. i think it depends which is funnier for the situation. i think they should kill each other actually

• you can send in asks or requests through my ask box. platonic ok, romantic ok, sfw ok, dirty joke ok, nsfw maybe. my only exception is that i don’t pair mithrun with anyone except for lycion(one-sided) and the lamia(pre-incident)

don’t ask for my main account.

• i do like farcille a lot but u gotta convince me marcille gets freaky deaky like that before i entertain pervert ideas about her

• i have a cringe yumeship so if you don’t like oc x canon you should probably leave… if for some whatever reason it’s for the same character(it’s fucking holm why would you have yume with him. actually don’t answer that) i don’t mind doubles.

• laios can be anything i don’t care. i only like transmasc kabru.

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snippychicke · 1 year

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Legend of the Selkie and the Pirate --Two--

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen/mature (we have non-graphic nudity stated)

Pairing: Buggy/Selkie!Reader

Warnings: None except heartbreak?

Summary: Even in a world of monsters, devil fruits, pirates, and fishmen, selkies were considered a myth. Especially in the East Blue where the waters were too warm for seals to live anyways.

Except that myths were always seeded with truths, and stories always had a habit of coming to life.

Tagging: @tfamidoingwithmylife; @yellowbbear ; @skullr0se; @chiyo-juice

Masterlist|Ao3

(psst, if you're a long time reader of mine and noticed that I had posted part one without dramatic use of italicized words... that was because tumblr ate my formatting. It is fixed now along with a few spelling/grammar corrections.)

Prompt: Something/Someone missing

The joy of a large trove of treasure disappeared as Buggy watched the seal slip beneath the railing and over the edge. Without thinking, he called out your name as he raced to the edge, just to watch you gracefully disappear beneath the choppy waves. He was somewhat aware of the rest of the crew torn from the treasure, but was frozen as he watched the water. Hoping--Praying-- that you'd break the surface. That you would reappear--either human or seal-- and he could pluck you up once more despite the earlier ocean spray on his hands had already made them painful and weak.

He'd do it again. And again and again.

If you would just reappear.

"Not even a goodbye," Mohji whined eventually. "Richie is going to be so heartbroken."

Who the fuck cared about the lion? He was heartbroken. The necklace he had in his fist--the one he was about to insist you try when he had first turned around-- cut into his hand as he clenched his fist.

Why? What did your family or kind or whatever have that he couldn't provide you? Were any them as flashy as he was? Making you constantly smile and laugh? Did any of them take you and accept you as easily as his crew had?

Did any of them love you like he did?

Or was it his one flaw? His one weakness? That he couldn't swim. That the ocean hated him for fucking accidentally eating that damn fruit.

That damn Shanks. If he ever saw him again, he would rip his throat out.

(Don't let it be his nose. It couldn't be his nose, right? You said it was fine, and he didn't think you were lying.)

"Cap'n?" Mohji asked, breaking Buggy from his thoughts.

The crew was looking towards him, which he usually didn't mind. Except there was pity in their eyes. As if they could tell--as if they knew--how he felt.

"What are you freaks looking at?!" He shouted with a manic grin. "We just hit the jackpot! It's time to celebrate!"

The cheers were less than heartfelt, but Buggy let it slide. This once.

Granted, later that night, while the crew was sleeping off draining half the beer they had on board, Buggy made his way to the small room you had claimed.

You had been with them for just a few short months, and yet you had made the tiny room your own. Hammock full of blankets and pillows stolen from who knew where. A chest brimming with clothes donated by the crew. A vanity with a cracked mirror, yet you.hadn't seemed to mind. You had placed shiny rocks and shells in the canister meant to hold makeup and brushes.

He took the necklace he had kept in his pocket and put itt in the main drawer, next to the hairbrush (your hair mixed with a few of his since it had been a spare he had found in his own room). He knew he was being foolish, but he held on to the sliver of hope you'd be back. That you would look at his gift with delight and grin happily at him. That the sparkling gems would look as beautiful as he imagined against your skin.

And, well, if he happened to fall into your hammock, pulling your pillow close to his chest, it was merely because he drank too much. But in the moment, he knew the truth as the sway of the ship rocked him into an uneasy sleep.

He missed you.

Prompt: Forgetfulness

You had forgotten how lonely the sea was.

As the sun set and everything became dark, you pulled yourself up to an outcropping of rocks before shifting and looking to the stars. Except the sky was clouded, obscuring everything.

The night would have been silent if not for the sound of water splashing against the rock and your legs. It was impossible to tell where the sea and sky separated--all that you could see was inky blackness. As if you had somehow appeared into an abyss.

You shivered, but you weren't cold. You still pulled your fur tighter as you continued to shake, chest becoming painfully tight.

You wanted to be on the pirate ship right now. You wanted to hear the rumble of snores of the crew. The soft boot steps of those taking watch. The soft glow of the lamps and candles.

Buggy finding you and ending the lonely night often brought alongside insomnia. It had become a little routine, making you wonder what made it so hard for him to sleep at night.

You never asked.

Finally the tightness erupted into a scream, hot tears stinging your eyes.

You had forgotten what true loneliness was like.

You forgot the heartache of missing those dear to you.

Your heart wasn't sure it even knew where 'home' was. The arctic where your pod was. Where your parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, were.

Or a ship where you were surrounded by people so unlike but had wormed their way into your heart nonetheless.

(Or maybe where a blue haired pirate grinned at you with bright eyes and a red nose. Like you were the most amazing thing he had ever seen.)

Prompt: Unexpected

"We're going to the Grand Line!"

The crew of freaks stared at their captain in confusion. When he had called them together, this was not what they expected his announcement to be. In fact, no one had cared to even place bets considering they all believed it to be the same.

To go after you.

"The… Grand Line, Captain?" Mohji was brave enough to ask, clearly as confused as everyone else despite the fact he was technically Buggy's second in command.

Thankfully, Buggy grinned at the white curly-haired man. Though there was a hint of mania yet again to his blue eyes. "You heard me. We've pittered about the East Blue for long enough, it's time to go after the grand prize--the One Piece!"

"Don't we need a map for the Grand Line?"

"Does the One piece actually exist?

"Well, rumor has it Buggy was on Rogers ship. So if he thinks it does, then it must, right?"

Buggy wasn't too concerned about the talk amongst the crew, that was to be expected. After all, it was a big change.

But then…

"What about our selkie that jumped shipped?" Mohji asked, and everyone quickly grew silent, looking towards the captain expectedly.

Buggy felt his eye twitch as he gritted teeth behind his smile.

Waking up in your hammock had made the truth hit him like a sledgehammer. You were gone. You chose to leave, without so much as a goodbye.

Escaping to the one place he couldn't follow.

"Our little seal made her choice," he said, turning to his first mate with murder in his eyes. "And I don't want to hear another word about it."

Because his heart was bruised enough as it was.

He wasn't going to chase after someone who didn't want him. (Just like everyone else in his life he had cared for. He had opened his heart to you, only for you to devour what little had remained before jumping overboard.)

Prompt: Undone

"Well, she's rather special. I mean, can you blame him?"

"Hmph. Captain Buggy has made it a point to build a crew of people that don't fit in. We're his band of freaks. But at least we're human. Or fishperson. The bitch is as useful as a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. I mean, she had to be taught how to wash dishes."

"Either she sharpens up, or the Captain will realize how useless she is and send her overboard too."

The words still echoed in your head despite it being weeks since they were spoken. The conversation you weren't meant to hear but did. The one that made you realize you didn't belong among the land-kind.

That you weren't meant to be one of Buggy's crew. That the chore girl position you had been given was just to keep you entertained and out from under others feet.

Oh sure, many of the crew acted like they enjoyed you being there-- especially Buggy himself-- but not all of them were such great actors. The scoffs. the sneers.

Some things were universal no matter what.

The cry of a seagull roused you from the half-sleep. You groaned when you realized the sun had moved, meaning you were no longer in the shade of the towering cliffs but in the hot sun.

You grabbed your fur and moved into the new shaded area. Hoping to get a little more sleep before the sunset and you could resume your attempt at finding home.

Goddamn tropics being so hot. It was way too warm to try and swim during the day, so you resorted to trying to sleep while the sun bore down. Yet always alert for any land-kind, so sleep was a relative term.

But at least there were plentiful fish in the waters.

Yet… your time on the pirate ship had spoiled you. All that different food.

Baked.

Roasted.

Toasted.

Fried.

And the fruit. The cool and sweet juices from biting into one busting into your mouth. Sometimes too much and escaping the corners of your lips.

Buggy laughed as you tried hard to catch the juice with your hands. He eventually reached over and wiped some you didn't notice from your chin and made a show of licking it from his glove. "Juicy little thing, aren't you?"

"I-it was," you agreed, trying to reign in your impulses that you didn't realize what he truly said.

How were you supposed to enjoy going back to eating merely to survive after that? (Were you ever going to get him out of your head?)

You continued to try and sleep, ignoring the pain any dreams brought once you woke.

Prompt: Eyes

For being stuck in a sack, bodiless, and more or less prisoner of Arlong, everything had been going fine. Listening to Luffy's antics was always entertaining. The boy was so clueless and full of optimism that it was almost unbelievable at times. As well as rather annoying, considering how the rubber-cursed teen and his tiny crew had beaten him

What was wrong with this kid?

Maybe the Gum-Gum fruit had done something to his brain too.

Okay, things were massively sucking for Buggy right now, but he held out hope. He had escaped worse situations. Yes his body was too far away for him to literally pull himself together. But after they tracked down the Straw hat, Arlong said he'd let him go.

Granted, Arlong was the kind of pirate to lie straight to your face, but all Buggy had at this point was hope.

And then he heard you. He knew wherever his body was it jerked, instinct to whip around to look for you before he remembered his ear was miles away at the Baratie restaurant hidden in Luffy's cap.

What the fuck were you doing there.

He wiggled his ear slightly in hopes things weren't so muffled. As angry and hurt as he still was, there was no denying that he was desperate to hear your voice clearly.

He wanted to see you. Touch you. Talk to you. (Demand to know why you had left him the way you did. Hadn't any of the time you spent with them, with him, meant enough for at least a goodbye?)

"--I'm lost," you admitted slowly, sounding as cautious as when you first boarded his ship. Back when you didn't know who to trust and expected someone to do something. "I'm trying to head north, but--"

He silently groaned, rolling his eyes, the Baratie was south of the Deadman Stacks. No wonder you ended up in the East Blue. You were absolutely clueless when it came to directions, weren't you?

(He could have helped. If you had just asked. If you had just waited another minute.)

"Where's home?" Luffy asked, full of innocent optimism that set Buggy's teeth on edge.

You wouldn't. You wouldn't dare accept help from the brat after leaving him. Right? There was nothing that kid had that he didn't. (Except a normal nose-- no. You didn't care about his nose.)

"North?" You answered awkwardly, and Buggy wasn't sure if you were avoiding the question, or if you really didn't know.

"Like, Shells town? Syrup Village?"

"Um… further… north?"

You… didn't know. At least, none of their names for places. And you didn't trust them enough to divulge that truth. His innocent little lamb lost at sea for how many months now? He didn't think his heart could stand another knife in it.

"I mean, Cozia is the northernmost isle of the East Blue I know," A new voice peeped in. One of the waitstaff if he recalled right. Sangria? Sojo? Something like that. It didn't matter, not really.

"That sounds… kinda familiar?" You answered, though your voice was tinged with obvious doubt. You were such a horrible liar. (Which only confused him more, because he had thought you at least liked him. Yet you ran away. Why?)

