#this is fascinating. i would love to look at my fucking genes because what

[schadenfreudich]

A tiny little bit more facial hair!!!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 407: Wait Why Are You Running Away

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan figured out how to control his quirk upgrade and was totally chill and normal about it. Definitely not terrifying at all. He actually spent the entire chapter smiling and laughing like the wholesome little boy he is. I don’t know why Kid For One is so freaked out about it. He even politely introduced himself using his childhood nickname. Clearly he just wants to be friends with you, KFO!

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “sorry to keep you waiting, here’s the AFO and Yoichi flashback you ordered at long last” and proceeds to serve a nightmarish stew of HUMAN MISERY and RATS and STABBING and CARNAGE and SO MUCH MURDER and THE SINGLE MOST FUCKED-UP CASE OF CODEPENDENCY ANYONE HAS EVER WRITTEN. I was not even remotely prepared for any of this, and if anyone else claims that they were, I will call you a liar to your face. If this chapter had a mouth it would scream. Or just sob, ceaselessly and uncontrollably. I’m really glad Horikoshi is on break next week because that man needs to take a fucking nap. My god.

okay WOW

anyone else read the first two words and just immediately say to themselves, “oh okay, so it’s gonna be one of those chapters”? I mean, I guess we were due for a darker chapter after last week’s Kacchan Comedy Tour. but idk, I just wasn’t expecting “homeless sick prostitute with a drinking problem” levels of dark

AND SHE’S PREGNANT?!

what exactly is this manga rated again? doesn’t this backstory seem just a little bit raw for the impressionable kiddos??

has anyone actually checked in on Horikoshi recently? you know, just to make sure he is okay??

what a fun and wholesome manga this is

the lil baby arm covered in blood with the AFO hole on the palm. lying next to the dead mom hand. what an image to sear into our minds. I guess it’s been a while since he killed any dogs. gotta keep us on our toes somehow

also wasn’t expecting AFO and Yoichi to be twins! that puts an interesting spin on their relationship, because it’s usually a closer bond than even regular siblings. especially with all of that delightful shared trauma from a young age!!

yes, exactly

ohhhh this chapter is gonna hurt me, isn’t it. okay. ooooooookay. let’s do this

OH I’M SORRY, THERE’S MORE?!

Horikoshi my dude. you do realize that their mom dying in childbirth and the two of them just barely surviving and growing up as street orphans would have already been MORE than tragic enough, backstory-wise. you did not have to turn this into a freaking horror show with RATS TRYING TO EAT THEIR NEWBORN SELVES jesus christ

and THAT’S where you chose to put a one year timeskip?!

what the fuck am I reading here, you guys. no please tell me, I am actually desperate to understand

so the narrator is saying that some of the quirks manifested later in life, in “pubescent and pre-pubescent stages”, which is interesting because it’s the first time I can recall hearing about someone actually manifesting a quirk that late. maybe Deku’s old OFA cover story was more plausible than I realized

anyway so eventually it occurred to everyone that they should maybe freaking study this shit, idk. and eventually the researchers concluded that the superpowers came from a new gene that apparently isn’t human. and upon hearing that, society apparently lost its freaking mind. which is fascinating to me because it implies that the turning point wasn’t actually the superpowers themselves, but the realization of what it meant

like, so they were apparently fine with it when they thought it was a “mysterious disease”, but somehow it hit different when they learned it wasn’t actually a sickness at all, but instead the Next Step in Evolution. and it became an “us vs them” thing, as opposed to a “we have to cure these poor people” thing. damn

anyway so now Japan is a dystopia and we’re cutting to a big crowd of merc-looking dudes who are getting ready to attack some “meta freaks”, how lovely

but who is this figure in the shadows

I ask politely, as if it wasn’t already beyond obvious that this is AFO about to wreck some people’s shit

ohhhhh my god lmao

hopefully Katsuki and Deku can take the present day AFO out before he winds up looking like this. because this little fella is clearly demonic and idk if anyone can stop him

you all don’t understand. you need to run the fuck away right now

oh shit it’s already too late for them

it’s too late for any of us. it’s over. it’s all fucking over

((((；゜Д゜)))

AFO I am putting the manga down. I am backing away slowly with my hands in the air. I mean you no harm. please for the love of god have mercy

holy

“you see, we told you he wasn’t human” okay Scientific Research Group, you know what?? you win this round I guess

“HE WAS LITERALLY EVIL FROM BIRTH” HORIKOSHI SERIOUSLY ARE YOU OKAY??

HE WAS BORN AN ARROGANT BABY is literally the most terrifying sentence I have ever read

what the entire fuck

it’s a gorgeous sunny mid-November afternoon outside my window. but no matter how hard it tries, the light cannot reach this place

what kind of moron would throw a can of soda at him. officially the stupidest person we have ever seen in this manga

OH MY GOD OF COURSE IT’S HIM LMAO

(ETA: how come baby Yoichi has clothes that fit him perfectly but baby AFO is just stomping around wearing a tablecloth.)

BABY YOICHI. OH MY GOD. HOW THE HELL DID YOU GROW UP TO BE SANE AND KIND AND GOOD. THAT’S MY QUESTION THAT I NEED ANSWERED RIGHT NOW. YOU ARE LITERALLY A MIRACLE. YOU ARE AN IMPOSSIBILITY, DO YOU KNOW THAT

small and weak, but also so, so cute. all of the cuteness genes went straight to him. no wonder AFO was jealous

(ETA: just want to press pause for a second to speculate about what type of twins AFO and Yoichi are, since it has some relevance to the story, and especially to the OFA/AFO quirk lore. so! at first glance the two of them would appear to be fraternal twins, just based on the fact that they have very different appearances, and also the fact that Yoichi doesn’t have the AFO quirk – no holes in his hands, etc. identical twins are born from the same fertilized egg, so in theory they would both have the same sequence of DNA, which means Yoichi would have had the same quirk as AFO. but that doesn’t appear to be the case. so all of that points to them being fraternal, not identical.

on the other hand, there is one piece of evidence in this chapter that does support them being identical twins, and that’s the fact that per the narration, AFO absorbed most of the nutrients from their mother. a few minutes of google fu informed me that this condition is relatively rare, and only happens in cases where two twins share a placenta, which typically is only the case for identical twins. HOWEVER, for what it’s worth, there have also been rare instances where two fraternal twin placentas fuse together and become a single placenta. AND this apparently also increases the chances of one of the twins gaining more of the nutrients and causing the other twin to have a lower birth weight.

so based on the evidence here, my conclusion is that the two of them are most likely fraternal twins with a case of placental fusion. besides, you can’t tell me that stealing his baby brother’s placenta while the two of them are literally still in the womb doesn’t sound like exactly the type of BS that fetus!AFO would pull, lol.)

HEY!?!

okay?!?!?! well to be fair he did throw that soda at him

oh my god this is so fucked up. in like the best and worst way possible

I genuinely couldn’t ask for a better AFO backstory. it’s so incredibly twisted, and you actually do feel sorry for him. or at least I do. but it’s also beyond clear that this kid was FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL REASON right from the get go. zero goodness in him. literally doesn’t see other people as people. sees them as possessions only. things to rule over. not other thinking, feeling human beings. and that includes his own little brother

but. even if it’s not actually what I would call love, there’s still... attachment, there. it’s the closest he can get to actually caring about someone. guh. just, somehow they have both managed to humanize him, and at the same time made him less human than ever. this manga, man. this fucking manga, though

lmao and here we go. Captain Hero

you know, all those times that I made fun of AFO for not knowing how to read, I never suspected that the twist in his backstory would be that he LITERALLY DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO READ dfksjdlfkjslkdf

but seriously though. because Yoichi appears to be self-taught, and I can’t see AFO having the patience for that, and CLEARLY no one else was around to teach him, sooooo...

oh my goodness it’s actually getting wholesome up in here

what a good fucking boy. poor AFO. fuck me, I can’t help it. it’s not your fault you’re the world’s greatest monster you poor bastard

now we’re cutting to THREE YEARS LATER. okay

is he going to declare war on the glowing baby

typical teenager concerned about nothing but likes and view counts. AFO you would be so much happier if you stopped worrying about all of that and just focused on your own growth

oh, lol. well that was quick

(ETA: r.i.p. Damien.)

“this guy had more instagram followers than me. so I killed him” honey. sweetie pie. you need therapy

omfg

all this time I was wondering who AFO’s middle school lit teacher was who had failed so spectacularly at teaching him reading comprehension. and it was YOICHI ALL ALONG. omg

“and, presumably, that’s how it always was and always will be.” dude. can you imagine listening to AFO’s oral book report on A Tale of Two Cities. “ahem. it was the Best of Times. the end” buddy noooooooo

it was at that moment when Yoichi knew, etc. etc.

oh my GOD I scrolled down to the next panel right after this one and I just IMMEDIATELY DIED LAUGHING

“WAS IT SOMETHING I SAID” ffffffffffffffff I fucking can’t omfg

NOW THIS HUSSY IS STEALING HIS BROTHER AWAY FROM HIM NOOOOOOO

HE’S HIS!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! THAT’S NOT ALLOWED!!!

oh my god the hands. so wait, is this just the standard symbolic BnHA handholding, or are there More Levels To This. when exactly did Yoichi pass OFA on to Kudou. like is that why the sudden close-up and all that? omg

WHAT!!!!

OH THAT’S THE END, HUH? THAT’S THE END RIGHT THERE, AND THAT’S JUST HOW IT IS. I SEE. OKAY THEN. EXCUSE ME WHILE I PUT MY LAPTOP DOWN AND GO INTO THE NEXT ROOM AND SCREAM INTO A PILLOW

oh my god. and break next week too. this is what you guys have been dealing with this entire time huh. I understand your feelings now. godfuckingdammit lmao

[mommalosthermind]

went to see the geneticist about that whole cancer thing today so. I’m gonna put a read more, because I tend to ramble, and then I’m gonna fucking shout into the void because American Healthcare would prefer if you’d be so kind as to just shut up and die quickly, please.

Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes I spent with this woman carefully explaining to me how this test would work and why she thinks I should do it. forty of those minutes she said things like, “your family history is… a lot,” “Family is only ten percent of the equation so don’t panic too much,” “But your risk is still probably somewhere around 30% and if this test is postitive that bumps right up to EIGHTY—,” (Insert in-depth but understandable explanation of genes and terms I only half remember now but was fascinating at the time tbh)

I loved her, she was fantastic. And then. And then.

She put down all her files and folded her hands on the table. This woman went from sweet and professional and kind right to the type of bone-deep sorrow that’s got nowhere to go so it builds.

“First, I need you to know that I believe in what we do here. It sounds like this test would alleviate a lot of your concerns, no matter what the results. I do feel that you should get this screening done, for yourself and your kids. However.”

And she stopped, and took a deep breath. “The good news is, we’ve passed a law so that a positive test cannot influence your health insurance in anyway. We’re not even required to give them your results. The problem with that, is the law comes with loopholes. If you come back positive, we are legally required to give that information to certain places upon being asked. And if you do not have these programs already in place, it will be very difficult to get them after a positive, because a positive is considered a pre-existing condition. Life insurance companies. Disability. If you ever need long-term or in-home care. These places will look at that positive and, at the very least, raise your potential rates.” “So,” I said, like an idiot who should’ve known better but was too busy focusing on how this test meant I’d finally fucking know just how worried I should be, “You’re saying that this test, which is preventative care, would make it impossible to get the programs I’d need, if and when I actually get sick.”

“They don’t see you as a person,” she answers. She sounds so fucking tired. She’s said this so often the words have carved grooves into her mouth. They probably don’t hurt anymore, but she looks like she wishes they would. “They’re a business first and only.”

“I’m aware of how capitalism works, yes. I’d apparently forgotten how much it would prefer I die without inconveniencing the system supposedly designed to help me.” Then I apologize for allowing the angry millennial in me control of my tongue.

She just shakes her head. “Honey. I’m right there with you.”

I don’t know what the right answer is here. I don’t HAVE life insurance. We can’t afford it. My partner gets his through the military, which means I’m only eligible if we get hitched. But if we do that, me and all three kids lose healthcare entirely. Stars forbid something actually fucking happens to me. “I can’t tell you the right answer here. All I can do is tell you what I’ve seen happen. There was a woman, not too long ago, who’s got a similar background to you. Small kids and all.” The geneticist looks down at her hands. “I told her the same thing. She decided to go ahead despite not having these programs set up in advance.” She puts both hands up, like she’s warding me off, but you and I already know how this ends. “I have to make sure you know, we did not anticipate a positive at all. At all. But she came back positive, and now she’s having a nightmare trying to set up some kind of life insurance to take care of her kids in case something does pop up.” “You mean they’re turning her away, or asking for insane amounts of money, because they’d rather she die than help. Y’know. Like they’re supposed to. Because the healthcare part of this is caring for my health.”

“You’d think,” She said. I wonder how she sleeps, when she’s pulled so thin. How she can still go to work, when she knows exactly the potential, the help she’s offering, and how the system itself snatches it away from her over and over and over again.

I left with her card in my pocket, and the promise that they’ll get me in for that screening if I call for one. Now, a year, ten years. They’ll get me in. So. Do I fuck myself over now, or wait until the threat of cancer becomes a reality, and get fucked over then? I started this angry. It’s probably pretty clear when that drained right out into tired. I’m so tired. I want to cry. This was meant to give us a better way forward. This was meant to answer questions, and let us know how worried we should be about our kids. This is such a small thing. This is SUCH A SMALL THING. One test. 36 genes. So many cancers, the breast and the ovarian I’m terrified will come for me next, like so many other of my family’s stellar gifts. What is the point of this, if I’m going to end up punished so severely I might be denied actual care over it?

I think, really, what’s got me fucked up the most is that I should have seen this coming. I should have known better. I should not have been waiting to put down all that anxiety because I was so caught up in ‘I’ll KNOW.’

Fucking fuck.

The middle kid’s waiting to hear back on whether or not the insurance has decided he’s allowed to have fucking braces, and I thought I’d get to just know my risks of getting sick without there being a consequence. Specialists are telling me I should be so very worried about my cancer risks.

Ten years to even see her. And I’m back at square one, with a pcp who’s going to look at me in a few months, sidestep all my questions and go, “I thought you were going to try and lose a few pounds? What happened to weight watchers?”

What happened is, I’m counting points and counting calories and counting fucking steps and not losing weight, because the body doesn’t work like that. I might be teetering on developing a fucking eating disorder instead, but that’s between me and myfitnesspal/weightwatchers. But also: my weight is not the fucking problem. This was such a small thing. If I end up actually with the cancer everyone’s spent so long warning me about, what then? When it’s not such a small thing? What are the consequences for us then? THIS WAS MEANT TO BE A SMALL THING. QUICK. EASY. I’m not even fucking sick! THIS WAS A PREVENTATIVE MEASURE.

American healthcare is violence.

If it’s like this and I’m not even sick, how fucking awful is it for people who ARE?

Vote blue down the ballot, in the hopes that some fucking day our healthcare will actually fucking care.

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

Honestly I'm honest to god bored rn so I'm just gonna like write random shit about genshin/hsr/zenless guys that are either self aware or not (idk I'm typing this as I go)

Fair warning some might end up as smut thoughts since I have no filter while waiting for 2.2 to come for star rail

Okay but like- Wrio is a beastman right? We're all in agreement about this aren't we? Like I know he doesn't have ears or a tail but if Lyney is blood twins with Lynette then that mean beastmen genes don't always show!! I know we classify beastmen as characters with those traits but realistically wouldn't any children with their blood be classified as that race? Since it's not a transformation thing within Hoyo then you can have the blood of one and not have the more showy traits. With these points in my I will always assume Wrio is a beastman YOU CAN'T CHANGE MY MIND I REFUSE TO DEBATE ON THIS

That said....does this mean Lyney has barbs-

COUGH OKAY ILL STOP MY BARBED LYNEY AGENDA LMAO

Actually speaking of cat like men, Jing Yuan really like sets me off. Idk how but I just see his face and I wanna punch it. He just very much gives me the vibes of liking tsuns and I hate that the dynamic in my head makes me go insane. LIKE THEY COULD BE THE MEANEST BITCH AND HE WOULD JUST BE HAPPILY SMILING CHEEKILY WHILE CUDDLING THEM AS THEY CHEW OUT SOMEONE. It sounds so cute.

Also like Ratio very much fascinates me, like Alhaitham. I just really wanna pick the brains of those that are super smart, probably cause it could lead me to somehow becoming more "normal" and smart dhskdhf. Though I don't with how abnormal they are, but still I would love to talk with them about how the difference in emotional and logical responses have their importance in certain situations and also how idiocy is more so curable if you can get past the human ego.

I honestly have no idea how the dynamic between me and them would be like. Alhaitham I feel like it would be a mix of how he is with Kaveh but also mixed with a dumber version of him.

Ratio....honestly I think he would just see me as an idiot and not want to be around me LMAO. Like I can be smart...in certain topics dhskdj. But that's mainly only in art, video games, and tons of random trivia for various things. If he asked me to solve something like in math, if it's isn't a simple equation (like middle school x=y bullshit easy) I got no fucking clue. I can do simple math fast (Fast Math my saving grace, where are my fellow Fast Math champions!), not human calculator fast but fast enough to be the first one to answer most of the time.

Though maybe talking about art could be my slight savior? Since while I don't know specifically physical art techniques (besides for maybe watercolor, but it's been years since I transitioned to digital), I do love the process of art very much. Not so much art history but more so just the passion into it it takes (it's why ai art pisses me off but I'd rather not get into that). Like the meaning or reason as to why someone created something. Why would someone create an image in one way? To experiment? Because why not?

I'm not smart enough to really get philosophical or anything, but I do enjoy talking about such things with others. Though even I need to get over my ego since sometimes I know I'll shut down conversations if I realize I'm sounding like an ignorant idiot (a real big problem I have. I just hate feeling like one so much because then I have a harder time expressing myself or I think the person looks down on me somehow).

Oh god I rambled a lot about these two and myself dhskfjfk. Either way, I think I could at least be able to converse with them. But who knows if they would have positive feelings with me.

Moving topics LYCAON BEING FERAL- cough. Okay but come on!!! Like even his introduction gave hints of him being less refined as he shows himself. I WANNA SEE IT. While I love characters that are like this I just also want to know what makes them tick I WANNA BE THE ONE TO FIND AND PUSH THOSE BUTTONS. Like I don't want them to hate me oh no, but I just wanna see them snarl and rage in combat. WHAT REALLY MAKES ME CRAZY IS WHEN THEY DO GO BATSHIT ITS TO PROTECT THEIR LOVED ONES GOD AAAA

Ahem, anyway-

Honestly if in a self aware au I wonder how Lyney and Arlecchino would feel about the player simping over them both. Like how awkward would that be???? Idk if I could face them if I was isekaied into genshin because of this.

Actually I wouldn't be able to face anyone in genshin or Star Rail cause I've said SO MUCH DIRT ABOUT MYSELF AS I PLAYED, EVERYONE WOULD JUST KNOW ABOUT WHO ID WANT TO FUCK AND WHAT MY HC OF THEM WERE GOD. I would permanently live in the isolation just so I could avoid any possible looks of disgust or curiosity because I REFUSE TO TALK ABOUT IT.

It would really be hard with the characters I like because I'm already running away from them on sight, I don't need that to make me even more embarrassed.

Actually now thinking about it....I wanna know how certain characters would react if someone was running away from them on sight because they're too scared to interact because of their crush on the characters. That sounded really weird but hopefully someone gets what I mean. Cause this is me with like....almost all the guy characters in both games lmao. And some girl characters too.

I just have this thought process of like "Oh there's no way someone likes me like that, I'm too weird and loud for most." Which causes me to avoid them because if I have a crush then that means it's gonna be obvious and everyone will know, so I have to prevent that by not being around them at all!

This is mainly for fictional characters and scenarios btw, not real life. In real life I still think this way but I don't avoid people, that's rude.

I've actually had this scenario talk with my friend and it's really funny just how much I would think about avoiding the characters I love.

Like going around the chasm just to avoid having to go to Gandharva Ville to avoid Tighnari LOL. Even thought of a plan of, since that first plan of avoiding the place would fail after testing, us going there at night hoping he's not on night watch and getting a night watch ranger to escort us to the main city.

Or that fact that I would sit at the very back of the theater just so Lyney wouldn't see me in the crowd (would most likely fail) and also happily knowing I got no shot going on stage since it's a 1/168 chance (yes I counted the seats, this excludes the balcony section).

I could probably write a whole self indulgent series of how the reader would avoid certain characters and most likely fail at it. I would want to make it romantic since while I think realistically I don't think the characters would like me back, I am unfortunately a simp so I have this pesky hope of maybe.

Anyway there's your idea dump

[drumlincountry]

3 & 17 for the book asks?

Hiiiiii gem I hope you're keeping well!!! 💞💞💞

3. What were your top five books of the year?

Coming in with the big guns, huh!!!

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells. I'm including all 5 novellas and the 1 full length novel in this because i can't be dealing with fractions and it would eat all the other spaces on the list. 10/10 worldbuilding, 10/10 bastardous snarky and goodhearted main character, 10/10 side characters all described in minimal detail because the mc doesn't care for details.

Superman Smashes the Klan – Gene Luen Yang and Gurihiru (2020) It's a comic book but it made me CRY twice! once for in-text reasons, one for the included essays by the creators of the comic about what inspired them to tell the story. It does exactly what it says on the tin.10/10 also.

Make Bosses Pay: Why We Need Unions – Eve Livingston (2021) nonfiction. it was so ENERGISING. A short read, about modern union orgnising, v relevant for ppl living in Ireland and the UK.

The Blue Castle – L M Montgomery (1926) I've read this book at least 5 times now and I love it every time. it's just about a 1920s woman going apeshit and deciding to live life on her own terms, because she's 29 so why not!

Night Watch – Terry Pratchett. Another reread. I read like 1 terry pratchett book a day for about a week in may. This one is always the most impactful. My notes from the time: "Oh, fascinating, particularly when taken along with the actual revolution and civil war things I’m imbibing – like It Could Happen Here, and Women’s war, two podcasts by Cool Zone Media. The idealist in me can’t help – being an idealist. But yeah this. Fucks. Also: love young vetinari and his aunt."

17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

There is No Antimemetics Division – Qntm (2020). This is a self-published book which was initially published as a series of interconnected SCP short stories. I won't claim it's like, an amazingly well written book. But it is REALLY REALLY GOOD for what it is.

It has cool fun scifi horror, really nailbiting stuff, despite its predictability. You know, all the delicious features of pulp. But ALSO . antimemes is fascinating - the idea of self-containing knowledge. Things that people avoid thinking about or struggle to understand. Like, antimemes exist. Dense texts, taboo subjects etc. and this story is like. what if a horror monster was antimemetic in that way? What if, when you look away, you can't remember that it's there?

And then at the end of the story, (disclaimer, this might be me reading entirely too much into the text) they knock it out of the park with a fascism metaphor! The brutality at the heart of fascism is the antimeme, the dark heart people avoid looking at it. really satisfying conclusion as well.

[buckyownsmylife]

Memory - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where Bucky's a vampire but still manages to develop a breeding kink

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, vampire!AU, creampie, daddy kink, mention of blood because of biting

A/N: this is for my darling cousin @whisperlullaby​‘s challenge, and also my own! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. I hope you guys will enjoy this silly idea of a vampire with a breeding kink 💛 I had a blast writing it! Unbeta’ed because I almost died this week and cannot be bothered to stare at my writing for any longer.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“Okay, let’s play truth or dare!” I groaned as silently as possible at the proposition. One of the downsides of dating someone in college was having to deal with the immaturity of their friends, especially when I was unable to escape yet another invitation for a weekend getaway.

There were only so many encounters a man could refuse before mysterious became annoying, and I knew I was toeing the line, even if my girlfriend never complained.

She understood just how irritating these gatherings could be to me. It would have been easy to imagine if there was a realistic age gap between us, but considering the centuries that separated our birth dates, it was laughable that anyone would entertain the idea of me with a bunch of young adults who only wanted to get laid, smoke some weed and drink their asses off.

Of course, her friends didn’t know my true age, so they only thought I was a little bit irked by their behavior. Y/N knew the truth, and so evidently she tried to get me out of it, but I resisted.

I wanted her to take part in the normal experiences people her age were having. There was already so much that she was missing out on just by being with me - and I wasn’t even referring to the blood that she granted me every night.

I’d accepted to be there with her that evening. I was going to immerse myself in the full experience, if only to learn a bit more about her and those she surrounded herself with.

Her best friend let out a little excited yell when she noticed that we were joining the circle and I forced myself to smile at her. “Alright, let’s do this.” One of the male friends rubbed his hands before reaching for the bottle, making it spin as I frowned. I thought that was a different game, but apparently I was mistaken.

It landed on a girl I had yet to get acquainted with, and so I disconnected myself from the conversation as I watched my beloved laugh and have fun with her friends. It made me feel warm. It made me grateful I had decided to join.

A few more rounds went by without anything of essence actually happening. I was about to excuse myself when the bottle surprisingly stopped while pointing at Y/N.