"Don't worry, my cherie, you rest and eat your fill. We'll find a way to get a beautiful woman such as yourself home." The waitstaff flirted, making Buggy grit his teeth as he tried to keep his snarl silent, well aware that Along's crew was probably listening.

Hell no. No suave fucking waiter was going to try and steal you from him. (Completely ignoring the fact you obviously weren't his to be stolen.)

Wait.

Shit. Fuck.

Arlong was heading for the Baratie. Where you were.

And as happy as he was to find you, for the chance to just see you again, there was no mistaking the fear rolling in his gut even if he wasn't attached to his body.

What if you got caught up in the inevitable fight? You could defend yourself, but against Arlong's crew? One Selkie against three fishman that were stronger than himself?

What if Arlong decided he wanted you as a trophy? What if he took your fur from you again? Unlike Buggy, Arlong was known to hold people captive for long periods of time, doing as he pleased. (Buggy held on to the fact he wasn't that bad since he only gave the towns and villages a mandatory free show for a few nights and before he'd leave and allow them to rebuild their boring little lives.)

And all Buggy could do was watch. A bodiless head, unable to do anything but watch. Listen. Maybe beg but he already knew any pleading would fall on deaf ears.

Prompt: Crowds

You had impulsively followed the smell of food, sick of fish, and ended up giving a few humans--Luffy and Sanji-- heart attacks when you pulled yourself halfway onto the deck asking for food.

And well, you had gotten what you had asked for that ruined your usual diet even more because it tasted divine. But as you ate, the two had been full of questions and one thing led to another and…

They wanted to help you. Apparently their navigator might know more about where you were heading.

Except chaos erupted before you could even meet their navigator. Maybe it was because you were surrounded by too many humans, but you felt exposed. Overstimulated. The constant chatter of the patrons. The clinks of silverware against plates.

The animalistic part of your brain finally won out, and you ran yet again. There was a storm on the horizon and you didn't want to be caught in the middle of it.

You didn't care which way you were going, you jumped into the water and dived deep and fast, allowing your body to follow the urge to run and hide.

~*~

You weren't at Baratie.

Hours later as Buggy helped the Straw Hat idiots navigate.to Arlong Park, the mantra repeated itself in his head. You weren't there. You hadn't been amongst the crowd of diners that Arlong threatened. You weren't part of Lyffy's little crew.

Buggy was relieved. Angry. Devastated. Thankful.

Oh, you had been there. Your voice hadn't been a figment of his deranged imagination. But apparently between Mihawk's attack and Arlong’s arrival, you had slipped off into the night without so much as a word. (Which did help a little. Especially as Sanji mourned the fact two 'lovely ladies' had disappeared on him without so much as a goodbye.)

"Wait, you knew her?" Luffy asked after Buggy not-so-subtly asked if they had seen a curvy gal in a seal-skin coat.

Buggy grinned, though he felt an eye twitch. "You could say that. But I mean, what man really knows a woman, am I right?"

"She's running away from you, isn't she?" Zoro guessed-- making Buggy grit his teeth.

God, if he had his body right now he would have decked the grass-haired man. Right in the swordsman's chest wounds. (See how he liked a knife in the heart.)

"That would imply I actually gave a shit about what she's up to." Okay. He couldn't lie to himself. He did. Hearing you were still so lost had taken the edge off his anger. He was still mad, but it was tempered with worry now. "She's merely an old acquaintance and I was surprised to hear her voice is all. She doesn't like hanging around crowds."

"She was a jumpy little rabbit," Sanji agreed with a dreamy hint to his voice. Okay, forget the dramatic samurai-wanna be, Buggy was going to slaughter the chef. "I should have offered to protect her. To keep her safe from whatever frightened her."

That madeBuggy laugh. "That is a riot. Friend, buddy, pal, let me tell you a little secret. Those sharp teeth aren't for decoration. I've seen her kill half a dozen men in just a few minutes with those chompers of hers alone. She'll bite your hand off if it wanders a bit too much-- and I do mean literally."

And yet… you were still an innocent little lamb he felt compelled to protect as well.

Or maybe just stand back and watch you protect yourself, clapping and cheering the same way you did during one of his performances.

But the fact.remained, you had left him. You did not want him or his crew.

He was in the midst of his body being kidnapped and sailing into the territory of one of the most vicious pirates of the East Blue with a ragtag bunch of idiots. That should be what took precedence in his mind.

Not you. (Yet it was.)

#opla buggy #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy x reader #one piece #opla

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bubblesreplies · 2 years

Text

The Middle

Max Brinly X Female Reader

Oneshot

APPARENTLY IF YOU’RE READING THIS IN ANY DARK COLORED FORMAT ON TUMBLR (LIKE NIGHT MODE) IT LOOKS FUCKING WEIRD AND IDK HOW TO FIX IT I’M SO SORRY.

A/N: No, I'm not neglecting my other fics to write a random oneshot? Why would you even suggest---fuck it here it is besties. Anyways, this product of procrastination is dedicated and written for my bestie @house-of-kolchek, who loves Max as much as I do.

WARNINGS AND TAGS: NSFW 18+ ONLY, this is unedited and might be awful, Reader is Jacob's cousin, manipulative!Emma but like in a good way, BFF!Emma, Emma/Jacob, Abi/Nick, making Emma cooler than she is, sweetheart!Max, unrequited love (assumably), forced proximity, sex jokes, unsafe seating situations while driving DO NOT DO THIS PLEASE, lap-sitting, erections, staring down your shirt, teasing, love confessions, very very cheesy and idc anymore

Word Count: 8k

Main Masterlist

“EMMA, that is the stupidest idea in seriously the entire world.”

You meant it, too; you already thought that this little impromptu camping trip was an awful idea; the last time that the group of you were out in the woods, it ended with werewolves, so, could anybody really be blamed for not wanting to tempt fate? And now hearing Emma’s latest plan, you couldn’t help but say fuck this whole entire trip and its mom, too.

“Oh—come on!” Emma insisted with a pout across her face, leaning across her oversized suitcase—who in the world needed all of that space for a weekend camping trip? “Babes, you are my wing-woman here—my ultimate girl. Come on, please—Jacob won’t even look at me when we hang out. I really need your help with this!”

You sighed; a year ago, when the ten of you—eight, if you considered the fact that you hadn’t actually met two of the camp counselors until the end of the summer—worked at Hackett’s Quarry and endured that shitshow of a summer, you hadn’t even liked Emma. You didn’t like how she had your cousin, Jacob, mooning all over her like she owned the whole fucking Earth. You didn’t like the way that the nicest girl you’d ever met seemed to think she walked on water, too, and you did not appreciate the fact that she thought she was entitled to tell you all the ways that you were doing your makeup all wrong.

But then, that night happened. The night of the full moon, when your idiot cousin sabotaged the van just to get another night with the woman he’d fallen in love with who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about him. The night where the ten of you had miraculously survived werewolves, and a crazy-ass family trying to kill you all night. That night was what changed everything.

You’d gotten stranded with Emma running through the woods, and somehow landed yourself in a heated battle with Jacob—who had apparently been bitten by one of those things because he was now one of those things. He, obviously, tried to kill the two of you and Emma thought fast, using a piece of silver jewelry to save both of your lives and buy you enough time to get the hell out of there.

And then, you’d been locked in a room with her and Abi, the three of you not knowing if you would survive the night, and something just…changed. You began to see her differently, and from that point on, throughout this entire past year, the three of you had been best friends.

More you and Emma, if you were being honest, because Abi and Nick had just gotten engaged three months ago and most of her free time went to him.

Not that it hurt your feelings. If you somehow managed to bag the man of your dreams, you’d be spending every free moment with him, too.

“Jacob just…needs time,” you informed her with a groan, throwing your tennis shoes across the room as you frantically looked for your favorite pair of leggings. “He’s still hurt, you know? You can’t just tell him you didn’t mean any of it and then expect him to forgive you and jump back into your arms, Emma.”

“Which is why I need you to get me into his cabin this weekend,” Emma pleaded, getting up from her place on your bed and digging through your drawers as she pulled out the very clothes you were looking for. You swore that sometimes, it was literally like she could read your mind. “All we have to do is fake a fight; I will refuse to sleep in the same cabin as you, and then the boys will offer to switch with us. I’ll get a whole night—and a whole, isolated cabin—with Jacob; and you? Well, let’s not pretend that you aren’t benefitting from my little plan.”

You snorted, shimmying out of your jeans and pulling your leggings up over your legs, smiling as Emma nodded towards your ass in approval. If she thought that you looked good, you could rest assured that you damn well did.

“And how will I benefit from getting into a fake fight with you and causing a scene?” You questioned, your head cocked as Emma passed you your shoes and you eagerly slipped them on. The rest of your group would be here at any minute, and you didn’t want to keep them waiting.

“Because if I end up in Jacob’s cabin, you know who ends up in yours? Max.”

You whipped around and shot Emma a glare, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe that she would just mention his name all casually like that. You’d made her swear to never bring up your pathetic, unrequited crush on Max Brinly ever again, since the day she’d first found out that it even existed in the first place.

You first met Max when the sun came up after that hellish night at Hackett’s Quarry. You and Emma had run back to the island to see if Jacob was there and if he was alive, and you ended up running into Max instead. After lots of screaming and confusion, the two of you finally allowed him to explain just how in the fuck he had gotten there and who he was, which is when you learned that your one night of hell had lasted two months for him and his girlfriend.

Emma had found Jacob and ran after him, but you stayed behind with Max, talking and laughing at his jokes, attempting not to swoon at the adorableness that was his laugh. You had hoped, at the beginning of the summer, to find somebody just like him and have a summer romance. Somebody who was cute, who could make you laugh, and seemed to understand you instantly.

It didn’t work out that way, obviously—seeing as the summer had been over and Max Brinly had a girlfriend.

Laura eventually came back for him and you parted ways, assuming that this would be the last time that you would ever see Max Brinly, attributing your budding feelings for him as some sort of trauma response to the night that you had just been through.

Imagine your surprise when, a month after Hackett’s Quarry, the new co-worker that you were assigned to train at the coffee shop was none other than Max Brinly. You assumed right away that he wouldn’t even remember you—why would he?---but you were wrong. He knew exactly and immediately who you were, and the two of you hit it off just as well as you did the first time you had ever spoken to him. It wasn’t long before you were hanging out with him every single day, and he had slowly become your best friend.

You went to movies together, you got dinner, he came to all of the track and field competitions you ran in at your local university, you helped him study hard enough to get into a new graduate school—literally, anything that you could think of, the two of you did it together. You even stayed the night at each other’s apartments on occasion, both of you knowing what the other’s couch felt like pretty intimately.

In fact, the only time the two of you weren’t together was when Laura came to town to visit her boyfriend. Before she dumped him, at least.

It was nearly a month and a half ago now, that you had sat on this very bed with Max as he sobbed, asking you just to hold him and not ask any questions when he told you that he and Laura had broken up.

“Max isn’t into me, so that really doesn’t help your case,” you grumbled, your pissy mood only continuing to sour the more that you thought about it. After Max and Laura, you thought that you might actually stand a chance with him. After all, he spent all of his free time with you, and you knew that nobody in this world knew him as well as you did—and vice versa. But after the night that he’d sobbed with you, fallen asleep in your bed, and told you how he felt like years of his life were wasted with Laura, nothing ever happened.

He just went right on back to being the same old Max, your friend.

“Do you seriously still think that that boy has no feelings for you whatsoever?” Emma shrieked, watching as Jacob’s car pulled up from the window, hurriedly throwing her hair up into a sexily-tossed messy bun. “‘Cause, if you do, you’re so wrong that it isn’t even funny anymore.”