She gasped as she stared at the man who was responsible for deciding her fate, and I already knew I wouldn’t like what was coming next. But she was smart, so she avoided the dare that would undoubtedly enrage me, leaving her to answer a question that I also would have preferred not to hear.

“So… Y/N…” He began, taking far too much pleasure at the situation, and by the way she rolled her eyes, I knew she was thinking the same.

“Yes, Simon.” He opened his mouth to say something, but instinctively looked my way. I was trying my best not to let any emotion slip through the cracks of my perfectly constructed mask, but whatever it was that he saw seemed to make him change his mind.

He closed his mouth and frowned, for a second deep in thought, before he sighed and finally voiced his question. “Just tell us one of your kinks.”

It sounded like he was trying to get this over with, and although Y/N seemed just as confused, she cleared her throat and gave him an answer.

“Oh, I don’t know… I guess.. Creampie?” Little giggles and comments rose around the circle, but nothing really stuck out and they were quick to motion her to spin the bottle so another person could have a turn.

It was a different reaction that I was expecting, especially considering what everyone did for much tamer answers, but the explanation for the lukewarm crowd was made clear by a groaned comment from Simon to the man beside him.

“This is no fun now that she isn’t single.” A small giggle resonated by my side, and I turned in the direction it came from to find my girlfriend trying to suppress her amusement behind her palm.

“Something funny, little one?” I knew they’d take notice of the pet name, but I honestly couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to care, and the fact that she smiled openly up at me showed me that she didn’t, either.

“Not at all.” She pulled me closer to deposit a quick peck on my lips and I was sure if my heart was still beating, it would have fluttered at the way she looked at me. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course.” Thankfully, the game didn’t last much longer - for us, at least. Somehow, the bottle didn’t land on me once, and Y/N started to yawn, her head resting against my shoulder after the third consecutive “Who would you rather bang?” question.

“I think we’re gonna leave for the night,” she excused us even though I knew she wasn’t really sleepy. She really could be an excellent actress when she wanted to.

We walked up the stairs to where the bedrooms were located, quickly getting in what had been assigned as ours for the weekend. She smiled softly at me as she reached for her backpack, no doubt looking for the one shirt of mine she always slept in, but I had a few things in my mind I wanted to ask her about.

“Why do you like creampies to much?” The words spilled out at me so unusually, considering the silence in the room, it didn’t surprise me that it took her a while to answer. When she did though, I was surprised to find her biting her lip, a look between amused and horny in her eyes when she approached me.

“Dunno.” She shrugged, taking my hands in her and playing with my fingers. I knew it was a way to avoid my intense gaze. “Guess I have a bit of a breeding kink, actually. It just felt too personal to share with those guys.”

The answer took me by surprise as I stared down at her, blinking a couple of times as I made sure to really process what she had said.

“A breeding kink?” I confirmed, and she rolled her eyes in that way I knew she did when she was embarrassed but trying to play it off as annoyed.

“Yeah, you know.” She pulled away from me to sit on the bed, legs dangling off of it almost like a child. “I like the idea of being bred. Even though I’m in no way ready to become a mother,” she added in a serious tone, making sure I understood what she meant.

But I didn’t. I didn’t and I guess it was clear in my face, because she quirked an eyebrow and jumped out of the bed, coming to stand before me once more.

“Why is this so weird to you?” She inquired, head tilted in amusement. “You’re over a century old, I’m sure your expectations regarding sexual relationships were related to impregnation for most of your life.”

And I mean… she wasn’t wrong. But I hadn’t thought about that for so long, I guess it didn’t occur to me that there was an actual term for it these days.

“There’s no way you don’t have a breeding kink.” The affirmation sounded almost like a dare, so my instinct was to fight it, wrap my arms around her torso so I’d keep her close to me, but deny it.

“You know I can’t ‘breed’ anyone anymore, darling.” But she wasn’t giving up. Her fingers softly traced my jawline, eyes sparkling with a dangerous glint as she countered, “Doesn’t mean you can’t like the idea of it.”

Even though I didn’t need the oxygen, I inhaled sharply, suddenly fascinated by her every movement, the way she gently unwrapped herself from my arms to slowly unbutton her simple dress, the one she made it look like a fucking gown.

“Think about it, Buck…” Every inch of skin that became exposed to my eyes still had my mouth watering, desperate to taste her all over.

“Wouldn’t you want to see me round with your child?” The question provoked my imagination, playing with her features as I thought about what she proposed. Her breasts fuller, stomach protuberant, and maybe a little feet rubbing against the skin, something I could kiss.

“See me carry your genes, continue your lineage… Wouldn’t you want that?” Her innocent eyes spelled trouble when she stood before me again, close enough to touch.

And I couldn’t deny that the idea did something to my heart - even though it didn’t beat anymore. Most undeniably, it definitely did something to my cock, which now strained against my pants, the arousal that the image of her impregnated by me provoked bursting as I looked at the creature that I loved in wonder and fascination.

“Are you trying to tempt me, doll?” She bit on her lower lip to stop herself from giggling before I pulled it away from her teeth when I took her in my arms again, naked breasts rubbing against my shirt.

“Is it working?” She breathed out, eyes connected to mine while she tried to gather my feelings about her attempt. I pressed her body closer, making sure she’d feel the hardness in my pants before I even voiced it.

“Very well,” I whispered in her ear, enjoying the way my cold breath awakened goosebumps all over her warm skin. She never complained about the difference in temperature, something that I was profoundly grateful for, since I loved to feel her hot blood pumping underneath my fingertips whenever I trailed my digits over her flesh.

“So tell me,” she pressed, still going for seductive even though she sounded slightly out of breath, her desire evident in the way her pupils had dilated. “Would you like to breed me, James?”

A shiver went down my spine at the question and I closed my eyes for just one second, just to relish in this sensation before I opened them to confess, “You have no idea how much I’d like that.”

My hand easily spread her lower lips, middle finger running between them to test her wetness and finding her soaked, like she always seemed to be for me. The knowledge had me smiling as I lifted my hand to taste her before making quick work of my belt, observing her slowly walking backwards towards the bed as I followed, almost like there was a thread connecting us, keeping us close.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned against my ear as he buried himself inside of me and I clutched at his shoulders, desperate to feel every part of him connected to every part of me.

Only he could get me this way. Chest heaving, mouth open just from the simple act of feeling him stretching me open. It didn’t matter how many times he took me, it still burned the same - and I loved it.

“Tell me, doll,” he panted, hypnotizing eyes connected to mine, unwilling to let my gaze escape his hold. “Tell me you’d want to have my child. You’d look so beautiful with your body changing because of me, wouldn’t you want that?”

I groaned, throwing my head back as James fucked me senseless, his cock ramming against my sweet spot over and over again. He knew no mercy, I knew that. I just never anticipated to have such an overwhelming reaction to a silly little kink I never even thought I’d ever get to explore.

“Answer me, little one.” His fangs came into play then, piercing around the nipple that he sucked, galvanizing me into actually responding, “I would, I would, daddy,” while pulling on his hair without even realizing.

He let go of my breasts to look at me with dark eyes - not because he had come in contact with my blood, oh no. It was clear that this was the reaction to the name that escaped me so easily, waving its way into him until it broke the last bit of his control and left him completely undone, only determined to fuck me.

I watched him lick his lips before he ordered, “tell daddy you want his cum inside of you.” Hearing him acknowledge this other secret kink, refer to himself as it had me delirious, unable to formulate any words to obey him, so I opted to hide my face in the crook of his neck, hoping the feeling of my burning cheeks would satiate him.

What a mistake.

“Oh, so now you’re shy?” He mocked, rubbing his jaw against my cheek as I whined against him. “Want daddy’s cum so much but can’t be a good girl and beg for it?”

I came with a long drawn-out gasp right then, my body twitching underneath his as his cock dragged along my walls once, twice, a third time until it spilled his cum inside of my channel. The act was so hot to me that it had me pulling on his hair, whispers of “I love you, I love you,” tumbling out of my lips.

He silenced me with a kiss, still managing to keep on thrusting until I had to push him away because of my sensitivity.

“Spread your legs for me, little one…” He ordered, brushing his tongue over his lower lip in contemplation. “Let me see the mess I left there.”

I was still a bit nervous about the whole ordeal now that the wave of horniness had left me, but I did eventually spread my legs for him, whimpering as he bit down on his own lip at the sight of his spent dripping from my abused pussy.

“Oh, you look so good like that, darling.” I could barely contain my giddiness as he laid down by my side and pulled me to rest on his chest, pressing a kiss to my temple while he caressed my arm. “But one question remains unanswered.” To my almost sleepy hum, he proceeded, “Why do you like the idea of breeding so much?”

That got me thinking, wiping the tiredness off of my muscles like a bucket of cold water. It felt weird to admit it, but at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to bare my soul to the man I loved, to have him aware of every little thing about me…

So I admitted, “I like the idea of being yours… in this very scary, slightly territorial way.” At his silence, I giggled, hiding my face on his chest as I waited for his response.

“But you are mine,” he reminded me, and even as I rolled my eyes, a silly smile painted my lips, loving that he felt like he needed to tell me that.

“I know I am,” I recognized. “It’s just another way I’d like to be claimed by you. Besides, I can just imagine how well you’d take care of me…”

Silence filled the room as we both got lost in the images of what could never be. Me with a fully-grown belly, walking like a penguin as he held up tiny onesies that looked ridiculous in his huge hands.

My heart ached for what could never be, surely, but I couldn’t really grieve a future I’d never have while I was so happy with the man who wanted to give me one.

“I’ll always take care of you.” He kissed the back of my hand, and even though he knew it wasn’t exactly what I meant, it was just enough. “I’m sorry that I can’t ever give you children.”

The guilt in his tone was almost palpable, and I wanted to do anything in my power to make it disappear. This wasn’t what I intended when I shared my sexual fantasies with him. They were just that - fantasies. I wouldn’t trade my reality for any alternative version the universe could offer me.

“It’s alright, babe,” I assured him, depositing a kiss on his chest, right where his heart would be beating for me if it could. “I think the way you want to claim me is just as territorial… and much more final.”

Bucky held me close, breathing me in - even if he didn’t need to do that to survive - before he asked me the last doubt that still hovered in his mind.

“Aren’t you scared?” And as I laid there in his embrace, feeling loved and cared for, I knew the only acceptable answer that I could give him was, “It’ll be worth it.”

[duskamethyst]

make it right.

a/n: i was on a writing high. i initially hated this so much but ended up with 12 pages long.

word count: 5.1k

genre: mature, smut, nsfw, angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of abortion, pregnancy

pairing: hawks x f!reader

𝅘𝅥𝅮  music rec: the reason by hoobastank  𝅘𝅥𝅮

summary: you told keigo that you’re carrying his child but he didn’t take it well. five years later he shows up in front of your door after being invited by his son and says he wants to fix everything.

you lean down towards the counter as you concentrate on creating pretty swirls of cream on the cake you baked with a piping bag. the dining table is full of food, a feast almost too huge for only two people, but you have a good excuse. it is a special day. your son’s fifth birthday to be exact. 

kids these days can be ruthless and your son doesn’t get along very well with the other kids from his kindergarten. they like picking on others that seem too fragile, too quiet – criteria that fits him well and it doesn’t help with the fact that they know he’s growing up without a father. your child never opened up to you about the constant mocking he faced until one day you overheard him sobbing through his pillow in his own room. it was dark, though the door was still open by an inch to allow a small amount of light to penetrate into the room whenever he slept. he said he wanted to sleep earlier because he was tired but the muffling sounds he tried to conceal betrayed his efforts when you passed by later that night.

it made you angry and disappointed in yourself. you really tried your best to juggle between being a mom and a dad at the same time, keeping an eye on your child and working your ass off to make a living for the two of you. you’d always put up a tough front, never broke down in front of him when you were dead tired from being overworked and the thought of him trying to not make you worry, shattered your heart into pieces. you know that all he deserves is a good life and you constantly blame yourself for not being good enough, mostly angry at your past self for not even knowing how to make good decisions and think things through. 

if only you could turn back time, you would tell yourself to never get involved with a pro hero – to never get involved with someone who feels so responsible for other strangers’ lives but not their own child’s. 

were you being selfish? for not understanding that his work always comes first? he can’t possibly have a family when he has villains out there that need to be put in their right place for their crimes. were you expecting too much from him?

“can’t you… get rid of it?” he muttered. his cold words felt like a sharp blade that just stabbed you in the heart. never once you thought that he would say that. how easy was it for him to ask you to throw out another life like it meant nothing? 