“Em, if he had feelings for me, then why didn’t anything change after he and Laura broke up?!” You interjected, a frown pulling at your lips as you grabbed your tiny duffel bag and hiked it up over your shoulder. “And also, why would he date Laura for so long if he actually, secretly liked me instead? Your logic isn’t logic-ing,” you insisted, and Emma smirked.

“You are so naive that it’s actually kind of cute,” she responded, rolling her eyes as Jacob opted to honk instead of being a gentleman and coming to the door. Emma sauntered over to you, playing with the ends of your hoodie and eyeing it suspiciously. “Look, just—help me with this plan, and you’ll see, okay? And change into that sexy little top I bought you last month for the car ride.”

“Emma!”

“Just trust me!” Emma insisted, pulling the hoodie up and over your head for you and tossing you the lacey black crop top she’d bought you last month. “Put it on—good, yes, I would so bang you—oh, and just in case you find out that Max also wants to bang you, I snuck condoms into your bag.”

“You have got to be kidding me, Emma!” You shrieked, although it was with a large smile on your face as you were, once again, blown away by the antics of your friend.

Emma only laughed as the two of you rushed down to the car, you having to help Emma with one half of her bag since she’d brought such a gigantic one. You’d barely made it to the door before there was a knock on it—apparently Jacob had decided to be a gentleman after all. Or he’d simply gotten impatient, which was the better bet of the two options.

“Keep your pants on cuz, we’re coming,” you hissed out, lowering your end of Emma’s bag to the ground as you ripped open the door to your apartment. Your annoyed glare dropped and your mouth fell open as you saw Max standing there, his cheeks red and running a hand through his freshly-cut red hair. “Max! I, uh, thought you were Jacob?”

Fuck, why did you sound so fucking awkward?! Your conversation with Emma had you paranoid and upset, and if you kept acting this way, Max would definitely notice. The two of you had crossed the awkward barrier a long time ago.

“Ah, nah,” Max answered, his signature smile flashing across his face and warming you up from the inside out. “Jake’s too possessive over that steering wheel to get his ass over to the door honestly.”

“That and he doesn’t want to have to speak to me,” Emma sighed, lugging her bag forward and hitting Max in the chest with it. You suppressed a giggle as he let out an “Oomph!”, but he caught your smile and playfully sneered at you. “Oh, what a gentleman! And damn, Max, I’ve never noticed how strong you are. Have you, Y/n?! Have you ever noticed those biceps?”

“Cut it out, Emma,” you hissed under your breath, grateful that Max had already turned around and was heaving her oversized bag to the trunk of the car. “I know what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work on me.”

“What am I doing?” Emma asked with faux innocence, batting her eyelashes heavily down at you before she winked. “Just use it as fuel for our fake fire, if you want, babes. Besides—would it really kill you to admit in front of him that he looks good?! Give the boy a win, Y/n!”

“He does not think of me that way—”

“Hey, um, Emma?” Max called out as you were locking your front door behind you, and you turned and ran over to where he was pursing his lips behind the trunk. “Maybe we should’ve brought a bigger car, but, your bag is not going to fit back here.”

Emma turned to look and her lips, too, were pursed.

“Well, where’s everyone sitting?” She asked, peering her head into the car to check out the situation.

“Well, uh, Jacob’s driving—obviously—Abi and Nick are in the row of two seats behind him, and then he wants you to sit back in the last row with me while Y/n takes the passenger seat,” Max explained, using his hands to gesture to each person. Abi turned around to look at you from her place in the car, Nick’s head in her lap as he slept, and she waved. You waved back, grimacing at the large bag that was seated at your feet.

“Hmm, no, that won’t do,” Emma insisted with a wave of her hand, using all of her strength to heave her bag up and over the full trunk of the car and into the last row of seats. “It’s going to have to go here—and oh, I really didn’t sleep well last night, so if I don’t sit in the passenger seat, I’ll get sick.”

Max’s jaw dropped and he scoffed lightly, looking between the two of you as you held in a large groan.

“I don’t really see how that makes any sense?” He questioned.

“So Y/n will have to sit in the back, with you!” Emma finished with a gleeful squeal, hurrying to shut the trunk and turning to make her way to the passenger seat of the car.

“Um—hold on a minute, just where the fuck in the back will I sit?!” You barked out, gesturing incredulously to the monstrosity that was her luggage all over the back seat of the car. “Your bag is taking up the entire row—all but one seat, Em! And it’s way too fucking big to go down at our feet!”

Emma put a daintly little finger to her chin, and you could tell that she was only pretending to think about the predicament.

“Well, it’s only about a forty-five minute drive,” she informed you, a wicked smile pushing its way onto her lips. “It’s not that long, so, just sit on Max’s lap?”

Your eyes widened and you felt sweat beading on the back of your neck, your heart beating at an intensely quick pace just at the mere thought of having to sit on Max. One look at Max’s face showed he heard her suggestion, too, because it was unnaturally blank and pale.

You walked closer to Emma, pulling her into you as you said, “You better be fucking for real with your next suggestion, or we will get in an actual fight, Emma,” you warned her, your voice low enough that Max couldn’t hear it. You noticed that he was already ushering Nick and Abi out of the car, hurrying to his seat in the back, and the three of them were just waiting on you.

“Oh my g—will you just trust me, for once in your life?!” Emma begged dramatically, clinging onto your arm and giving you a little push towards Max. “Thank me later, hoe.”

Oh no, I will not be thanking you later, you sneaky little she-devil, you thought to yourself, climbing over Abi’s seat and landing ungracefully into Max’s lap. He caught you much more elegantly than you fell, luckily, and he helped you right yourself so that your back was facing his chest.

You turned your face towards him despite the fact that it was burning, and you brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear.

“You know, I could always just sit on her bag instead of on you,” you offered, geturing weakly over to the big problem that Emma had handed over to the two of you with a private sneer at her back. “That way I won’t crush your legs into tiny pieces of ash.”

Max actually laughed out loud at that and your heart swelled with a feeling of accomplishment; Max was funny, he had probably always been funny, and anytime that you had gotten him to laugh, you took it as a personal achievement.

“Please sweetheart, as if you could,” Max retorted, winding an arm around your waist as he pulled your back flush against his chest, leaving his arm to rest across your stomach and his fingers splayed across your hipbone. You closed your eyes, holding in a sigh as you prayed that he couldn’t see the way that your face had reddened from this angle. “Besides, this is probably the…safer option of the two.”

You heartily disagreed with that.

Still, you positioned yourself against him, awkwardly playing with your fingers on your lap as you had no idea where to rest your hands. You and Max were close, yes, but you had never physically been close, aside from a few silly moments of teasing tickles, accidentally falling asleep on his shoulder, or him resting his legs on your lap as the two of you watched a movie together. This was entirely new territory, and you had no idea what to do with it, and you knew that if Emma hadn’t forced this to happen, that Max wouldn’t have chosen to even be in this situation with you. Probably.

“Jacob, the drive is forty-five minutes?” You called up to him, wincing as you watched your cousin’s teeth grit in the rearview mirror as he attempted to ignore Emma completely.

“An hour, if traffic’s bad,” Jacob called back and you groaned, your leg shaking furiously in your nervousness. As if Max could sense that you were on edge—fuck, with the way that you were bouncing around he probably could feel it—his other hand landed on your thigh, rubbing calming circles around as he successfully got it to stop shaking.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so anxious today,” you sighed, rubbing a hand down your face and leaning back into Max. You could hear his groan and you winced, assuming you had hurt him, as you instantly tried to reposition yourself to take some of the weight off of him.

After a few minutes of frantic wiggling, Max’s hands harshly gripped onto your waist, his fingernails digging into you as he held you tightly into place and you froze, your eyes wide and breath held.

“Y/n, please—stop.” Max’s voice was incredibly hoarse, coming out in a groan and you winced again, mortified that you had hurt him enough to elicit this sort of response.

“Oh shit, Max! I am so sorry—I was trying not to hurt you and then I did hurt you and—”

“Y/n!” Max interrupted, clearing his throat so that his voice sounded a lot more normal and less husky. “Honey, you’re not hurting me, just—don’t wiggle around right—there.”

Your eyebrows raised in confusion at his words and your brain couldn’t process what the hell he was saying, so you just opted to nod, leaning forward as far as you could and beginning a conversation with Abi as you tried with every ounce of your being to not put much weight on Max. It took every ounce of concentration that you had to not think about the fact that you were touching the love of your life and focus on Abi’s words about wedding planning, but somehow, you did it.

“Hey, uh, Jake?” Max suddenly called out, and you noticed that his voice had gone hoarse again and that his tone was tight and clipped. Higher than normal. You frowned; in your conversation with Abi, you had slipped a little further backwards than you’d realized, back into his lap. “How much longer?”

“Thirty minutes,” Jacob growled, and you noticed Emma looking a little offput herself. “It’s looking closer to an hour total at this point.”

“Alright then, we need to stop,” Max insisted and you stifled a pathetic whine, embarrassed that you were this hard to bear just sitting on his lap. It probably didn’t help that you were still actively avoiding any and all contact with him, practically leaving him here in the backseat to talk to himself as you ignored him, anxious and letting Emma’s words get to your head.

You needed to stop. You and Max were friends. Good friends, and you were being absolutely ridiculous about this whole thing.

Three minutes later, Jacob pulled off at a reststop and you lifted off of Max instantly, watching him scamper out of the car after Abi and Nick and hurrying into the men’s restroom. With everyone out of the car but you and Emma, you climbed over the seats and sat between her seat and the driver’s seat, staring at her with wide eyes.

“So,” you started out, pointedly ignoring the tears in her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t want to talk about it right now. “Your plan to make me sit on Max is not working; I can barely say two words to the guy, and his poor legs are getting crushed by me. He probably can’t think of anything but leg cramps!”

“Oh, please,” Emma scoffed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissued and waving your worries away with a flick of her hand. “Look at him, and look at you; there must be some other reason he needs a break.”

“Oh yeah?” You fought back, crossing your arms over your chest as you frowned at your friend. “Like what, exactly? It’s not working Emma, you’re miserable up here, and I am back there; we should just switch places. You’re smaller than me.”

“I am not,” Emma sighed.

“All I know is one minute, I can’t sit still, and the next minute, he’s grabbing my hips and telling me to stop wiggling around,” you continued on, as if Emma hadn’t even interjected. “What else could it be if not that I was—”

You instantly stopped talking as Emma looked over to you, mouth opened and eyes glinting with excitement.

“You poor naive little thing!” She giggled, pulling your arms so that you were practically sitting on her lap. “Y/n, you aren’t hurting him—you’re turning him on and he doesn’t want you to feel it!”

You felt pinpricks across your face as the entire thing turned white, and you were suddenly feeling a little nauseous.

“What?” You questioned, shaking your head lutching nervously at your hair. “What? I—no, Max isn’t—he wasn’t—”

“Oh, yes, yes he was,” Emma argued, and there was a light in her eyes that replaced whatever sadness she had been feeling before you came up there to talk to her. “Okay, do exactly as I say; when Max comes back out to the car, sit back on him just like you were that first time. Wiggle around a bit again—”

“What? No!”

“Just trust me—wiggle around a little bit again, then ask him if he wants to watch something with you on your phone. When you turn it on, lean back against him so that your back is arched and he gets a good, full view down your—”

“Okay, and this is where I officially stop you, you are crazy,” you intoned, shaking your head and leaning away from your friend. “Max is not into me—in case you managed to forget about that, babes—and besides, I can’t just show him my boobs, Emma! They’re my—boobs. They’re, like, private.”

“Holy fuck, how are you not a virgin,” Emma groaned, shoving you back towards your seat as she pointed eagerly out of the car. “Okay, babes, here he comes—just trust me, okay?! Do it!”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the words fell from your lips as the car door opened and Max poked his head inside, grinning over at you as his eyes darted back and forth between you and Emma.

“What, uh, what’s going on here?” He asked, and you shot a glare at Emma as she giggled, hiding her face in her shirt and sending an ominous wink your way. You tried as well as you could to tell her to shut up with your eyes, but she ignored you in typical Emma fashion.

“Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head and sending him a smile. “I was just feeling nervous about getting away this weekend and Emma was talking me down. That’s it.”

“Ah,” Max yawned, heading back to his seat and patting his lap for you to join him. You blushed. “Is that why you’re acting so weird? You haven’t spoken to me for the last, like twenty-five minutes.”

“Yeah, sorry, just nervous,” you insisted, climbing back over Abi’s seat and settling yourself on top of Max’s lap. As you looked up after readjusting, your eyes met Emma’s in the rearview mirror and she nodded, looking from you to Max’s…well…yeah.

You cleared your throat, feeling the burn of your phone in your pocket as you stared widely back at her, conveying that she was being way too obvious, here. Regardless, a part of you was…curious, now, and with Laura out of the picture and Max completely single, it’s not like a little testing of the waters was inappropriate anymore. What could it hurt, really? Max was too nice to reject you, so if he wasn’t into it, he just wouldn’t say anything and you’d let it go forever. But, if he really was into it—

Well that was the best-case scenario, wasn’t it?

So, you shifted; nothing crazy and nowhere close to grinding—just a small, flick of the hips that brushed right up against his crotch. Max’s breath hitched and you froze, wondering if you’d truly heard that right, completely distracted from the fact that Abi and Nick were re-entering the car and that Jacob was starting it again, getting ready to head on the road once more.

A hitch of a breath wasn’t enough of a confirmation for you, so you shifted once again, and then again and then again, and this time Max’s hands lifted back up to your hips, grasping for dear life as you settled your ass back down to his crotch, turning your head to watch as his eyes shut tight and he bit his lip.

“Y/n—”

“Do you want to watch part of a movie with me?” You interrupted, watching as Max’s eyes flashed open, a glint of pain underneath them that had you second-guessing what had just happened. Max smiled down at you, though—that brilliant smile that God had blessed him with—and nodded.

You had no idea what you were going to watch, but your fingers worked anyway, hurriedly typing some stupid TikTok compilation that you hoped he wouldn’t get too distracted by. Max laid his chin on your shoulder, his hands that were gripping your waist winding around your front and interlocking as he held you, his face snuggling slightly into your neck.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, your mind reiterated as you slowly breathed out, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you silently prayed that Max couldn’t hear it, and that he couldn’t feel the way that your skin had suddenly heated up and become sweaty. It wasn’t even that cuddling with Max was anything new—as a person, he was a fucking lapdog—but it was the fact that you had never sat on his fucking lap before while cuddling. Never had intentions to turn him on, never gave him this much of a glance down your lowcut shirt—

Y/n, don’t be a pussy, your inner Emma chastised and you shut your eyes tight and sucked in a breath, desperately trying to convince yourself not to go through with this. But damn it—you sort of wanted to and, so far, Max hadn’t shown a single sign that he’d wanted you to sit anywhere else.

It was halfway through the video that you forgot the rest of the people in the car and arched backward without a minute to second guess yourself, pretending to stretch your arms above your head as you knew you were, successfully, letting Max have a perfect show of your black lacy bra underneath your shirt, and under that, the perfectly rounded mounds of breasts that it pushed up.

You heard a sharp inhale and dared a look at his face; he was as white as a ghost, and even his perfectly placed freckles had gone impossibly paler—and yet his eyes, those gorgeously sea-colored orbs, were still staring down your shirt, transfixed, as he studied your figure.

“Alright, everybody out!” Jacob suddenly called out, and the two of you jumped, Max’s eyes meeting yours as he was brought back to reality. His eyes, no longer clouded over with lust, widened and a blush spread unevenly across his face as he realized that he’d been caught watching you. “We’re here!”

“Y/n,” Max breathed out, whipping his arms away from you and running nervous hands through his newly cut hair. “Shit, Y/n, I’m so sorry, I—I wasn’t—I mean I was but…” You smiled as he stuttered along, a giggle framing your mouth and escaping out of your lip, causing Max’s gaze to whip back onto you. You couldn’t help it; he was always so damn cute when he was flustered.

“Does it make it any less creepy if I’m aware that staring down your shirt is creepy?” Max asked, equal parts timid and teasing. You laughed aloud at that, the two of you lingering in the backseat of the car while the rest of the party headed out.

“It’s fine, Max,” you insisted with a shrug and a wink, conveying in every way possible that you weren’t completely innocent here either. “No one wears a bra like this for it not to be seen, sweetheart.”

The words coming out of your mouth shocked even you, and Max’s entire jaw fell open as he stared at you in complete and utter disbelief.

“Whoa, Y/n,” he reared away from you, just to get a better look at your face, testing to see if you were saying what he thought that you were saying. His hands found their way to your waist again and he touched you softly, his thumbs running up and down the curves of your hipbones as he stared in wonder down at you. “Are you saying that you wanted me to—”

“Are you two gonna get out of the car, or do you plan on freezing your little asses off all night?!” Jacob called out as he forced open the trunk of the car, staring in disbelief at the two of you still sitting there. You both jumped, eyes turning to Jacob with guilty blushes, and you didn’t waste another second climbing off of Max and over the seats, pushing your way past Jacob and onto the dirt-clodded driveway.

Taking your bag from your cousin and asking a hurried, “Where’s our cabin again?” You received directions and hurried off in the direction of the cabin that you and Emma were supposed to share, attempting to outrun Max so that he couldn’t question you any further.

What the hell had you been thinking?! You hadn’t, obviously, and you’d let Emma’s skewed opinion get to you. Now, you had to come up with a solution for some serious damage control before Max got to you with his, What’s gotten into you today? And his, Look, I know you must have been kidding, or his I’m sorry Y/n, I’m just not attracted to you that way—

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, throwing open the door to the cabin and chucking your suitcase onto the empty bed. Emma was standing on the other side of the room, facing the bathrooms, but she jumped and turned around when she heard the slam of the front door. “Fuck this whole plan, Emma, and fuck my stupid self too. I can’t believe that I actually let myself believe that Max was really into me and I—holy shit, are you crying?!?”

Emma’s pretty hazel eyes were red-rimmed, but the telltale giveaway that she’d been sobbing was the tear tracks of black mascara spreading down her cheeks and clumping up near her pointy chin.

Once her mind had registered your question, she began sobbing once again, her hands coming up to cover her eyes and you ran to her, throwing your arms around her neck and feeling her own arms go around your waist as she sobbed into your neck heartily.

“Honey, what happened?” You asked, but your voice was muffled by your much taller friend’s collarbone. You pulled away from her and sat her down on her bed, sitting down next to her and taking her hand in yours. “Emma, what did my idiot cousin say to you? You know that big dummy acts completely on emotions, so whatever he said, I’m sure it was just in the heat of the—”

“He meant it,” Emma interrupted you, pulling her hand out of yours and using it to wipe her eyes. “But I don’t even want to talk about it right now, so—tell me what happened with Max.” You opened your mouth to protest but she shot you her “Emma” look—the look that told you that arguing would quite literally be pointless. So, you sighed, letting yourself fall backward onto the bed and groaning as your head hit the awfully lumpy mattress she’d been provided tonight.

“I don’t know what happened, Emma,” you admitted with a whine, feeling her lay down beside you and cuddle her head into yours comfortingly. “It was like I had this sudden, insane boost of confidence and I was like…grinding on him and giving him a full show of my boobs—”

“You do have great boobs—”

“And then when he noticed that I caught him staring at my breasts, I kindofsortofmaybe insinuated that I wanted him to look down my shirt and then he was about to ask me if I really meant that I wanted him to see me naked and then Jacob interrupted us and I freaked out and ran away.”

Emma just stared back at you, blinking occasionally, as if she were really confused.

“Why?” She finally asked, staring down at you in confusion. You blinked back at her, shaking your head bewilderedly.

“Wait, why what?”

“Why did you run away, you fucking dumbass!” Emma insulted, but it was loving and the two of you laughed as she pushed you off the bed and you squealed. “Seriously, Y/n, what the fuck? You ran away? After doing all of that you just ran?”

“I was scared!” You defend your actions with a hiss, pulling yourself up off of the floor and planting down next to her again. “Fuck, Emma, Max is my best friend. I cannot risk freaking him out and losing him, okay? I just…can’t, okay, he means…he means everything to me, Emma, he’s the most important person in the whole world. He’s my best friend.”

“Ouch,” Emma responded, but there was a fond smile on her face and a happy gleam in her eyes as she gazed down at you. “Babes, you know that you’re the most important thing in the world to him too, right? Even if he didn’t feel the same way about you, he wouldn’t let this ruin your friendship. You know that, right?”

You shrugged and looked away from her, playing with your hands as you avoided the question. Did you know that? No, not really. Yeah, the two of you were really close, and yeah, he spent most of his free time with you, but that didn’t mean that this wasn’t something that would freak him out enough to ghost you.

“Shit, if I was going to do something as fucking ridiculous as this, I should have just bit the and told him how I felt,” you finally responded with a sigh, pushing yourself off of the bed and shuffling your feet over the cold, hardwood floor. “But you know, maybe this way, there’s some way that I can play it off?”

“Okay babes, I’m just going to say this once and I’m going to say it outright,” Emma cut you off, standing in front of you and forcing your chin up to look your much taller friend in the eyes. “I know why they broke up, Y/n. The real reason, and if you just fucking ask me I will tell you right here, right now.”

The offer was, obviously, tempting; and two or three years ago you’d probably be a lesser person and taken that offer. As it was, though, you valued Max and his privacy, and if he’d wanted you to know, he would have told you himself.

“No, I don’t want to know,” you insisted, pursing your lips and pulling away from Emma. “It isn’t any of my business, and Max made that abundantly clear by not telling me inthe first place.”

“Of fucking course,” Emma groaned with a shake of her head, rolling her eyes at you and then fixing you with a glare. “The two of you are both so stupid.”

“Gee, thanks Em.” Your words fell flat as you shot her your own sharp look and she gulped, having the common decency to at least look like she felt bad for saying what she did. “Besides, why do you even know the reason Laura dumped him?”

“Laura didn’t dump Max—Max dumped Laura,” Emma clarified and your heart dropped into your stomach. The piece of news, realistically, probably should have made you feel better, but it didn’t. It only made you feel worse, like your heart had been stomped on and used up. Because—if that was true—if Max had dumped Laura—then why had he been so upset that night when he came over to your house? And why the fuck had he lied to you about it?

“What?” You asked, your voice tiny and fragile, and Emma looked back at you, confused.

“Max broke up with Laura,” Emma repeated, and was somehow completely missing the broken, wounded look that was written all over your face. “He dumped her, because he wasn’t in love with her, Y/n, he realized that he was—”

“Emma.”

Jacob’s voice pierced through the air, and the two of you jumped towards the sound, to where your cousin was currently glaring daggers towards your best friend. Emma immediately shut up, shooting you a guilty look as she moved farther away from you and towards Jacob.

“Y/n, can you please give us a moment?” Jacob asked, his throat froggy and having to clear it as he continued staring at Emma. When you saw the raw, heated look pass between them you excused yourself quickly, knowing that whatever feud they were having was about to be made up in tenfold. You forgot to bring your suitcase with you—not even thinking that you’d effectively be kicked out of your cabin for the night—as you ran outside, outside to the nothingness that awaited you.