“keigo, you can’t be serious.” you shook your head, your legs were already wobbling and you felt sick to your stomach. this news should be happy for the both of you but unfortunately, you two weren’t on the same page. 

was it your fault? keigo never spoke about having a child together but he always said he’d love to build a family with you someday – he loved you, he would always protect you and be there for you. sure, it was a slip up this time. you always made sure to take proper measures to avoid pregnancy from happening but you were also more than glad to bear this child and you were convinced that keigo would be happy about it as much as you were. he loved you so much, after all. 

“i don’t think…” he stammered, trying to find the right words. “give me some time.”

your lips pursed into a thin line, hands clenching hard and knuckles turning white. think? the uncertainty in his voice was already giving you the obvious answer. he couldn’t even look you in the eyes. he never wanted this.

“save the trouble, keigo.” you spat. “how about i’ll just leave so you don’t even have to think at all?”

keigo finally lifted up his head to look at you with wavering eyes, but he still couldn’t find the words to say, to comfort you. “what are you saying?”

“i’m still going to have this child. even if it means i have to do it alone.” with a sharp breath, you turned around towards the door.

you heard a frustrating sigh coming from your back, “you know i can’t. you know damn well that i have my job as a hero and i can’t look after… after a child!”

“but it’s your child keigo!” you turned around to scream and look at him again, tears already welling in your eyes, threatening to pour out.

“and what difference does that make?!” he yelled back. “in fact, that’s even worse!”

the room was quiet as the both of you just stood there. keigo slowly realizing what just came out of his mouth in the heat of the moment while you just stared at him in disbelief. both were standing stunned and speechless from what he clearly said. that was it, you thought. 

“fuck you.” you cursed under your breath and immediately left his place, not even sparing a look back. 

if he was sorry, he would chase after you. if he didn’t mean it, he would look everywhere for you.

but none of that happened.

you ended up going back to your hometown after that. it was shameful, to finally see your parents again but just to cry on their feet as soon as you saw their faces and telling them that you were carrying an illegitimate child. it was devastating for them initially but thankfully they easily accepted it, welcoming you to stay over at their place with open arms so they could help you throughout your pregnancy until the baby was born and grown. above all, you were still their daughter. living far away, your parents had never met keigo and they were shocked to know that you were having the no.2 pro hero’s baby but also disappointed at how he reacted when you told him the news.

however, what was done is done and you can only manage to move forward by raising the child with your utmost capability. you promised yourself that you’ll protect and raise this child with as much love and care a mother can offer. whatever it takes, even if you’ll have to do it by yourself. 

you ended up living with your parents until your son turned four and decided to live independently, not wanting to burden them any longer. they didn’t want to let you go, the presence of the child brought so much joy in their daily lives. he was a bundle of sunshine and they loved him so much. 

and kyō is just beautiful. 

keigo’s genes manage to overpower your son compared to yours. fluffy but shorter blonde hair, dark and sharp on the inner corner of the eyes and not to forget the red wings on his back. it isn’t as big as keigo’s yet but it still stands out. although he takes on your personality more, every part of him reminds you of keigo and sometimes it feels like a jab to your chest. it hurts to be reminded of the man that hurt you and told you to get rid of the child you were bearing so ruthlessly.

throughout the years, you tried to make peace with the past. at first, it was hard to look at the news and see his face. he was almost everywhere, a lot of stores also sold his merchandise and his face even covered the magazines-- you realized you couldn’t escape him, your past. although he’s in the limelight, the media was still unaware about his private life and you were glad alas the similar features of kyō to the pro hero made some passersby and mothers at the park question you. fortunately, you already came up with a bullshit excuse like “he is such a big fan of hawks and he cosplays him every day… and oh, the wings are fake too.”

of course, strangers weren’t the only ones who inquired about it. even the little child himself could smartly notice his resemblance with the pro hero.

as soon as he first saw hawks on tv, he went on and on about how they looked so much alike. he was beyond fascinated, he could barely understand what the news was talking about at the time but being on the screen was more than enough to make him understand that hawks was an amazing guy. his eyes would twinkle in wonder when the news caught footage of him flying in the air with his red wings spreading graciously. if anything at all, kyō just couldn’t wait to flap his own smaller wings soon. 

then one thing led to another. a question that any curious child would ask their parents about. 

oftentimes kyō would ask you about his dad. why didn’t he have one like the other children he played with at the park and oftentimes you would try to avoid the topic and shrugged it off with a lame joke saying how you were also his dad and how you were powerful to have two bodies in one unlike other people. 

he ended up growing tired of it one day, crying to you and asked if the reason why he didn’t have one was because he didn’t love him – something he heard one of the kids said. it broke you and you were lost for words. you called your parents for support and after much discussion, your mother thought he deserved to at least know the truth and you did just that. 

luckily, he took it surprisingly well. even his little brain can comprehend the job of a top hero, he understood that it was a lot of work and keigo was often busy and far away. it was less to his liking when you made him promise you to not tell anyone about it and he should keep it as a secret because bad guys would chase after him if another single soul would know and his dad did it to protect him. it was a bad lie, but still, you had to do it.

later, kyō realized that his birthday was coming soon. he knew what he had always wanted. he didn’t know if he could have it but maybe… maybe if he tried and wished hard enough, it would come true. 

he sneakily took your phone to look up “hawks'' on your phone, though at first he was only shown results and pictures of the literal bird before smartly adding “pro hero” at the back. with limited comprehension, he eventually managed to find the agency’s website before scrolling further to find the address to the agency and scribbled it down on a piece of paper. 

-

“daddy?!” the bell has been ringing for a few times but you were too concentrated on decorating the birthday cake to even hear it but your son’s small wings flutter in excitement as he runs across the hallway to open the door.

your heart stops for a second. was that the reason why your son was pacing around the living room? you’re not expecting any guests for tonight’s dinner at all, especially the father of your child. 

“hey! i got your letter!” the familiar excited tone of his voice bursts from the door as he speaks. he kneels down eye-level as his son and gives him a big hug. “happy birthday.”

“what letter?” you break into the conversation, arms folded in front of your chest as you lean against the wall with an unamused expression written across your face. 

“i wrote daddy a letter!” your son says proudly, but you can already imagine the horrible squiggly lines on the handwritten letter. 

“and you gave me a picture too. you look exactly like me, am so happy!” keigo chuckles, ruffling the hair of his boy, eliciting little giggles from the other. it’s a beautiful sight and it makes your heart ache a little at the image of what it could’ve been. if only he was fully ready to accept the fact that he was gonna bear a child. if only he knew how to balance between his career and personal life. you could’ve had the most beautiful family you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“honey, can you go to your room for a bit? your daddy and i have to talk.” you say softly, hoping that he won’t take it any other way.

“am i.. in trouble?” kyō turns to you with a frown and puppy eyes – which he knows well that it would always work on you and it’s almost adorable how it’s exactly what keigo would do whenever he makes you annoyed with his antics. it’s just one of his ways to apologize to you. 

you sigh and shake your head, “no. we’re gonna talk about…” you glance elsewhere as you think of an excuse. “your surprise present!” 

“it’s not a surprise anymore if you say it like that, mommy!” the child laughs and scurries to his room as told and the both of you watch him with a smile tugged on your lips. 

you turn back to keigo with a dour expression as soon as your son closes the door to his room, causing him to fidget a bit from his spot. he hasn’t seen it for years, after all. he’s about to pull you into a hug but instead, you quickly turn your heels around towards the kitchen.

“i still have things to do. either you help me with it or leave.”

he quickly takes off his shoes and follows you, taking in the view around the house before he enters the kitchen. the atmosphere is stuffy and tense while you sit on the stool to continue decorating the cake. 

“you can help by setting up the plates. top cabinet.” you break the awkward silence and keigo obliges, he reaches the cabinet to take out the available plates and put them nicely around the table. 

“you made it yourself?” he tries to make a conversation as he glances at you working on the cake. 

“yeah.” you simply reply without taking your eyes off from your work. 

“it’s nice. chocolate?”

“obviously.”

keigo sighs from the underwhelming response, “i know you don’t want me here but –”

“no shit.” you almost slam the table but quickly recompose yourself by taking a deep breath. for the sake of your son, you know you shouldn’t get into an argument right now, at least not today. 

“look, i’ll leave as soon as this is over if that’s what you want.”

you glare at him, “it’s more than what i want right now,” then it’s your turn to sigh. “but i doubt that’s what kyō would want.” 

keigo already knows his name from the letter but his lips etch into a warm smile at the sound of the name you’ve given to the-- his child and a small part of him wishes that he was there in the process of choosing a name for the boy together with you. 

“okay, just for tonight. we’ll pretend like we’re a happy family.” you stand up from the stool after putting the last candle and set the cake in the middle of the table. 

“...and what if we don’t have to?” he blurts out after a brief and quiet moment, immediately catching your attention. he notices the puzzled look on your face and continues, “what if we really start being a happy family from now and onwards?”

you blink once, twice. for a second, you feel a heavy pang in your chest as your brain processes the words that just came out from his mouth. it’s like déjà vu, only this time keigo has certainty in his voice.

the room falls dead silent again as you stare at each other. you’re finding words and about to open your mouth to say something but kyō suddenly interrupts from the corner of the kitchen and both of your attentions quickly turn to him.

“mommy..? i’m hungry.” 

“oh, sweetheart. you’re just in time!” you walk up to kyō to carry him in your arms before bringing him to the dining table. his eyes sparkle at the variety of food spread across the table and his wings flutter in excitement. 

“can you help light up the candles? the lighter is in the drawer.�� you usher to keigo as you show your son his favorite food you made earlier while keigo quickly rummages through the drawer. he lights up each candle as you put down kyō on one of the chairs before he stands on his knees to reach close enough to blow the candles. the both of you excitedly sing happy birthday and clap your hands as he blows off the candles after a brief moment for a wish. 

“what did you wish for?” keigo asks, affectionately patting kyō on the head.

“i wish to be a hero like daddy!” he exclaims, arms and wings spread in enthusiasm. a bittersweet feeling engulfs him-- a part of him is disappointed and ashamed of himself while another part of him is elated and relieved that he’s still looked up upon by his own child. in the corner of his heart, keigo thinks he doesn’t deserve it. kyō is a splitting image of himself (minus the color of his eyes that he takes after you) and it easily brings back visions of him from the past. he wanted to be a hero too, but his father wasn’t someone he could look up to. hence, making endeavor the only man he idolized. 

he realizes he is lucky enough to be the person his son looks up to. he knows that this was what his own younger self would want. a father he can be proud of, a hero at that. keigo wants to make it right with whatever it’ll take.

the night proceeds smoothly, all three of you have fun together like any normal family would and bonding over lost times. keigo is thoughtful (though his choice seems a little bit conceited) enough to give kyō a present; an action figure of himself. unknowingly, the walls that you built around you by the time keigo arrived earlier slowly crumbles and you grow less wary around him as time ticks by. when it’s bedtime for the boy, keigo insists on putting him to bed so he can spend more time with him which you gladly consented to so you can also continue cleaning up the kitchen.

a set of footsteps coming down the stairs can be heard as you’re seated on one of the stools while sipping tea. 

“want some tea?” you offer without turning around to look at the male.

“sure.” he says as he walks up to you. 

you can feel his tall and lean build ghosting you from the back as you pour a cup for him but his hands suddenly reach your shoulders and give them light squeezes. 

“what are you doing?” you ask quizzically, glancing at the hand on your shoulder.

“giving you a massage.” he smiles innocently as he continues pressing on the knot in your stiff shoulders, making you sigh in reflex.

“trying to get on my good side?” you say in a mocking tone.

“hmm, just showing my appreciation to you.” his hands move lower to your spine, your back arches a little as he presses down your aching muscles. 

“you’re five years too late, keigo.” you sneer but welcome his service as you close your eyes and hum in content. it’s not that bad, you assure yourself in your head. 

keigo diligently continues to massage your back as the kitchen now fills with your quiet sighs and whimpers whenever he rubs on the sore spot. without you realizing, he slyly pulls the collar of your baggy shirt down and plants soft kisses on your bare shoulder.

“k-keigo?” you immediately open your eyes and flinch at the sudden touch.

he remains quiet while his hands work up and down your arms gently and his lips move further up to your earlobe, sending tingling sensations down to your core and you can already feel your nipples harden underneath your shirt. 

“relax.” his hot breath fans over your ear as he whispers. your cheeks are already burning red and you’re out of sarcastic remarks as you can only find yourself to indulge into his touches. 

you gasp in surprise when keigo’s hands sneakily move under your shirt and quickly unsnaps your bra. he massages your breasts and kneads them gently before teasing your erect nipple between his fingers. your hands firmly clenches the edge of the island to hold yourself as he nips on the crook of your neck, just gently to carefully not leave a mark. 

“you want more, babybird?” he coos as he realizes that your thighs are pressing against each other. as much as you hate to admit it, the nostalgic pet name tugs on your heartstrings and you find yourself melting after hearing it after years again. 

feeling embarrassed, you quietly nod your head. 