No, seriously.

There was not a soul out here, Abi and Nick notably missing and Max even nowhere to be seen—not that you even wanted to see him right now anyways. Your heart was barely beating in your chest at the revelation that he’d lied to you—you, supposedly his closest friend—about something that was so huge. Then again, maybe he had no idea how huge it was to you. He didn’t at all, actually, because he had no idea that you were so annoyingly and stupidly in love with him.

“Fuck this day, and fuck everyone else,” you groaned to yourself as you plopped down on a metal bench under a canopy, covering your eyes with your hands as you whined.

“That an invitation?”

Max’s voice sent your blood running cold and you jumped, shocked, turning yourself towards him as he stood slightly behind you, watching you warily. His face was red, but he was smiling at you, and he made his way over and sat at the bench opposite you slowly.

The two of you stared at each other for a while—one of you, optimistically nervous, and the other of you having had your heart shattered into a million little pieces just ten minutes ago. Neither of you said anything, unsure of what exactly you should say, for a long time until finally, Max broke the silence.

“Y/n,” Max spoke, clearing his throat from the nervousness that threatened to choke and overtake him. “About what you said in the car—”

“You lied to me.”

You hadn’t intended for it to come out like that, but there it was, and there was no taking it back now.

Max reared back, astonishment registering across his perfect features.

“I—what?” He shook his head back and forth, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “I lied about—about the car?”

“No Max, not about the fucking car!” You swore, rising from your seat in your anger. Max followed quickly, a gentle hand on your elbow that you quickly ripped out of his grasp. “You lied to me about—about Laura! You told me that she—that she broke up with you, Max! You were heartbroken, you were crying, you lied!”

You thought that there were tears streaming down your face but you couldn’t really tell at the moment. All you could feel was the adrenaline that was being fueled by your anger, and all you could see was the shock that hadn’t left Max’s face since you’d first spoken.

“Who told you that?” Max questioned, and the fact that he wasn’t denying it made you even more upset and you huffed, turning around on one heel and heading towards—fuck, you had absolutely nowhere to go.

“Does it matter?” You answered, turning back around and accepting the fact that the only way you were going to get to be alone was if Max went back to his cabin and left you here and, knowing him, that wasn’t likely to happen. “You lied, Max. And I’m pissed about it. That’s the only thing that you should care about.”

You still hadn’t turned around to face him, so he made his way in front of you instead, placing tentative hands on both of your arms and levelling his face with yours.

“Sweetheart, please look at me.” Fuck; you were weak anytime that Max called you sweetheart and you knew that he knew it, too. Hating yourself just a little bit more for it, you looked up at him, unaware of how your big, sad eyes caused every cell in his body to melt.

“Why did you lie to me?” The question slipped through your lips without your consent and Max sighed, releasing your arms and pressing a hand into your hip so that you couldn’t get away again.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Max answered simply and you reared back, out of his touch, away from his hold, as you scoffed in response.

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” You shrieked, pulling farther away from him and pushing your hands out in front of you to stop him when he tried to reach out for you again. “What the fuck—how the fuck would that have hurt me, Max?”

Max winced, running a nervous hand through his hair, and inspected his surroundings, as if he wished somebody else would come out any minute now.

“Y/n, you are my best friend,” Max pleaded, and you could see the desperation in his eyes but you had no idea why he was so upset. “You know me better than anybody else in this entire world, honey, please—can you give me the benefit of the doubt on this one? Can you let me tell you when I’m ready?”

“No, Max, obviously I cannot do that because obviously it has something to do with me!” You retorted sharply, angry tears burning hot at the corners of your eyes, hotter than normal, devastated tears. “Like—what is going on, Max? I hae this feeling that everybody’s in on this secret, everybody but me—and I should know it, I should know what’s going on with you—”

“Y/n, sweetheart!” Max interrupted again, and this time, he successfully gathered your hands into his. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I lied—really I am, but—why is it so important to you?” You glared back at him, pulling your hands out of his grasp and beginning to walk away from him. “Why is it such a big deal that I didn’t tell you the whole truth?”

“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” You screamed back at him, your body turning back around on its own accord as the screech left your mouth. You both heard the words echo against a canyon somewhere, and you blanched, unaware of what you’d actually said and the weight of them until they hit you in the chest on the reverb.

Max’s mouth had dropped open and he stepped away from you in shock, his hands coming up to frame his cheeks, never making actual physical contact with his face. He stared back at you, his eyes wide and full of wonder, as if he were seeing you for the first time, all over again.

“You’re—” Max gulped, but he took a step closer to you, a smile adorning his freckled cheeks. “You’re in love with me? Really?”

Your heart sunk again when he spoke and you shook your head, backing away from him and pressing two fingers to the bridge of your nose as you suddenly felt an oncoming migraine.

“I’m sorry Max,” you apologized, feeling a bout of nausea spring up in your stomach as you realized that you’d just past the point of no return. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I should have never even said anything—I should have let it go—”

“I broke up with Laura because I’m in love with you.”

The words came out quickly, like Max was afraid that if he hadn’t said them as quickly as he did that he wouldn’t say them at all. You reaction was surprisingly slow compared to everything else you’d done in haste tonight, and you dropped your hands from your face and gazed up at the man in front of you, who was staring back at you with awe.

“W—what?”

“I love you,” Max repeated, taking another step towards you with his light, airy chuckle that you loved so damn much. “And I didn’t tell you that night I broke up with Laura because I thought that you’d think I was lying, or that you were a rebound, and you’re not, Y/n. You’re absolutely not—I’ve loved you for a long enough time that I’m a total asshole for letting it go on with Laura for as long as I did.”

“Then why—why did you—”

“I lied because I didn’t want you to think that any of this was your fault,” Max continued, and he was so close now that his arms were winding around your waist and his forehead was pressed to yours. “I just—I knew, the second I saw you again in that coffee shop, that it was fate. And I lied to myself, hoping that my relationship would just fizzle out on its own and that I wouldn’t have to hurt anyone but—fuck, I would break Laura’s heart a thousand times over if it meant that I might get to be with you in the end,” Max finished, and you were stunned silent, unaware of how to speak anymore.

“Do I—” Max took a sharp inhale of breath and a step back to assess your face. “Do I get you in the end?”

You smiled back at him before pressing your lips so tightly to his, wrapping your body so hard around his own, that the two of you could barely breathe in anything that wasn’t lingering on each other’s bodies.

“You had me,” you answered in between breathless kisses, in between promises, in between hopeful smiles. “You had me at the beginning.”

if you liked this cheesy shit, check out my multichapters!

if you'd like to join any of my taglists, dm me!

FOREVER TAGLIST:

@house-of-kolchek @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @buttermykolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @ageofbajabule

#max brinly x reader #the quarry x reader #the quarry #max brinly #max the quarry

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the-systim-cafe · 11 days

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The Systim Cafe Returns

Well, this might be a little awkward. I'll explain to you exactly what happened and why the old @the-systim-cafe blog was originally deleted. I deleted it. I'm the old owner.

I used to go by Plum Symphony and I used that title as a system name too. I realized I was a system last year. But I was too open about this, and I made the mistake of telling people online I was plural. I was annoying.

It came out that I was a system inclusionist and this was when people started harassing me on Tumblr. Should I have attached my old main account to the blog that was tracking my every move on a stupid Pokemon clicker game? Absolutely not. That's my fault. But I don't have anybody to apologize to but myself. Because what happened next was beyond inexcusable.

I was stalked for a series of months during which people on Pokefarm Q (realpokefarmconfessions under #pfplum) would screenshot my every move (or not they don't need proof to harass people) and shared it all anonymously on a gossip blog. They threatened to put me on Kiwifarms. They called me slurs. I tried to settle this with the moderator of the blog, who saw no reason to put a stop to the mob. According to these people, I was not disabled. Because fuck you they said so and that means it's true.

And then when I told people about what was happening to me and showed them the evidence? Those people used the information on that blog to fucking DOXX me. My parents were contacted. After that, I hospitalized myself.

Around this time, it's pretty fuzzy. But my system disappeared completely. For months I was in denial about having ever experienced anything like plurality. I muted channels and avoided tags. I abandoned all my old accounts. I deleted the original Systim Cafe. I thought I was a liar and a fraud.

But I'm not. I know that I'm not. Being a liar requires that you know what you're saying is wrong. And I know my experiences better than any yahoo internet fuckwit ever will.

I was banned from the PFDiscord for being disruptive which is a fair enough assessment. Nobody liked me. I was screened for autism shortly after my account was locked after I tried to take up the offer to move to a new PFQ account. Apparently this offer from the moderation team was conditional on my social awareness improving. I won't comment on that.

All of my previous alters have gone completely dormant. The only ones left, I ignored and insisted were kinshifts. I myself (not as in the plural I, but me specifically) only came to terms with even being alive yesterday. There are three of us total.

I'm Sakura Haruno. I ran away from the Leaf as a teenager and joined the Akatsuki, and if you recognize me you've heard that story already. Host used to talk about writing it down at some point.

I really shouldn't post this. But you have to know what happened to me. I'll write a proper pinned post at some point in the future, but not yet.

The only thing we've learned is that cruelty is everywhere. We were naive enough to think that kind of rule was conditional. It isn't.

Thank you for taking the time to read this if you have. I appreciate that. If you recognize us and want to, I'd love to reconnect with you. Feel free to drop us a line.

~ Sakura Haruno

#not stim #the systim cafe #god do i have the bravery to put this in the main tags #realpokefarmconfessions #harassment #i'll tell it like it is #bullying #it was bullying. youre fucking bullies. what are you 6 #actually plural #puralgang #vent #sysblr

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papercorgiworld · 8 months

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Thank you!

1000+ followers!

As I post this I have exactly 1003 followers and they’re amazing!

I was planning on doing something for 100, 200, 500 followers, but I was always so busy writing or didn’t know what to do or just scared of looking like a fool… sorry! But now it’s time to celebrate!

I love you! Dear tumblr people, I truly love you. Whether you’re creating, supporting or both… you mean the world to me.

Now let’s get down to business. I have three things planned for you lovelys… I hope you’ll like it

Scare an introvert

Me, I’m the introvert. Scare me and talk to me. Honestly, I like communicating from time to time, but let’s just say small talk is not my most developed skill.

If you’re a social butterfly or a curious kitten and you want to get to know the writer behind the fics, this is your moment!

🥰 📚 📖 😍 🤗 🫦 👁️ 😶 🧑‍🍳 👩‍🎓 💃🏻 🤷‍♀️ 🤦 💆🏽‍♀️🐶 🐍 🦩 🍀 🫐 🫖 🧩 🏄‍♂️ ☎️ 🪫 🎉 ☺️ 🤯 😎

Pick any emoji you can find on your phone and I’ll answer a question related to the emoji. Or be very random.

BUT if you would be so kind as to also tell me a little something about yourself, it can be as random as you want… Or share your thoughts on my blog. This way I can get to know you a little as well.

Requests are officially open

Requests were always unofficially open to the bold and the brave, but now they’re open to everyone!

Also big thank you to the ones who’ve already sent in requests, encouraging me to write and now even to open up to more requests. Kiss!

Throw in any guy you can think of, but preferably a Slytherin dude.

Combine it with any subject or even a random word if you want something short.

And I’ll try to write something and hopefully not disappoint you.

Rules? Don’t traumatise me but also don’t be shy. Worst case scenario I change your request until I can live with it. I’ve been scrolling tumblr for a decade now, I don’t judge.

Get a cameo!!

I’m looking for people to date one of the Slytherins in my next fics. So you or your OC can get a little cameo!