“i can’t hear you.” a teasing tone lingers in his voice. he knows what he’s doing and you hate him for it.

“more, keigo...” you whine. it sounds so innocent and adorable but it absolutely makes his cock twitch. noticing that you’ve been avoiding looking at him the whole time, he uses one of his hands to make you look at him and grins when he catches the red tint spread across your face before he presses his lips onto yours. 

the traces of your ego make you hesitate at first but you’re quick to lose it as he deepens it, as if to send you a silent message of how much he misses you while his tongue intertwines with yours. 

one of his hands remains to massage your mound while the other travels down south to easily part your legs and cups your heated sex. keigo rubs the clit against the fabric of your pants, eliciting breathy moans from your lips between kisses. you pull away and lean back to his body as he slides his hand under your pants, feeling the wet patch that is already staining your underwear. 

“already wet from all of that?” he says playfully, taking out his hand to look at the damp juices as he rubs it between his fingers. 

“says the man that was grinding his cock on my back.” you roll your eyes halfheartedly, missing the faint blush that becomes apparent on his cheeks.

keigo then reaches for the cups in front of you and pushes them aside before lifting you up on the kitchen island, making you turn towards him. he swiftly pulls down your pants along with your underwear, your cunt bare and glistening under the lights for him to see.

his golden irises lock with yours as he kicks the stool to the side and crouches down to spread your thighs apart. he starts to lap off your juices, tongue alternating between your throbbing clit and hole. your elbows help to prop you up as your head hangs back and your eyes close in pure bliss. 

keigo smacks and clenches your thighs to draw your attention to him, “baby, look at me.”

you submissively lift your head to look at him, eyes locking with each other again as he watches you squirm on the tongue flicking your clit and eats you out like a starved man having his first meal after a long day. 

you grab a lock of his blonde hair in one hand, pushing him closer as your legs tremble around his head, feeling the bubbling sensation of your orgasm building up. 

“mmh – gonna cum!” you cry out in ecstasy, instantly forgetting the people next door and your son that’s sound asleep on the upper floor as you chase after your high.

keigo smoothly slides two fingers inside your pussy and your hips begin to grind desperately onto them. he knows you’re close when he feels the walls clenching around him and with another suck on the clit, he quickly gets to tip you over the edge. 

“so good for me.” he coos as he pulls away, licking his fingers clean before carrying your panting body in his arms and walks over to sprawl your body on the couch. he hovers on top of you and kisses you again while his hands work on unzipping and taking off his lower garments to free his throbbing cock. 

he smears the precum by pumping his cock as he watches you down, adoring the look of absolute bliss on your face and half lidded eyes that he longed for over the years. 

“my songbird,” he purrs as he leans down to you and lines his cock with your wet cunt, “you’re so beautiful.”

if you’re already red, the endearing pet name makes you even redder. your gaze avoids his to hide your embarrassment but he only draws it back gently by your chin with his thumb and finger. 

“don’t you miss me?” his brows furrowed as he searches your face. you can only stare back into his eyes – bright irises filled with nothing but genuine curiosity and desolation. 

your lips pull into a thin line as you ponder for a moment, promptly unable to vocalize like earlier. it’s as if you let even one word escape your mouth, it would make you burst into tears instead. of course you missed him. your mind often wondered if he even thought of you at least once. even when you did make peace with the past, you still couldn’t bring yourself to be the one to make the first step. ego is an ugly thing and you were certain that keigo should be the one to look for you even if it was hard for him since you just disappeared out of his life.

noticing the reluctance to give him an answer, he shushes you. “it’s okay.” he kisses you sweetly on your nose. “but let me show how much i’ve missed you.”

he trails open mouthed kisses down your jaw, neck and collarbone as your hands run through his hair and down to his back. a soft whine manages to escape from your mouth when he nibbles on the soft flesh of your neck, instantly marking it red this time. 

his mouth then latches onto your nipple through your shirt, making you squirm beneath him. your hands clenches to the fabric of his shirt when you feel his fingers teasingly dancing between your wet folds and his thumb ghosting over your clit. 

keigo gives you a kiss on the lips again before pulling away, the cushion dips as he props himself on the knees, rubbing his hard cock against your wet slits and smearing it with your juices.

a low hiss slips from his lips as he slowly prods in the tip of his cock and your expression twists into discomfort as you feel him stretch you out more – a familiar mixture of pain and pleasure that you haven’t felt for a while.

keigo waits for you to adjust and as soon as you give him the greenlight, he continues to completely balls deep inside you. 

“babybird, you feel so good.” he grunts as he bucks his hips and slowly starts to move. 

you bite your lower lip hard, enough to draw blood as you try to stifle your moans. keigo leans down to kiss you while your arms find themselves wrapping around his neck. he thrusts harder and faster and your whimpers and whines finally find themselves shamelessly slipping past from your mouth.

“fucking– hah– perfect.” he pants as he pulls away to look at your flustered face, eyes half closed and mouth agape with pleasure. 

you quickly bury your face on the crook of his neck and hold onto him tighter while your legs wrap securely around his waist. keigo moves his thumb on your clit, pressing down and rubbing circles all to entice nothing but tightening the coil down in your core more. 

“keigo, keigo –” you cry as your nails dig the fabric on his back and your toes curl to the intense sensation.

“baby wants to cum?” he growls as he feels your walls clamping around his cock, making him buck his hips even wilder. 

“yesyesyes – oh god, keigo!” your mind turns putty and unable to form any more coherent words, making only his name being the only thing you remember as your eyes close shut while you’re nearing your high. 

“that’s it – baby. cum on my cock.” he encourages and you do just that. your pussy flutters as you finally reach your orgasm but his sporadic thrusts doesn’t stop until it starts to falter and his wings tremble.

“fuck. i’m gonna fill you up.” he grits through his teeth and his cock twitches before his wings spread wider as he releases his warm cum inside you. 

the both of your bodies stay against each other, chests heaving for air before he briefly pulls out his cock and lays on top of your chest. 

“yes.” your voice suddenly croaks, breaking the almost silent air in the room if not for the sound of yours and his breathing.

keigo lifts up his head to look at you confusingly before a lopsided smile curls on his lips when he hears you utter the next few words.

“yes. i missed you and i don’t want to pretend anymore.” you suddenly feel overwhelmed and tears start to well in your eyes. a flash of panic crosses his face and he pulls you closer into his embrace, hoping to calm you down as you sniffle on his chest. 

“shh, baby. i’m sorry. i know it’s too late and i was so fucking stupid but i’ll – ”

“i want to live as a happy family with you, keigo.” you cut him off, sobbing through his shirt. he pulls away at once to look at you, unable to believe what he just heard through the choking sob but it still makes even him want to cry. 

“babybird, i – ” he’s completely tongue-tied. at this point he can only manage to lean down to be close to you again. he peppers kisses all over your face, saying how thankful and happy he is.

“i love you, my little bird. i won’t fuck up this time, i promise.” he whispers, finally regaining his composure.

that night, keigo could barely sleep a wink. so many thoughts are running through his head. he glances at you sleeping peacefully next to him on the bed and he already pictures how it is to be waking up to see your face every morning. he also hopes that kyō doesn’t know how to fly yet so he could teach him how to use his wings. oh, he’ll also get to find an excuse to buy more buckets of chickens once you three will start living together. 

he can already imagine how the headlines will be bombarded about him having a family and he sighs at the thought, but he hopes that his publicist is ready for a hell lot of work.

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[madegeeky]

So, I've been thinking a lot about Squid Game and whether or not I'd recommend it to people. And the answer I've come to is: no, I would not recommend it because of the ending.

Mr. Geeky says that I put a lot of emphasis on the ending and that I sometimes put it on a pedestal. And I did think about it and whether that was true or not. But I have other things I still love that have really dumb endings like The Autopsy of Jane Doe, which has an aboslutely brilliant and subtle horror for the first 3/4 and then just fails completely at the end. What I realized thinking about this though, is that whether or not an ending ruins a piece of media for me is entirely contigent on if the ending undermines everything that came before it.

And, for me, the ending of Squid Games absolutey undermines what I see as a main thesis for the entire show. And it's fucking frustrating because everything before that is legimately so good.

SO MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE END BELOW THE CUT READ MORE AND JUST A WALL OF TEXT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

This entire show, the entire premise of it, is about the connections that human make with one another. About reaching out to other people had having them reach back. Connecting with people you know will know will die later. Connecting with people who you know are going to die soon. Connecting with people who don't want a connection. Connecting with people who desperately do.

Gi-hun, our main character, spends the first episode of the show abusing his connections. He steals his mother's money. He uses the fact that he wants to buy a gift for his daughter as an excuse to go and bet on horse racing with that money. Later his uses his connection with his daughter's mother to try to get money (granted, it's to pay for his mother's medical bills but still). The connections are there and they do mean something to him but largely in the way that they affect him.

And then he goes to the Game to try to win some money and everything changes. He finds an old friend and reconnects with him. He connects with an old man who has a brain tumor. He almost dies in the first game except another contestant saves him, creating a connection that they will have until the other's death. Later on he attempts to connect with a young female contestant, is rebuffed, but doesn't stop reaching out until she lets a tenuous connection form, and he keeps that connection until she dies. Gi-hun makes those connections despite everyone dying around him, despite the fact that these connections are only going to bring him pain in the end, because he is a human being and it is literally in our genes to want to be with each other. It's just that, for the first time, he's not being selfish.

He has two foils throughout the game, his friend and a gangster. Both the friend and the gangster make connections but they're only for show. The gangster is honest in the fact that the connections are only surface level, that as soon as someone is no longer useful he will cut them out. But the friend is more insidious. He closes himself off emotionally but doesn't really let people know. Then, when push comes to shove, he's more than willing to backstab them. He is cold and thoughtful in destroying the people around him and I have very rarely hated people as much as I hated him. (Especially the marble episode, fuck him so hard.)

But probably the most important connection that Gi-hun makes is the one with an old man he first meets, a man who is dying from a brain tumor. The man is old and sick and Gi-hun will not leave him behind. He consitently puts himself in danger, at risk of dying, because he refuses to let the man die. His does this over and over again. Until the marble episode. Where either he dies or the old man does. This is only after they have affirmed that they will look out for each other, that they will be gganbu, friends who are close enough to lend marbles when needed; before they are old that only people who have all the marbles in the pair will live. It is viscerally horribly painful for him, to be up against this man that he has worked so hard to keep alive and who he cares for so deeply. (Huge, huge props to the actor, he does an amazing job.) And, in the end, he does end up lying to the old man to win but it is only after the old man starts to lose himself, after the brain tumor shows that it is beginning to very much destroy him, that he finally gives in. It is selfish, yes, but it's hard to blame him when he has a mother and a daughter to go back and take care of him and the old man is moving quickly toward death. It's hard to do anything but have your heart break for him as you watch him slowly die a bit as he makes choice after choice that will end this old man's life. It is an amazing, affecting episode.

He makes and reaffirms the connections he makes until the very end of the game. And when I say end, I mean end. It's down to him and his old friend and he ends up incapaciting his friend in a way that means he will win. All he has to do is go and touch a circle and then his friend will be shot and he will get oodles of money. However, there are very few rules to the Game in total but one of those rules is that, at any point, a contestent may call for an end to the games and if the majority agree, then everyone left can walk away but no one gets the money. Gi-hun stops, right at the finish line, and calls for an end to the game, tells his friend to agree and then they can both walk out. His friend refuses to, begs Gi-hun to look after his mother, and then shoots himself.

Gi-hun makes it out. He wins. But when he gets back he finds his mother dead and his daughter in America. He has no connections, he is broken, and the tenuous connections he does have left he ignores. He refuses to even touch the money and instead lets himself drift through life. Until he gets a note asking "my gganbu" to come to an empty floor on a tall building where he finds the old man, lying in a hospital bed, dying, but at the moment very much alive.

It turns out that the old man is one of the ones who actually started the Game. That he started it because he had so much money that there was nothing that made him happy or entertained him anymore. And he'd even gotten bored with watching the Game which is why he decided to join it. But the fascinating thing, the meaningful thing, is that at the end of his life, when he could be doing anything his last moments alive, what he does is reach for the connection he made with Gi-hun. He finds nothing meaningful in life, so he claims, but here he is, talking with Gi-hun, spending his last moments with him.

But one connection does not make a kind or caring person. He points out that humans are selfish and horrible and points to a person passed out on the sidewalk as it starts to snow, getting colder and colder, and makes a bet with Gi-hun that no one will help them. They will all just walk past. And here is where it utterfly fails at this huge important theme, here is where the series become unsalvageable for me.