How it works? While the reader is still the main character, I need characters in the background dating Theodore, Mattheo, Blaise, Enzo, Draco or Pansy. Depending on the story, you’ll be mentioned a lot or just a few times. You’ll be dating your favoriete Slytherin either recently or you’ve been in a long term relationship.

Interested? Okay, I need a name. I’m not good at coming up with names and this is what inspired me to do this cameo stuff. Also sent me your house and yes you can be an exchange student if you don’t want to attend Hogwarts. Pronouns! Very important, don’t leave me guessing. Skin, eye and hair colour is not a must, but why not. Just for the fun of it, you can add what kind of student, friend or partner you’ll be. If you insist you can be a crazy ex as well. But most importantly, who do you want to date.

I might not need this much information, but it’s fun to get to know you. If you’re not an anon and don’t want to be mentioned when I post the fic then be sure to let me know so I don’t tag you.

Aaaaand a little bonus news:

Didn’t see this one coming at all…

25 000 ? That’s a lot of love! Thank you! Thank you so much!

When I’m writing and I feel like I’m stuck, my eyes wonder and usually land on my phone which is thanks to you always lighting up with tumblr notifications… encouraging me to continue writing!

Have a lovely day!

Sending you all lots of love!

#slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #mattheo riddle #theodore nott

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noxexistant · 6 months

Text

@ask-sarah-jacobs

hey, thank you for being willing to try and make this better. if you genuinely insist on keeping all of this going, my baselines would be:

1. tag everything with your own tag for the roleplay. call it anything, “[group name] roleplay”, whatever. ideally don’t use “newsies” in it. and stop using the main tags. you’re completely spamming them, and nobody wants to see it.

2. put your content under read mores, or “keep reading” buttons.

3. tag all your suggestive content, including anything a minor should not be seeing. “nsfw”, “nsfw joke”, “suggestive”, “cw suggestive”, anything.

but ultimately, i just want to pose a genuine question to all of yous:

what is the joke here? why is this the joke?

why are you writing about these children - characters between nine years old and seventeen - having sex, having threesomes, as your jokes? characters aged nine being taught what sexual terms mean, being around older people - including family members - having sex, being taught to engage in sexual behaviour? other specific incidents that are so explicit i literally don’t even feel comfortable saying them! because there are so many children in this fandom!

all of this is trademark predatory behaviour, these are tactics groomers use. it’s dangerous, it’s creepy, it’s weird. you have made so many people uncomfortable, including many minors - i’m sure even more than those who were brave enough to express this to me - and it isn’t okay. these aren’t just jokes, this is harmful behaviour. you hurt people.

are you willing to understand all of that and keep this all going? these “jokes” that nobody finds funny but you, that are explicitly upsetting other kids and ruining the fandom experience for others? this is such a small fandom!

make a discord server! make jokes like this with your friends in private. keep all your messages organised within it rather than just spamming tumblr tags. ideally, learn and grow and realise this behaviour is Not Good, but i imagine that’ll come down the line.

just, at the absolute least, abide by those few guidelines i set. be better!

thank you.

#cw grooming #just bc it’s Mentioned #it’s also 5:30am here go easy on me

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kazpurr · 1 month

Note

1, 3, 6, 7, 8, 10, 14, 15, 21, 22, 24

theres a good reason im putting this on my main and not my warrior cats sideblog because i think id be torn to shreds on there if i put any of these there lmao

1. the character everyone gets wrong

everyone is wrong about them but me (i like them) : nightheart, bramblestar, jayfeather, crowfeather, breezepelt, rootspring, bristlefrost, berryheart, curlfeather

everyone is wrong about them but me (i despise them) : nightcloud, ivypool, sparkpelt, lionblaze, shadowsight

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

these

trust me theres more but im lazy lol

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

im so sorry but anyone who ships squirrelflight with anyone are the most annoying people bc they only ship her with other cats besides bramblestar to make a point. her canon mate sucks so they have to ship her with the next worse choice . every squirreldaisy shipper would call you slurs for shippihg squirrelmoon. squirrelmoon shippers will kill you for shiping squirrelleaf. all 3 of them would kill you if you said you shipped squirrelbramble

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

squirrelflight. this is why im not putting this on my warriors blog LMAO im sorry i cant stand the way the fandom talks about her. every time a new book comes out people ignore everything to be liek "squirrelstar was written out of character. we need to kill erin hunter about this" like holy FUCK you guys need to shut up i am this close to blocking the squirrelflight / squirrelstar tag + filtering out any posts with her name in it i swear to god. shes a fine character but everyone makes liking her their entire personality trait and shes like the one character that if you dislike her you're sexist... fuck me man

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

any opinion that involves another character who did bad things but apologized and no longer does bad things. ie crowfeather who had a shit relationship with breezepelt, apologized, and have since moved on and improved their relationship. but people still insist crowfeather needs to be "punished" or worst of all go to the dark forest. like. crowfeather's trial (his super edition) was all about him regaining the respect of his ex mate and child...

10. worst part of fanon

the ships. sorry 90% of all fanon ships or things ppl want to be canon are just awful. i cant stand any jayfeather or squirrelflight ships, and they end up making these relationships their entire personality. "this is my warriors rewrite, jayfeather instead becomes mates with poppyfrost!!!!!! then they have babise and jayfeather personally kills berrynose (poppy's canon mate) and bramblestar and all the evil people and then he becomes leader and he and poppyfrost have 29859 babies together !!!" you will be boiled. into the pit with you

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

honestly i don't read a lot of warriors fics. BUT. i will say the one thing that boils my blood is when people change the names of things in universe and make it so far disconnected from warrior cats that it cant even be called that. "the river colony" "thunder clowder" "the roles are Chief Commander, Second In Command, Doctor , Herbalist, Seer, Hunter , Fighter, Monarch, and The Wise Ones!" "warrior name are instead typed as The (Prefix) (Suffix)!" "firestar's leader name will be changed to Star Firethunder!" shut uppppp shut up shut up i want to tear you apart with my teeth i HATE THIS an UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT

15. that one thing you see in fanart all the time

nightheart being orange . stop it. stop it stop it stop it

i also dont like it when warriors designs are extrmely unrecognizeable. bluestar is. well. blue. but the amount of times ive seen her drawn with black fur, green eyes, or white fur and dark blue eyes, or as like a blue tabby with green eyes, or something liek that it just makes me go. who the fuck is that

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

i think a lot of warriors villains are pretty overhyped. maybe thats just me i dont really see the appeal in most of them. though i like this current arc's villains, curlfeather splashtail and berryheart, i dont really find anything good about like. darktail or sol or hawkfrost. not even as characters bc To Me there's like nothing going for them. hawkfrost was the big bad of arc 2 but being evil was his entire personality and so he was just boring to read about, but he's easily the most overhyped villain out of like . All of them

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

this ones hard bc warrior cats is so constantly overanalyzed and picked apart that no one really "ignores" anything. i guess a more easier question is something that people dont acknowledge enough or do anything with and thats like. anything to do with starclan, really. when starclan comes up people only bring up the fact that in canon its all corrupt and evil but instead of playing into that idea (because honestly, its really cool, whether the books intend to portray it that way or not) they instead try to make it perfectly good and not evil instead of rolling with it. like come on we need more ocs with religious trauma !!! lmao

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

nightheart . say his name anywhere and youll get either ppl who are ike "YES I LOVE NIGHTHEART AND I HATE ALL WOMEN!!!!!" or people who are like "YES I HATE NIGHTHEART AND I HATE ALL MEN!!!!!!!!" and theres no in between and neither person is right

also anything about any age gaps whatsoever. me personally i think 90% of warriors age gaps are inherrently flawed and bad (ie older adult warrior male pines after young apprentice she-cat and become mates as soon as the apprentice becomes a warrior) but also theres people who have claimed that completely normal relationships that started when both parties were several years old are the smame thing (ie thornclaw and blossomfall, or thrushpelt and bluestar). its just something where no one wins lol no matter what side ur on

@hyperlinkblocked1997 there i finally answered ur ask sorry this took like 3 hours LMAO

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quollstar · 1 year

Text

Like Animals; ch1

billy butcher (the boys) x reader

warnings: this fic makes use of the sex pollen trope later on, as well as including some the boys-typical violence/language. i'm not going to post the whole thing here because to be honest i really don't know tumblr's layout or rules that well so i'll drop the first chapter and then a link to the whole thing on my ao3 if anyone is interested!

notes: reader/you is a member of the team, an ex-vought supe introduced by annie. now you work with them to take down any supe you can (this is somewhere in between szn2 and szn3!)

The job was simple– well, as simple as it gets when you take down superpowered assholes for a living. Hughie had given your group the green light to take out some low-level supe after he gave a speech at an animal rights event. According to your digging, the supposed animal liberator was actually as fake as the rest, dealing in black market pelt and meat trading on the down-low and peddling the 'vegan, fish are friends, save all the creatures' story to the public the whole while. He got shipments of V to his zoos disguised as animal feed, then presumably used it on the animals in question, the 'why' of that was unclear. What was really fucked about it was the guy could understand and speak to animals. You weren't a crunchy vegan yourself, but damn, that was cold.

It was you, Butcher and MM in the field, while Frenchie and Kimiko did surveillance in the van a few blocks away; close enough that they could come in if things went sideways and you needed another supe. So far it didn't seem like you'd be needing them, but you never know. Butcher and MM spread out through the crowd, taking care to avoid the cameras above the outside venue so they wouldn't get tagged. You, on the other hand, were fairly new to the job, and thus hadn't had your face put up on any of the criminal databases yet, and since you were a rather unknown supe there was little chance of someone recognizing you. You got to claim front row seats. Hooray.

The event itself was cheesy. You were surprised at how many people showed up, considering how bland and boring it had been so far, but you figured any big event with Vought tied to the name was bound to attract a crowd, even if the main speaker- your target- had less charisma than the longhorn bull he was on stage with. You weren't sure which of the pair smelled worse. Internally, you cursed the fact that you were essentially untraceable, because you would have loved to be in the back like Butcher.

Subtly, you looked over your shoulder to find him in the crowd. He was already looking your way, and when you met his eyes you rolled yours, glaring. He sent you one of his patented cocksure grins and gestured back towards the stage.

"Keep your eye on the prize, love," came his accented voice through your earpiece (disguised to look like a regular hearing aid). "They'll be bringing the monkeys out next, ain't that exciting?"

As quietly as you could, you snarked back: "I'm thrilled." When all this was done, you were going to tear into him for insisting you showed up for the whole show, when you could have gotten in for the last 10 minutes and then done your damn job.

His responding chuckle sounded in your right ear and something in your lower gut twisted not-unpleasantly.

You just couldn't help it. The man was attractive, and his deep voice didn't help. When you'd first joined up with the boys, introduced to their movement by Annie, he'd gotten on your nerves immensely. Actually, he still did (all the damn time) but he was a lot more bearable after getting to know him. You realized that his rudeness was usually just a way to deflect positive attention off himself and that, while he called the boys 'cunts' every other day, he would do anything to keep them safe in the field. When you felt those feelings stirring in you the first time, you swore you wouldn't get attached, but it was no use. You really loved a misunderstood bad boy type.

Nowadays, when you caught yourself feeling things for him, you didn't try to tamp it down. You just reminded yourself that he was clearly not one for new commitments. He was torn up over his late wife and on a path of rage after what Homelander had done. He didn't need some 20-something d-lister supe pining after him on top of that. You were pretty sure he would be disgusted at the idea of the two of you together.

So you kept that shit to yourself. You were used to quiet pining, anyway, always being the single friend from the moment you realized you even cared about that. You could get over it. You could be content just to admire him from afar when he wasn't looking.

Your attention was drawn back to the gaudily decorated stage when, just as Butcher had said, they carted out some chimpanzees. You weren't even entirely sure what they were doing, having tuned out most of the things Monty Montgomery had been saying about his various animal guests up until this point. Your guess was some sort of informational show, but god was it bland, and you usually liked shit like this.

You checked your watch; 2:42. The show was set to end at 3:00, and then you'd follow Monty backstage and grill him on his sketchy side hustle before finally following Butcher's precise plan to take him out. You couldn't actually kill him- Hughie would have a fit- but knocking him out would be fun. You were considering giving him an extra kick in the nuts just for making you sit through this god awful stage show. Nearly 20 minutes left. Fuck.

The remaining time could not have gone slower, dragging on as the celebrity supe went on and on about how intelligent most animals actually were. Normally you'd find that to be a lovely sentiment, but knowing what Monty does after hours just made the whole presentation seem so fake. You weren't sad when it ended and you got swept up in the crowd of people leaving the clearing to wander around the booths or stand around in groups talking about whatever it was supe fans talked about. You made to follow the crowd, then broke off away from them at the last second to head towards the backstage area. Butcher and MM would be heading that way, too, and you could finally get to the fun part of your job.

You strutted past the security stationed outside the back of the stage, flashing them the ID badge you'd nicked from another guard earlier on in the day before sweeping past them into the much quieter halls of the building behind the stage. Nobody was around and you breathed a sigh of relief; standing among the throngs of chattering people for so long had left you socially exhausted. It was nice to have a moment of quiet.

Right on time, Butcher and MM entered through the door at the other end of the hall, spotting you and making their way over. You met them in the middle.

"You sure he's in?" you asked, placing your hands on your hips.

MM nodded. "We kept on eye on him after the show, he came right back to the room. You ready?"

You huffed. "Only been waiting for this for two hours, so yeah. Jesus, why did we have to watch the whole show?"

Butcher only grinned, amused at your annoyance. "What, you don't like animals, y/n? I'm surprised. I thought you were one of them sensitive blokes."

You bit your tongue to keep from getting pissed and saying something stupid. Your feet hurt, damnit, you were ready to go home. Exactly when you started seeing the dank cellar that was your base as 'home', you didn't know, but the dark concrete walls and suspiciously wet floors were sounding really welcoming about now.

Shutting your eyes, you dropped your hands from your hips and splayed your fingers out, using the dark and quiet to hone your supe ability. As powers went, it wasn't that amazing, but it was mighty useful for missions like this, where you didn't want to be seen. You felt out mentally, searching for cameras and anything else giving out an electronic pulse from behind the door marked "STAR". When you apprehended Monty, you didn't want it to be for an audience.

"Three cameras, and one shitty desktop computer- probably also has some sort of webcam on it. Plus his phone, I think," you muttered, eyes still closed.

"Fry 'em," Butcher said.

You clenched your fists. "Done." You opened your eyes in time to catch a look from Butcher that was almost, almost admiring. It could just have easily been mocking, but you'd like to let yourself believe for one minute that he found your powers useful. The prospect brought a little smile to your face.

MM leveled you with a knowing look, then took the lead, putting his ear up to the door for just a moment before throwing it in, catching the supe inside by surprise.

Monty Montgomery had been laying on a couch inside, worn out from talking for so long (you didn't blame him there; you were worn out from listening to him talk) but quickly shot up when the three of you rushed in, the guys holding their guns and you with your hands cockily stuffed in your jean pockets.

"What the fuck??" he sputtered, looking between the three of you angrily. "Who the fuck are you?"

Butcher smiled, taking a step forward, still pointing his gun at the supe. "We're your biggest fans, mate! We wanna ask you a few questions about your job- the other one. You ever feel bad sending your little buddies to their deaths so you can sell their hides on eBay or what have you?"

Monty balked. "I- I don't know what you're talking about, psycho. How did you get in here?"

While Butcher had his attention upwards, you noticed Monty's hand inching towards his back pocket. Whether it was a gun or a phone he was reaching for, you weren't having it. Your hand lifted calmly, and you pulled, the object ripping out of the target's pants and flying into your hand. A phone. Figures. He didn't know it was useless anyways after your powers got to it.

"Really? Who're you gonna call? You have an elephant on speed dial?" You glared, making a show of using your powers to crush his phone. It was overkill, but you liked the shocked look on his face. As it fell to the ground, Monty's eyes narrowed.

"What do you want from me?" He asked, tone guarded.

"Already said. We want to ask you about your side hustle, and what exactly you're doing with the Compound V you have sent to your place every month," Butcher said, gesturing towards the couch with his gun. "Now sit down."

end of chapter one!

please see here if you'd like to keep reading:

#the boys #x reader #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #self insert #ao3 fanfic #ao3

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deathlygristly · 7 months

Text

I searched for why people say marriage is hard, and I found a Reddit thread with an OP sincerely asking why people said marriage was hard.

I understood the OP, but the people who replied didn't. They reminded me of people I've encountered though.

Entirely personal long writing through my thoughts under the cut.

They accused him of bragging when he wasn't, they said all huffily that well some other people do have hard marriages when he never said otherwise, and they insisted that marriage being hard meant that life events happen independently of the relationship and this somehow makes the relationship hard and they refused to understand him saying okay, yeah, but actually my spouse makes the life events easier to handle.

If the thread hadn't been three years old and if I hadn't deleted my account, I probably would have replied to the person who said that parents die with yeah, we both had one die before we even met, so how does that make marriage hard?

The miscommunication seemed to be that the OP, and me I guess since I got the OP so well, was asking what specifically makes marriage hard for so many people. Almost all the people who replied instead assumed things about the OP and went off into their feelings about how oh it's nice for you that your life is perfect and I hope you pass when you get tested, you horrible bragger you, and then they implied that it was just basic life events that happen to everyone that made marriage hard.

I wonder if this miscommunication and difference in what we mean by "hard" applies to that post I reblogged about love (of all kinds, not just legally committed romantic relationships) being hard.

When I think of a relationship being hard work, I think of...well, like I said in that post, the emotionally abusive ex-friend. Like trying to be friends with someone who is constantly subtly mean to you and who randomly gets angry over things that you couldn't predict would make them angry and whose words and behavior make you feel like you're a horrible person all the time and that you can't do anything right and you probably don't deserve to have a friend or to exist. Like a relationship being "hard" to me means that it's unhealthy and emotionally exhausting and full of drama and anger and big emotions and fights and abuse.

The people who replied to the Reddit thread seemed to think more in the line of, I don't know, marriage being hard because of things like the ulcer. Which I don't think me nearly bleeding to death was very fun for either of us, but the spousal person never got angry at me about it and I didn't get angry at him. He stayed in the hospital with me and he helped deflect my mother when she got too annoying when all I wanted to do was be quiet because I didn't have enough blood. No fighting, no drama, no abuse.

I think maybe the main difference is that when I think of hard work in a relationship, I think of trying to placate someone with abusive tendencies. The people in the Reddit thread seemed to think of it as just going through life together and life not always being super easy. I looked at the tags on the Tumblr post about love being hard and honestly I wasn't able to get a good read on how the other people in that post were defining the concepts and talking about them. Thus why I was searching for other discussions about it.

Anyway, I wonder if the Reddit OP was also somewhere on the spectrum? It's just rare for me to encounter someone on the internet where I understand what they're trying to communicate like that.

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x-i-l-verify · 1 year

Note

Oooh, you like Trigun! Do 3, 9, 12, and 25.

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you’ve seen on tumblr

On tumblr specifically? Um... every single one that insists that either of the twins having any kind of incestuous obsession with each other (usually on Knives' end) is the correct reading of the story and that anyone who disagrees is willfully misinterpreting the source material. I don't go into the main tags anymore. -_-

9. worst part of canon

Nightow's tendency to under-explain his worldbuilding or just toss in elements that make no sense just because he thinks it's cool. Some amount of mystery is fine, but there comes a point where it just becomes frustrating. Take, for example, the canon explanation for Legato's powers in the manga, e.g. that he can just randomly control people with tiny, undetectable metal threads implanted in their muscles. Like no, I'm sorry, Mr. Nightow, that explanation is the stupidest thing I've ever heard and I am throwing it in the garbage. I've come up with my own explanations for all the the weird, unexplained abilities random characters in Trigun have to make my brain hurt less, but I shouldn't HAVE to. And this is just one example.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

I... hm. You know, I can't really think of a super underrated Trigun character, come to think of it. The fandom is generally pretty good at giving characters that deserve it love. I guess I could say that Marlon is kind of underrated, given the fact that he only shows up in 1 episode of the old anime and only makes sporadic appearances in the manga, but he's cool, I like him.

25. common fandom complaint that you’re sick of hearing

"StAmPedE's AnIMAtioN iS So BaD, iT loOKs TerriBle-"

#ask meme #trigun #novelmonger #I do indeed like Trigun thanks for noticing lol :p #i may also have Thoughts and Opinions

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ynscrazylife · 2 years

Note

I don't have any plot ideas at the moment, but maybe a Marvel halloween fic please? Thanking you <3

Moonlight | n.r & w.m

Summary: The full moon ruins your Halloween plans, but your girlfriends are there for you.

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

“Oh, look at what finally came!”

You had been sitting at the dining room table, filling out a mission report for the Avengers and drinking tea with Natasha when you heard your girlfriend’s voice. You and Natasha both looked up, only to see Wanda walking in, carrying the mail and holding a particular envelope. She wore a bright smile and slid the envelope onto the table, so you and Natasha could get a look at it.

In easily-recognizable, cursive handwriting, the ink on the envelope said: “To Natasha, Wanda, and Y/N.”

“This must be Pepper’s writing — there’s no way Tony’s is this neat,” you commented, watching as Natasha took the envelope and opened it up, pulling out its contents. The three of you already knew what this was — it arrived in your mailbox every year in late October.

Natasha slipped out a thin card that said: “TONY’S HALLOWEEN BASH” with the date of October 31st and the address of the Stark Tower printed below.

“He must have had someone else do the invitations. This looks considerably better than last years,” Natasha said, allowing you and Wanda to look over the card.

“Are we RSVP’ing then?” You said, even though it wasn’t really a question. You RSVP’d every year — every superhero who received it did. Tony always hosted the best parties, especially on Halloween.

“I’ll let Pepper know right now,” Wanda said, pulling out her phone from her pocket.

“Y/N,” Natasha said, turning to look at you from her place across the table from you. She wore a hesitating, cautionary look. You leaned back in your seat, raising your eyebrows. Natasha never hesitated to say anything. “When is, uh, the full moon? It’s already the 26th and if it’s soon, we should plan so that you’ll feel well enough to go to the party.”

The Full Moon was always a rough time of the month, so it made sense why Natasha didn’t seem fully confident in asking about it. Both she and Wanda were aware of how painful your transformations were, and despite how long the three of you dated, you always preferred to deal with them on your own. Natasha and Wanda had never actually seen you in your werewolf form.

You pulled out your phone to check. You had been so busy this past week that the full moon had completely slipped your mind. A quick google search gave you your answer — and made you frown. “What is it?” Wanda asked gently.

“The 31st,” you answered quietly, glancing up but not looking at your girlfriends.

Natasha and Wanda shot each other a look. No matter how many times they told you that they were happy to help you through the full moon, you still refused. You told them that it was because you didn’t want to hurt them (even though Wanda could cast spells to protect herself and Natasha), but you were also insecure about them seeing your werewolf form. What if it scared you off? What if they thought you were ugly?

“Oh, that’s alright,” Wanda said, smiling softly.