Because Gi-hun just sits there. He just sits there, also betting on this person's life, hoping that a connection between a stranger and this person passed out on the sidewalk will happen and the person will be saved. He just accepts the bet. But the thing is, there's nothing stopping him from being the one to save this person. There's nothing stopping him from running out there or calling an ambulance or the police. There's nothing stopping him and yet he doesn't go.

Gi-hun, the man who made connection after connection with strangers despite the fact that all he was doing was hurting himself, the man who learned that connections are so important, the man who broke himself inside when he thought he killed the old man. This man, the man who chose at the very end his connection with others over a huge cash prize, this man just sits there and hopes that someone will come along and save this person in the cold so that he can win a bet.

And the rest of the last episode continues in this vein of him not making any connections at all. He keeps his promise to the young woman and goes and gets her brother out of the orphanage. He takes the kid to his old friends' mom and gives her cash so she can take care of herself and the boy. We see him getting ready to board a plane to go see his daughter but then choosing not to go because his need to stop the Game is more important than his connection with his daughter. The connections he has don't matter in the end, only stopping the Game.

Everything that this show has done with connections, every beautiful moment in all the meaningful connections that were made throughout this series, turn out to be ultimately pointless. And I don't think that this has reached the point of me being actually angry at the show for this ending, as I have at a couple other things, but it's close. It's very close. Because despite the blood and the horror and pain and the cruelty that is in the series, it's a beautiful series until the end. It's meaningful and poetic. But the ending kills that. The ending says that connections aren't actually important and it's not about learning how important it is to connect to other human beings, how we are all connected in some way or another. The ending says that all that matters is harnessing your anger to destroy the people who are doing horrible things. And at its core that's not a bad idea. But it ignores everying that comes before hand. Having angery being the inciting feeling for change feels antithetical to everything that the series did beforehand and it makes it feel all meaningless.

So, yeah, I can't recommend Squid Game. And it makes me legimately sad that I can't.

[senacal]

Dr. Charles Xavier (Pt. 1)

Request: Requested by @saltysebastianstan

Pairing: Charles Xavier x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Prompt: Could you please do a Charles Xavier x female reader, where Charles has been asked to do a lecture about mutation at your non-mutant university, and let’s say he takes a liking to you due to your knowledge/interest rather than the other girls.

OH MY GOD, YOU COULD TURN THIS INTO A SERIES... IMAGINE

Warnings: None that I come to mind.

Author’s note: I am going to do my very best to fulfill this request because I love it, and I love Charles, and this is the first Charles Xavier’s request I have had, so I hope I do well. I have been thinking of this all week, and I did some research about a mutation to accurately portray a sort of understanding about the subject lol Xx.

Requests are open! 

(Gif not mine)

For a whole week, (Y/N)’s nerves were on fire. She knew she was excited, why wouldn’t she be when her dreams were about to come true? But she didn’t understand why she was so nervous. The whole week she couldn’t sit still. (Y/N) was continually shaking her leg, fiddling with whatever was in her hands, or drumming her fingers. (Y/N) just wanted to make sure that she had everything she needed before the most important day of her life happened. What day would that be? Well, her university, (Uni of your choice), had recently booked Dr. Charles Xavier, the current expert on Mutations to give a lecture, and (Y/N) was excited because she had a keen interest on the field. 

(Y/N) knew there were people out there with unique abilities, sure she wasn’t one of those people, but it was okay because she didn’t think she’d be able to handle the responsibility and stress of continually having to hide who she was. The reason she knew about these unique individuals was that she had met a mutant when she was a young girl. Instead of being afraid, she was intrigued. It was fascinating seeing the way the mutant maneuvered to keep themselves hidden from prying eyes, though it didn’t seem to work since (Y/N) caught sight of them. Regardless, ever since her encounter with that mutant, she had been obsessed with learning more about them. 

With her limited access to mutant knowledge, she was only able to find a few things out about their biology. It wasn’t too different from human biology, but the added X-Gene made a mutant, a mutant. So it was a dream come true when she learned that Dr. Charles Xavier would be giving a lecture about mutations. Perhaps her excitement was transferring into anxiety. Dr. Xavier, as the guest lecturer, was possibly her only shot at comprehending her preferred subject to the full extent. Perhaps it was the fear that she would never be able to turn her major into an actual career. Her family was always telling her to change her field of study to the point that (Y/N) had told them a little white lie. She may have added a minor in medicine, but she didn’t give up her interest in mutation. It was enough to appease her family, and she continued to learn about mutation under their noses. It was a win-win situation. 

So here she sat in the lecture hall, awaiting Dr. Xavier’s arrival. She was tapping her pen against her notebook, absentmindedly looking around the room. She made sure to get a good seat where she could both see and hear him. She also made sure she had extra pens in case her current one crapped out on her. 

The room was already starting to fill with a big crowd, and the lecture wasn’t due to begin for ten minutes. (Y/N) went from tapping her pen to shaking her leg. She bit the tip of the pen and glanced at the people around her. They were talking animatedly about their daily lives, who was screwing who, who was a bitch, or who was a total hottie. (Y/N) sometimes found herself wanting to fit in among them, but then again, most of these girls were sorority sisters who only cared about partying. Don’t get her wrong, they were beautiful girls, and they all had their strengths, but they were rather dense when it came to their social lives. 

(Y/N) huffed out a small breath as she looked down at her notebook. There were various pages filled with notes of her own, but she was opened to a blank page so she could compare her notes to the brilliant mind of Charles Xavier. (Y/N) dated the page at the top right corner to pass a fraction of the time. 

“Excuse me, may I have your attention please?” 

(Y/N) looked up to the podium to see the Dean calling everyone’s attention. She glanced at the clock to see that the lecture would begin soon. (Y/N) inhaled anxiously and exhaled softly. She faced the front, eager for the start of the speech. 

“Wonderful, wow, I wasn’t expecting such a big turn out,” The Dean spoke with a slight chuckle. “Well, as you all know, Dr. Charles Xavier will be joining us shortly to inform us all on Mutations. As usual, be respectful, no talking unless addressed, and don’t hesitate to ask questions.” The Dean looked off the side of the stage, “Very well, everybody, welcome Dr. Xavier.”

The crowd clapped as none other than Charles Xavier walked on stage. He had a broad smile plastered on his lips, and he waved to the masses.

“Wow, when Dr. Gregory said a big turn out, I believe he was downplaying it just a little. Welcome, thank you all for joining me today,” Charles cleared his throat, “Now, I know many of you are probably wondering why I’ve taken an interest in such a broad subject, mutations can be anything. From the color of your eyes to the dimples in your cheeks. And, of course, physical modifications,” Charles’ gaze scanned the crowds, “The answer to that is simple. I find it fascinating,” He smiled.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, ‘That makes two of us.’

Throughout the lecture, (Y/N) noticed that Charles was looking around the room as if he was looking for someone. It was a possibility that he was only surveying the crowd, but it was almost too constant for that. He had to be looking for someone, but who? (Y/N) shrugged off the thought and instead chose to focus on his words.

“Of course, this leads us to the homo superior, distinguished from their possession of the X-Gene. Now, this gene, placed on the twenty-third chromosome in a person’s DNA, allows for the greatest mutation experienced in reality.” 

(Y/N) scratched down notes as quickly as she could, ‘If that’s the case, would that make the father a deciding factor for its inheritance or the mother?’

“Despite the thought of the mother carrying the child with an X-Gene, the X-gene is transferred from the father. It’s almost like the father is the deciding factor in both sex and mutant status,” Charles spoke as if he heard (Y/N)’s question, which was ridiculous unless he did hear her thoughts. 

Once the lecture was over, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel accomplished. She had learned a lot more that day than any other. As a bonus, (Y/N)’s questions seemed to be answered even though she hadn’t asked any out loud. It was the best day of her life, just as she had predicted. (Y/N) stayed in her seat, scanning the notes she jotted down; she made small annotations next to the one’s that she would cross-reference with her own. Absorbed in her mind, (Y/N) didn’t notice the approaching figure or the lingering girls next to her.

‘Now that I’ve distinguished that the father is the deciding factor in passing on the X-Gene, perhaps it’d be easier to determine their birth rate. I don’t believe pregnant mutants have a reliable doctor to ease them through their pregnancy.’ (Y/N) bit the tip of her pen, ‘I think I know what I want to practice now.’ She couldn’t help but feel giddy. It turned out her added major in medicine wouldn’t be a waste after all. She’d learn all she could about practicing medicine and mutants so she could help bring them into the world. 

“Dr. Xavier! You’re British, right?” 

(Y/N) looked up from her notes and noticed the blonde girl sitting next to her became engaged in a dull conversation with Charles. She couldn’t help but raise her brows at the poor attempt at flirting. It was pretty apparent that he was British, what with the accent and all. 

“Uh, yes, I am,” Charles glanced in (Y/N)’s direction as if he were hoping she’d save him from the conversation.

“That’s so cool, I’ve always wanted to go to England, but then I thought Paris would be a better destination, you know?” The blonde girl shrugged, “Have you been to Paris?”

“I have actually. I’ve given plenty of lectures in the city quite a few times. How did you find the lecture? Did you enjoy it?” Charles asked in the hope of engaging in a conversation about his work.

“Oh, I got lost after you mentioned something about the mRNA or whatever, but I liked hearing you talk.” 

(Y/N) laughed to herself, ‘At least she admitted it.’

‘Indeed, but I’d much rather have a competent conversation about my lecture rather than the expenses of Paris.’

(Y/N) frowned and looked up when she heard Charles’ voice in her head. ‘What the fuck?’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your mind, but I don’t think I can continue to converse with this poor girl.’ 

(Y/N) shook her head, her eyes wide. “Dr. Xavier?”

Charles looked at her, relief evident in his expression, “Yes, Ms…”

“(Your Full Name), I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

“Of course! I’d be happy to answer any questions you have.” Charles politely excused himself from the girl with whom he’d been conversing. 

(Y/N) packed her notes and utensils, “So, you’re a telepath?”

Charles shrugged as if to say ‘guilty.’ 

“So, I have to ask, your lecture, were you basing your responses from the questions I was thinking?” (Y/N) wondered. 

“Partly, yes. It was a first that someone’s questions were loud enough for me to hear without meaning to,” Charles shoved his hands in his pockets, “I was pleasantly surprised, of course, even more now that I’ve placed a beautiful face to the beautiful voice.”

(Y?N) nodded, “Does that line work at all?” She stood from her seat so that she could look at him without tilting her head too much. 

“I beg your pardon?” Charles caught off guard, shifted where he stood. 

(Y/N) huffed an amused breath, “I appreciate the compliment, Professor Xavier, but I’m only interested in what you have to say about mutants and mutation.”

“Why is that?” Charles asked.

“Just like you said, it’s fascinating.” (Y/N) winked at him, “now that I’ve saved you from your conversation, I’ll be on my way. I’ve got a class in an hour.” (Y/N) waved and left Charles, where he stood. 

“Charles, did she just brush you off?” Raven asked from behind him. 

“I… I think so.” Instead of being offended, Charles bored a smile.

“I have to get her number because that was the best thing I have seen all week,” Raven boasted.

Charles rolled his eyes, “Oh, shut it, Raven.”

“C’mon, you can’t tell me that you don’t want her number either,” Raven stepped next to Charles and rested her arm on his shoulder.

“Of course I do. If you had heard the questions (Y/N) was asking, you’d be just as intrigued.” Charles brushed off Raven’s arm, “Let’s go now; I’m ready to head home.”

Raven raised her brows, “What, no parties?”

“No, I’m not really in the mood.” Charles shrugged.

“Wow, I have to mark this day down for the history books. Charles Xavier doesn’t want to go to a college party!” Raven clutched her heart, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Charles rolled his eyes. He walked away from her, intending to go to his car.

“Charles, just one party, please?” Raven begged as she skipped to catch up with him.

“What for? You never want to go to parties.” Charles scoffed.

“Because, I want to get drunk,” Raven grinned.

“That makes the two of us,” He conceded, “Fine. We’ll go to a party, but then we are going home.”

“Deal,” Raven beamed. She just hoped that girl would be there and knowing Charles; he was thinking the same thing.

[dameferre]

can we see a snippet from the "penpals!" courferre one :0

of course! i will warn you this will. most likely never see the light of day BUT it’s based off of ‘the year of secret assignments’ by jaclyn moriarty, a... kind of ridiculous book i bought at a charity shop at like. age 10? or something

basically these three sets of teenagers are assigned pen pals at a neighboring school, and hijinks ensue, with one set of penpals giving each other secret assignments (hence the title), the other set of penpals being a girl who writes to a guy who uses a fake name (that plotline ends horribly, it would not have done so in my fic lmao)

one finally one set of penpals (a boy and a girl) decide to start having practice dates, so the guy can hone his skills and ask out a girl he likes, and the girl can critique his form, and... i mean i think we all know how this goes.

anyway, it’s half in letter format, half actual writing the story. here’s a snip! (under the cut because i. couldn’t help myself)

Official Assessment of the Second Meeting By Chance executed by The Lord of Flowers, Combeferre, henceforth referred to as the Subject, as reviewed by Courfeyrac the Ravishing, henceforth referred to as The Operative.

NOTES

When the Operative (and Guest) approached, the Subject smiled very nicely. It was a sort of surprised, warm smile that lit up his face. Did the Subject practice his ‘oh I was hoping to see you and I’m so glad I have’ smile in the mirror?

The Subject did a very good job of consoling the Guest, and as it turns out, the Subject’s height is not as offensive as previously thought, as he holds an umbrella perfectly.

The Subject was much more relaxed this time, and funny, and his hair fluffed a little in the humidity which was adorable. He had a great way of explaining things to the Operative without being patronising, and teased admirably. The Operative spent a good 80% of the walk laughing, but upon writing report can’t remember a specific instance of hilarity. The Subject should have more memorable jokes next time.

Overall, great work Combeferre. You’ll have Feuilly falling over himself to get to you in no time.

Yours,

Courfeyrac the Ravishing

--

Courfeyrac,

You seem to be losing your touch; that last review lacked the mildly insulting bluntness I’ve grown so accustomed to. Does this mean we’re becoming friends?

Anyway, I’m now, as you would say, ‘balls-deep in tech week’ and halfway through my descent into the deepest pit of hell. The entire production is an original script written by a friend of mine, named Jehan Prouvaire, who decided to rewrite the final scene this weekend. They’re my friend, have been for years, but even I wanted to murder them slowly. The cast is hard at work trying to learn the scene, while I had to stay late last night redoing all the cues.

The worst part of it is, the new ending is fucking fantastic, so we can’t even stay mad at them.

It’s exhausting. Literally exhausting; I got three hours of sleep last night.

Anyway, I’m writing this as a way of avoiding calculus homework. Not that I wouldn’t write to you if I didn’t have calculus homework, but it is harder to just ramble on about my life now that we’ve met in person. I don’t think I ever would have told you about Feuilly if we had met before we started writing. There was something in the anonymity that made it easier, like writing into a diary. I hope you don’t take this as an insult- what I mean to say is that now that I know you, I want you to like me. And by extension, I want you to know a lot less about exactly how lame I am.

Anyway, I wanted to say I won’t be able to make a meeting by chance this week, though I know telling you that ruins some of the fun. If I’m around next week, which is really looking less and less likely every time an actor misplaces a prop or mic pack and I am forced, once again, to weigh the pros and cons of murder, I’d be happy to accidentally run into you on my way home from school.

Side note- Avi(my brother) comes home next week, which lines up nicely with Mom’s birthday and means he’ll be able to see the show. It’ll be nice to have him back. I think you’d like him; he’s the attractive one in the family, and the extrovert. He’s also a mechanical engineer who medal-ed in track when he was my age. Basically, he got all the good genes, but he’s too nice to admit it.

Anyway, calculus beckons.

See you on the other side, Combeferre

p.s. Only you would practice a smile. Mine was genuine, I swear.

--

My Dearest Combeferre,

FIRST DAY OF PRACTICE STARTS TOMORROW HELL YEAH

I mean, yes, technically the other guys on my team have been practicing for two weeks but I have sadly been out of commission. BUT NOT ANYMORE BABY THE BITCH IS BACK

This will help distract me from the pain and yearning as I wait a whole week to see you again. I’ll be wistfully wandering the moors before Saturday, mark my words.

I’m also fascinated by the idea of a brother who’s you, but more attractive. Does it hurt to look at him directly? Do strangers fall in love on the spot? Is he officially considered a menace to society because he’s caused traffic accidents and ruined weddings by walking past at the wrong moment?

Someone should put a stop to him before things get out of control! No man should wield such power.

The idea that you, of gorgeous cheekbones, perfect hair, jawline, and eyes and face in general, notorious multi-tasker, valedictorian and walking encyclopedia, not to mention polyglot, could think someone else got the good genes means either you are humble to the point of actively lying to yourself or your brother is a minor deity.

Courfeyrac, I can hear you saying, flattery really isn’t necessary.

But it is! Enjolras, who I’ve mentioned before and is my best friend in the whole world, is gorgeous to the point of being inconvenient to look at. I’m a notorious flirt, I know this, and I’m good at it, but we’re not even in the same league when it comes to making people question their sexualities. He walks into a room and you can see half the people inside mentally decide they’re bi-curious. He’s also a raving lunatic and antagonistic asshole, which he openly accepts and takes pride in, but try to tell him he’s attractive and he looks at you like you’ve just suggested he’s got wings or a tail. So what I’m trying to say, I think, is that I’m used to people not realising how good looking they are. And bludgeoning them with compliments is my way of dealing with this.

Anyway. Getting sidetracked.

I’m flattered you use me as a method of procrastination! I’m gonna make myself a button that says ‘more interesting than calculus’ and wear it with pride. Also, is writing to pen pals not mandatory at the Academy? We’re given a half hour block during the study period. When we first started, Enjolras said the whole thing was “infantile and outdated and a waste of time”, but at this very moment he is on page six (6) of his latest aggressive correspondence to his mystery R, even though I saw what R sent him last time and it was, I shit you not, an envelope that was empty except for a tiny (approx. 3 centimeters long) rubber chicken. For context, the one before was a thorough analysis of wage inequality written entirely in pig latin.

I hope one day I meet this person, even if immediately afterwards they steal my kidney or turn me into a newt or whatever minor trickster gods do these days to pass the time when they’re not torturing my best friend.

Anyway, gotta go, stay sane, don’t kill anyone unless you really have to, and if so lemme know and I’ll help you get rid of the body. I know a guy.

Courfeyrac

p.s. I already like you, idiot.

[thran-duils]

Performance Art

Title: Performance Art Summary:  Fem!Reader x Ransom Drysdale. The reader is married to Ransom; a picture of their life and flashback to when they met. If she had been here by her own choice and her own choice alone, things may be better for her. Ransom is devious though and is able to tangle her into his web. Words: 4,482 Author’s Note: I would tag it dark!Ransom, but tbh, he is the perfect character to be writing for this type of thing. Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Dub-con, dub-con smut, body shaming, coercion, emotional abuse, loveless relationship

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You caught a reflection of yourself in the window. A tight deep blue dress – Ransom’s favorite color of course – practically painted on your curves. It was the first time you had worn heels this high in almost a year -- the pregnancy causing too much swelling in your feet. The silver straps of them wove around your foot, a band around your ankle. You had thought humorlessly to yourself earlier it was like you were willingly putting on shackles –

“Y/N?”

You blinked, your attention zoning back into the dining table.

Ransom’s aunt Joni was looking at you across the table, a wide smile on her face. She smiled even wider if that was possible, “There you are. Looks like you were on, like, Mars or something.” A few light laughs shared at your expense echoed around hers. “I said, you look amazing. How did you do it?”

You snuck a quick look down at yourself. Right. Your weight. Post pregnancy. Of course that was an appropriate topic of conversation at the Drysdale dinner table. Everything was about appearance.

“Well—”

“Luckily, Y/N has got great genes,” Ransom cut in from beside you. You closed your mouth, gaze turned towards him. You had taken too long to respond for his liking, once again. “Plus, she is really motivated in the gym. Not to mention, a tuck does a lot of wonders.”

You almost visibly blanched. Almost. You were good at hiding your emotions now.

Joni let out a sharp, shrill laugh. Waving her hand at you, she said, “I knew you weren’t perfect! There was no way. Aw, Y/N, nothing to be ashamed of. I had it done too. Couldn’t stand to look at myself after Meg. She wreaked ab-so-lute havoc. Still does. Luckily not on my body though now, so it’s easier to deal with.”

“Thanks, mom,” Meg muttered, throwing her a disdainful look.

“I didn’t wait long either. They told me to wait six months,” Joni said, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “I just couldn’t.”

“Same,” Donna chimed in from down the table. Joni gave her a nod of solidarity.

“Doctor said if she was having the surgery, it should wait until after breastfeeding,” Ransom said for you. “Well, that’s why the baby is on formula.”

He tossed you a quick smirk, cutting into his steak. You watched the red seep from the flesh of it onto the plate, trying to disassociate from him divulging things that should be secret.

“And that’s perfectly fine,” Joni said firmly. “You know, I don’t care what some people say, formula is just as good for the baby as breastmilk. People should trust science more.” You heard a small snort from down the table and did not even have to look to know who it emanated from.

“Of course you would disagree with something regarding science,” Meg quipped at Jacob.

“When it’s filled with mass media lies –”

“Alright,” Donna said cutting into the conversation uncomfortably. Luckily, Walt had left the room to go to the bathroom; he no doubt would have encouraged Jacob’s tirade. Tenseness quickly melted away to charm, “Anyway, Y/N. You do look lovely. And the baby is just beautiful.”

The baby. Yes. The baby being cradled by Fran in another room currently instead of you. Away from the table in case he cried and disrupted dinner. He was beautiful for the aesthetic but when it came to dinner – or any other event Ransom deemed took precedence to your child’s presence -- his preciousness only extended into the collective patience so far.

“Yes, he is sure is a little bundle of joy,” Richard announced, looking proud. Proud of his new grandson and continuing his family line.

A perfectly crafted, artificial smile. “Yes. He is.”

<> <> <>

…TWO AND A HALF YEARS EARLIER

“What the absolute SHIT!”

A shout rang over the water of your shower. You stalled, straining to hear if there was anything else, trying to figure out what was going on.

“What the hell! Who the hell set my alarm to basically blow my goddamn fucking eardrums?”

Shit.

You rinsed your hair quickly, cursing the fact your refreshing shower was being cut short. You had over indulged on the vodka last night and the cool water was like heaven. And now you were going to have to deal with this.

Wrapping your towel around yourself, you continued to hear a loud conversation continuing about who had decided to try to blow someone’s eardrum and not to mention, wake them at an ungodly hour.

It was nine in the morning.

You left the bathroom quickly, walking over to the railing to look down the staircase to the ground-floor landing. You leaned against the oak, peering down at the looming figure over your roommate, Malcolm.

“Look, Ransom, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. We were all drinking. Just go back to bed, man.”

The other guy, Ransom, scoffed loudly. “Go back to bed? Malcolm, my ear is still ringing like a motherfucker!”

Malcolm threw his hands out, “Then do you want breakfast? Alyssa has it cooking.”

Ransom exhaled loudly, annoyance still evident. “Whatever,” he muttered, rubbing his ear, and turned away from Malcolm.

Malcolm all but rolled his eyes before saying, “Well, when you are hungry, it’s in the kitchen. I bet it would really help with the hangover.”

He turned and walked off.

Ransom looked after him before shaking his head and making to go back down the hall to the guest room where he had been sleeping.

Something was bubbling in your chest to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted.

Ransom’s eyes were on you in a moment a floor above him, leaning over the railing in only your towel. Now that he was looking at you and you had drawn attention to yourself, you were quickly losing whatever resolve had forced its way out of you.

“I… I think it was me?” you said uncertainly. “I mean, with your alarm. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had turned it up that loudly.”

He was burning a hole through you with the way he was staring at you. The seconds stretched into miles, just waiting for him to say something.

“You should keep your hands off my shit.”

The words stung. You were not sure what you had expected but maybe with an apology, you thought you would quell his frustration even a little bit. Apparently, that was not the case.

Ransom tore his gaze away from you and stormed off down the hallway leaving you gripping the bannister nervously.

<> <> <>

You would have gotten over the exchange if only you had not run into him a few days later. You were attending a business convention, trying to get a leg up in the industry; you were close to graduating. There were a lot of big names there and you had been drawn to Linda Drysdale, who had taken an immediate liking, you believed, to you. She was all charm and compliments, but they were constructive compliments, not merely for flattery. She claimed to be self-made -- you noted to yourself to investigate that later – and that was encouraging for you.

“Ah, did not expect to see you here,” She said over your shoulder.

You turned your head and your heart dropped into your stomach recognizing him. Ransom. He was dressed nicer now; hair slicked back, donning a dark grey cashmere sweater and cream trousers.

Turning away quickly, heart beginning to pound, you hoped he had not recognized you.

“Seems I can’t get away from you.”

No such luck.

Linda looked at you and then back at Ransom. “You two know each other?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘know’. I don’t even know her name. She just lives with my friend.”