“Tony’s party is always the same anyway,” Natasha added, shrugging.

This caused you to meet their gazes, confused. “What? No. You guys should still go, I’ll be fine,” you insisted, not wanting them to miss out.

Natasha and Wanda shared another glance. “We don’t want to go without you, love,” Natasha said, reaching out across the table to grab your hand.

You managed a smile, looking at them both, and accepting Natasha’s hand. “I want you guys to, though. I promise I’ll be fine here. This is what’s best. You’ll have so much fun—you always do,” you said, unrelenting.

Your girlfriends still seemed hesitant, so you gave Natasha’s hand a squeeze. “Do it for me, c’mon! I’ll be 100% okay. I have Agatha’s potions that she gives me for the pain so it won’t be too bad,” you said. The last part wasn’t exactly true, which you all knew, but you wanted to be tough for them.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Wanda asked, tilting her head to the side and raising her eyebrows as she ran a hand through her hair.

You nodded. “Positive,” you assured them.

They were both still hesitant, but would go if it made you happy. They did want to go, but they wanted to do what was best for you first. If this was it, they’d manage. The night of, they still hated to leave you, but you practically shoved them out the door after admiring their dresses and giving them kisses and hugs.

They giggled and gave you one last big hug, promising not to be home too late, before leaving.

When they drove off in Natasha’s car, you let out a soft sigh before closing the door. Your transformation always took a couple hours and for the rest of the night, you’d be stuck in werewolf form until dawn. All there was left to do was prepare and wait it out.

————————————————————————

The party had been nice . . . At first. Natasha and Wanda were swept away with dancing and catching up with their friends, but it wasn’t long before they felt a loss. They danced, but not with you. They ate and drank, but not with you. They talked to people, but not with you. They had to explain to multiple friends how you had insisted that they go without you, and many people had inquired on if you were alright. Around two hours in, Wanda found herself searching for Natasha, only to see the redhead standing on the balcony.

Wanda smiled, observing her girlfriend for a moment before slipping outside and joining her. Natasha didn’t move at first, her gaze stuck on the sky. Wanda noticed how the moonlight seemed to shine on her face as she looked up. Following her gaze to the moon, Wanda took her hand. “You thinking about Y/N?” She asked.

Natasha nodded and squeezed Wanda’s hand. “I hate being here without them,” she admitted, sighing and keeping her eyes on the moon.

Wanda let out a quiet hum of agreement, only shifting her gaze to glance at the redhead. They both missed their partner deeply and stood together for a little bit while they admired the view, thought about Y/N, and breathed in the night air. The only interruption came when Natasha’s phone started ringing. She huffed and fished it out, but softened and exchanged a glance with Wanda, showing her the caller ID.

The smiling face of Y/N.

The women knew that by now, you should of already went to the cabin in the woods that the three of you lived nearby. It was where you went every full moon. Natasha accepted the call and put it on speakerphone: “Y/N? Are you okay?”

For a second, only a bit of rustling and shuffling could be heard. Then, Y/N spoke, words forced and slowed: “I’m — out — of — the potion,” they said, then let out a large breath of air, clearly holding some sort of pain in. “Starting the — transformation — it — hurts.” An involuntary whimper followed, breaking Natasha and Wanda’s hearts. It must be bad if you were calling them.

One look at each other and a silent plan was set in motion. Wanda immediately left to grab hers and Natasha’s coats, along with saying a quick goodbye to Tony, while Natasha stayed on the phone with you. “We’re on our way home right now, love. Just hang on,” she encouraged.

“Oh—kay,” you said, both your voice and breath shaking as you finally accepted their help. Every sound of pain from you that Natasha heard was jolting her like an electric shock. She wished she could reach through the phone and hug you.

Once she saw Wanda heading back, Natasha met her halfway and quickly got her phone on. They both walked as quickly as their high heels could allow, heading to the parking lot and finding Natasha’s car. Wanda took the phone while Natasha drove — barely going the speed limit.

“You’re going to get through this, Y/N. We’re almost—” Wanda cooed, only to get interrupted by your scream of pain from the transformation.

Hearing that, she gripped the phone a little tighter and Natasha sped up a little, frowning. They managed to quickly get home. Natasha had barely pulled into the driveway before Wanda was jumping out, sprinting towards the cabin. After shutting off the engine, Natasha followed.

Wanda ended the call right before they burst inside the cabin, only to find you lying on the floor, withering in pain. They both dropped to their knees, pulling you into their arms. Every scream that tore from your lips pierced their hearts. There was nothing they could do except hold you until the transformation continued, whispering soothing things and running their hands through your hair in an attempt to help.

“Get ‘way. Gonna hurt you,” you muttered, weakly pushing at Natasha and Wanda and trying to lean away.

“Wanda can put up a barrier around us, but we’re only leaving when it’s time,” Natasha said, loudly so you could hear her in your disoriented and pained state.

After this change, you couldn’t sit — or lie — still. The pain was becoming too much. Natasha and Wanda didn’t stop you, but were careful to make sure that you didn’t accidentally hurt yourself. When your hands shifted to claws and fur began to grow, and you practically leapt away, they knew to let you go. They both stood up, watching the transformation take place. It was unlike either of them had ever seen — but contrary to your beliefs, they weren’t scared. Mesmerized, more like it. Curious. Wanting to help. Do something.

You ran to the back of the cabin and, finally in your full werewolf form, let out a howl. Then, your yellow eyes locked onto your girlfriends and within seconds, were bounding towards them. Wanda managed to be quicker, though, and with a few words and the wave of her hands, an invisible boundary was put up around them.

You promptly ran into it, bouncing back and letting out a confused whimper. “Sorry, hun,” Wanda apologized.

Natasha observed you for a moment, as you walked around the cabin. “Damn, Y/N’s cute even as a wolf,” she said, to which Wanda smiled and nodded along to.

You eventually settled down and Natasha and Wanda made their way to the corner, keeping their eyes on you. “Are we gonna stay up all night?” Natasha inquired.

“Maybe not entirely. Y/N would not want that,” Wanda said. She had no interest in pissing you off — you could be almost as scary as Natasha.

The redhead nodded. A couple minutes passed, and the Vampire and the Witch seemed to relax. “Well, she seems rather calm—” Wanda began to say, only for your ears and head to perk up at a sound. Within a flash, you were on all fours and had ran out the cabin door. “—Nevermind.”

They followed after you, watching as you ran around the trees, growling and howling. Seeing you so free brought smiles to their faces — it seemed like you were having fun. The moonlight was shining on you, illuminating your fur.

“So beautiful,” Wanda murmured. Natasha squeezed your hand.

They watched you in awe until you stopped, looked up, and howled at the moon. Your gaze was fixated on it. You paused for a moment, before sprinting off into the woods.

Your ears hadn’t moved, so it wasn’t a sound you heard . . . Which meant that you must’ve been chasing the moonlight. Natasha and Wanda connected the dots, their smiles only growing.

“Adorable,” they said in union.

When you didn’t return, they assumed you were still on your chase. Growing tired, the two decided to head back for the night and get some rest so that they could wake up early in the morning. They walked hand-in-hand, their minds on you, until they reached their house. Their thoughts never left you as they changed into pajamas. Both would pause and smile when they heard a howl in the distance. Eventually, they climbed into bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms to the sounds of the night and to your howling.

Natasha had set her alarm so that it’d go off before the sun even rose — they wanted to be prepared. When it did, she and Wanda woke up a little tiredly, but excited to go see you. They got dressed and grabbed blankets and a change of clothes for you before heading back to the cabin.

They found you laying in the grass a little bit away from the cabin, though. You were curled up on the ground, still in your Werewolf form, your back facing your girlfriend and letting out whimpers. Natasha draped the blanket over you and sat down with Wanda, both rubbing your back and petting your head to provide any sort of comfort.

Eventually, the whimpers grew louder and louder. Natasha and Wanda tensed up each time, but they reminded themselves that they were getting you back soon. After what felt like an eternity, you shifted back. The big blanket practically swallowed you and you seemed to be asleep.

(Natasha and Wanda thought you looked very cute, as they always did)

Tucking you in the blanket, Wanda gently rolled you onto her back. She let out a small gasp when she saw a gash on your forehead, exchanging a worried look with a frowning Natasha before gently shaking your shoulder.

A groan let them know that you were awake and you blinked your eyes open slowly, only to find yourself staring back in the loving eyes of your girlfriends. “Welcome back,” Wanda said.

You scrunched your face up for a moment before the memories of the night came back like a tidal wave. You slowly sat up, with Wanda helping you. “You saw everything?” You asked.

“We weren’t there for the entirety of the night, but we saw some,” Wanda explained as you leaned against her. Despite just waking up, the transformation and the night exhausted you and you were in some pain, your body quite sore.

“You’re a cute wolf,” Natasha added, grinning.

This eased your growing worries and you blushed, but smiled at her. “What’s that on your forehead?” Natasha then asked.

You touched the side of your head, just now realizing that it was bleeding. “Oh,” you said, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah. Sometimes I, uh, get into fights with other animals.”

Natasha and Wanda couldn’t help but smirk and you bit your lip. “How about we get you inside?” Wanda suggested, handing you the pair of clothes she had gotten you. You nod and slipped them on — it was a plain t-shirt and shorts. Wanda helped you up and Natasha joined the two of you on your other side, both helping you walk.

Their arms were wrapped around you and you leaned into them, enjoying the comfort and security that your girlfriends provided.

When you three got inside, Wanda led you to your guys’ bedroom and Natasha grabbed the first aid kit. Wanda got you settled into the bed, pulling the covers over you and letting you lean against her. The full moon always took a lot out of you and your first instinct was to succumb to sleep.

“Not just yet, love,” Wanda gently told you, humming as she ran her thumb over your cheek.

You whined, but blinked your eyes open just in time to spot Natasha entering the room. She climbed onto the bed next to you, opening the first aid kit and sorting through the stuff. “This might sting a little,” she warned, before reaching out and beginning to clean your cut.

You winced, but Wanda soothed you by rubbing her hand up and down your arm. You allowed yourself to relax into her. Natasha finished cleaning it and put a small bandage on, before putting the first aid kit away. When she climbed back into bed, you were squished between them.

(Not that you minded)

“Now you can sleep,” Wanda told you, as your back rested against her chest and you faced Natasha, lying down.

You smiled, getting comfortable with your head on the pillow. Natasha ran her fingers through your hair, almost combing it. This action only lulled you deeper into sleep’s hold — something Natasha and Wanda both knew would happen. “This really takes a lot out of you, hm?” Natasha observed, watching over you carefully.

“Yeah . . .” You admitted quietly, eyes already closed. “‘M sorry for ruining Halloween.”

“Oh, darling,” Natasha said as Wanda wrapped her arm around your waist, holding you close.

“You didn’t ruin anything. We wanted to take care of you and help,” Wanda assured you.

You found yourself smiling and blinked your eyes open for a second. “You guys can help during the full moon . . . If you want,” you relented.

Natasha and Wanda smiled at each other, so happy that you had finally blessed them with your permission. “We’d love to,” Natasha said.

You closed your eyes again. With Wanda’s arms around you and Natasha’s hand in your hair, it put you to sleep quite quickly. Natasha and Wanda noticed this and smiled. “I cannot get enough of this cuteness,” Wanda said, grinning and kissing your cheek. When you smiled in her sleep, the women had to refrain from cooing.

“The most adorable sight ever,” Natasha agreed, reaching her free arm over you and Wanda.

Neither of them were tired, so they just watched over you while you slept, keeping up a quiet conversation. It was the perfect lazy day to relax indoors, all cuddled up. They absolutely loved it.

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