“Oh. Hmm. That is an odd coincidence then,” Linda said. “Well, her name is Y/N and she is about to graduate – with honors as her esteemed mentor happened to mention to me and she had neglected to herself,” she gave you a slight wink. She had already teased you about being too modest about your accomplishments earlier in your conversation. It was only because Dr. Ewiler – and old friend of hers – had walked by and joined the conversation briefly and spoke you up that she knew about your grades. “With majors in Entrepreneurship and Accounting.”

Ransom peered down his nose at you, still not sitting down in one of the chairs. “Fascinating,” he said flatly.

Red came to your cheeks at his impertinent demeanor and Linda noticed.

Linda scoffed, looking embarrassed for a moment before recovering. She scolded, “Hugh Ransom, Jesus. Be polite.” To you, she said, “Please excuse, my son. I thought I raised him better.”

Son? You almost groaned. You did not miss him rolling his eyes at his mother’s comment.

“Sorry,” he told you in a tone of voice that relayed no remorse at all. “Y/N. Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” you said in an even tone, feigning some level of sincerity despite wanting him to just leave. But if he was her son… “I hope your hearing is back to normal despite my clumsy behavior. I am still apologetic about that.”

You were trying to mend that bridge with him; you did not want it to possibly ruin whatever relationship you were currently starting with his mother. You wanted – no, you needed – to have her as a connection.

Yet, you could not quite pinpoint the emotion – miffed? Amused? – that was behind his small, closed lipped smile at your apology. His smile did not reach his eyes, that was clear enough.

“It’s fine,” he responded.

“Your hearing…?” Linda asked.

Turning back to look at her, you gave a little nervous laugh, thinking of a cutesy way you could tell the story. You began to explain but Ransom cut you off.

“I had a little too much to drink and passed out. Y/N tried to help me out by making sure I got up at a decent hour but somehow turned the volume of my alarm up to full blast. Right next to my head.”

Linda snorted, “Oh. Well. That does sound like you.” There was something underneath her tone. As if there was a jab at Ransom. He was stone faced though. “Well, Y/N. At least you tried. That’s all we can say sometimes.”

You nodded, exhaling. Your heart was still beating rapidly.

“So, what brought you to a business convention at a college, Ransom? Surely it wasn’t to see me?” Linda asked, looking at him expectantly.

Ransom told her, “Actually. It was. I was hoping we could catch lunch. I wanted to talk to you about something. When’s this thing over?”

Linda checked her watch and said, “I can really leave any time now.”

You fought to hide your disappointment.

Her attention was on you now. “How about I give you my number, Y/N? I would like to continue this conversation about your business model proposal; it is promising.”

You sat up straighter, heart beginning to race again. She liked your idea? Truly?

“I could use some fresh minds at my disposal. That is if you are interested in my company.”

“Oh. Yes,” you said quickly.

Linda smirked at you amused at your quick response. She pulled out a small card from her purse and flipped it over, scribbling a number on the back. Holding it out to you, she said, “Personal cell phone. Now, don’t abuse it.”

“Of course not,” you reassured her, taking it from her. “That would be disrespectful.”

“Yes, it would,” Linda agreed. She stood up from her chair, straightening out her dress. She held out her purse to Ransom, “Here.”

He took it reluctantly as she gathered herself. You stood to meet her, realizing in your excited state you had neglected to do when she rose. You wanted to kick yourself.

When she looked at you again, you stuck your hand out. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with me. It was enlightening and beneficial for me to have a respected self-made businesswoman’s opinion.”

Linda shook your hand strongly. “You’re welcome, Y/N. I hope to hear from you soon.”

She walked past you and you pivoted, following her movement.

Ransom was staring you down and you averted your eyes from him to the ground momentarily before looking up at him again. He smirked when you met his gaze again. There was something malicious about it and you did not like it one bit.

<> <> <>

A knock on your bedroom door drew you from your bed. You put your bookmark in place and tossed the book onto the comforter next to you before getting up.

Swinging the door open, you startled seeing Ransom standing there, his large hand planted on the doorframe, leaning in towards you. His cologne was strong, wafting in around you.

“Can I come in?” he asked you without waiting for an answer, pushing past you.

“I…” you started to say, stumbling your words. “Yes?”

Ransom was taking your room in and you shifted uncomfortably. He walked over to your desk, flipping through the pages of your latest pieces of your latest thesis; the one you had been speaking to his mother about.

Eyes ran over the pictures hung of you and your friends, over your bookcase, your movie collection, fingers tracing your jewelry hung on display…

He was invading your space.

“Um, can I help you with something? Is Malcolm supposed to be here?”

“He is here,” Ransom answered, dismissively, coming to rest in front of your collection of rocks you had collected from different parts of the world you had traveled to. You could tell him where each one was from with ease, memory tied deeply to them. He was touching them, examining them, and tossing them carelessly back into the bowl.

Moving quickly over to him, you asked, “Can I help you with something then?”

He dropped the rock he was looking at and turned to you, “Yes, actually. I came up here to ask you out on a date.”

Taken aback, you leaned away, brows furrowed in confusion. “Ah. What?”

“Are you the one with a hearing problem, then?” Ransom quipped.

“I heard you just fine,” you responded, still trying to catch up with what was happening.

“Then it’s settled. I have a reservation at Ocean Prime at 7pm tonight. I’ll come back by to pick you up at 6:30pm.” He moved past you back towards your door.

Your mouth was open like a fish, blinking. You snapped back to reality and turned quickly. “Wait—”

“Wear something nice!” Ransom ordered over his shoulder, not bothering to close the door behind him.

Deflating, you stared at the empty doorway behind him. He had not even given you time to respond – to decline if you so chose to. But could you really decline? He was Linda Drysdale’s son. And you wanted so desperately a break into that business world that she moved in; Ransom – despite his boorish behavior – could be a key to that if you played your cards right.

Turning towards your closet, you bit your lip. What could you wear?

<> <> <>

Holding your clutch close in front of you, you walked next to Ransom after the valet took your car. He had a long stride and guided you to keep up with him. Throughout dinner he surprisingly asked you questions about yourself, allowing you to answer. You kept it short and courteous, mindful about not overindulging. He genuinely seemed interested and you were caught off guard; you had expected him to go off about himself. It is what his persona had indicated he would be like in all your encounters with him. Maybe he had simply been in a bad mood?

At least that was the case with you. He was less than courteous with the wait staff and you found yourself forcing yourself to thank them more profusely and smile wider to try to make up for him.

He picked up the entire bill although you had offered to go Dutch. He had seemed momentarily vexed by the offer but recovered quickly, holding out his card to the waitress between his fingers, not even acknowledging her presence past that.

On the ride home, it was quiet, the windows down in his beamer as the two of you raced through the city. He was a fast driver and it made you nervous, but you tried to focus on the city lights, taking in the night life.

Ransom insisted on walking you back inside and having another drink. He helped himself to a smidge of Malcolm’s scotch and handed you your own glass. You sipped and made a face even though you tried not to.

“Right. It’s not a woman’s drink,” he said, taking the glass back from you and emptying it into his own. “Let’s get you something fruity. Ah, perfect. Let me guess: this orange vodka is yours?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, playing with the top ruffle of your dress.

Ransom made you a drink of the vodka, orange juice, a splash of sprite, and ice.

“You know your way around a drink,” you commented lightly, taking a sip.

“I had the pleasure of being able to experiment with my mother and father’s extensive alcohol cabinet since I was a teen,” Ransom responded, taking a drink of the scotch. He walked around you to the living room. “I’ve always loved Malcolm’s style of decorating. He is good at keeping the Victorian look of the house while touching it up with modern.”

You followed him, listening.

He tossed you a look and said, “You haven’t put your touch on anything out here.”

“It’s not really my house. I just rent my room.”

“I know,” Ransom chuckled. “That’s why I wanted to see your room.” Another drink. “Want to show me it again?”

The way he so flippantly mentioned it…

“You don’t want to stay down here?”

Ransom turned back to you, chuckling. He pushed your glass, guiding it up to your lips. “Drink up.” You did as he asked and almost choked when he made you finish the entire thing. “Now, let me ask you again… want to show me again?”

No. He had not simply been in a bad mood the last couple of times. He was still the same inconsiderate, entitled jerk.

You did not answer him, at loss for words.

“Fine. Thought you would feel more at ease in your bedroom, but I guess here is just as well.” You made to protest but he interrupted, “Malcolm isn’t coming home tonight. I asked because I invited them to do dinner too, but he declined since they are going up north to see Alyssa’s parents. Fortuitous for me.”

Finishing his drink in a quick gulp, he grabbed both your glasses and placed them on the mantel above the fireplace. Before you could react, he tugged you to him, his mouth crashing into yours. You tried to recoil but he held tight, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. He turned you, forcing you up against the wall to further prevent you from escaping.

His hands slipped up underneath your dress, gripping at your thighs.

“Hey!” you finally were able to exclaim when he came up for air. You tried to push him away. “Ransom!”

“Yes?” he asked condescendingly, forcing you back against the wall erasing the small amount of space you had carved out for yourself with the shove. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes! Stop!” you told him, trying to escape underneath his arm but he blocked your attempt, pressing his body weight against you. “Please!”

“What? You don’t like me?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t even know you!”

“Oh, but you want to know me. And you want to know my family. That is clear as day,” Ransom stated, leaning in close, his nose almost brushing yours. “A girl from a modest family trying to get a leg up in the world…” He smirked. “Truth be told, I would love to get your leg up. But first…”

He forced you to your knees, your face close to his crotch. You tried to push yourself up and away, but he grasped your hair and you stilled, gasping at the tug he administered when you had tried to move again.

Ransom’s free hand came down to your cheek, caressing gently. His thumb brushed over your lips as you shakily made eye contact with him. His pupils were beginning to dilate, desire glaring as his tongue ran across his lip. He hand cupped your jaw and he murmured, “You keep saying you’re sorry. I want you to show me how sorry you are.”

You gaped and he grinned, “That’s the spirit, keep it open.”

Gasping when he shoved your cheek up against him again, you felt his hardening dick through his pants. “Come on, Y/N. Be a good girl. I know you know how to do this. A girl like you? From a modest family not in the area? You didn’t get through school just on brains alone. Had to make connections somehow.”

Anger coursed through you at his words and you tried to push away from him once more, but he just wound his hand tighter in your hair causing you to wince. Tears pricked at your eyes as your anger melted to humiliation as he grinded his length up and down your cheek.

Yanking you away, he stared down at you, tickled at the expression on your face.

“You want to use my mother to get into the business world with a bang. It’s understandable, she’s great at what she does. And she has those connections in her hand to give you. All you gotta do is charm her and give her results.”

“But I want you to have to work a little harder for it. You know I can say one thing to my mother, and she won’t have anything to do with you ever again.” He ran his fingers across your lips forcibly. “So, you’re going to open that pretty little mouth of yours and you’re going to show me one, how sorry you are and two, how badly you want to break out of your situation.”

When you did not answer he gave your head a little shake, “Right, Y/N?”

You licked your lips, a tear escaping. Horsley, you answered, “Right.”

He unzipped his trousers, his cock springing free from the confines of his boxer briefs. You stared at the length in front of you, trying to compose yourself. You could do this. You had to do this. You were backed into a corner, literally and figuratively.

Ransom tasted salty as you took him into your mouth. He groaned the further you took him in, increasing your speed the wetter you made him. His fingers at the back of your head were digging in, forcibly pushing you further to take him even deeper. Tongue swirling, you drew low moans of pleasure from him.

Suddenly, both his hands grasped the sides of your head, holding you in place. He thrusted, using you and you struggled to stay steady on your knees with his violent jolts. Loud grunts left his lips, animalistic and savage. You gagged, a few tears running down your cheeks. He was hitting the back of your throat so roughly you thought you were going to get sick.

Fortunately, he pushed you away. Gasping for air, you rubbed at your throat, trying to ease the discomfort.

He grasped your arms and yanked you from the floor. In a fluid motion, he spun the two of you around to face the back of the couch. His hand pressed to the small of your back and your face came to contact with the couch cushions.

Ransom forced himself between your legs, kicking one out to the side to give himself more room.

“A-a condom?” you choked out.

“You’re on birth control, aren’t you?” he asked, hiking your dress up.

“Y-y-yes.”

He chortled and said to himself more than anything, “Well, we will have to fix that for next time.”

You bucked forward when you felt his fingers slipping inside you, rubbing at your clit. You whimpered feeling yourself get wetter with each stroke. You were getting close; he was skilled at pushing you towards falling over the edge.

But he wanted to be inside you for that; his fingers left and his head replaced them.

When he pushed himself inside, you cried out adjusting to his girth. He moaned loudly, bottoming out. He let out a little laugh before pulling out and slamming back in. Your hands gripped the cushions trying to give yourself some sense of balance as he rammed into you repeatedly.

Ransom was holding tight at your hips, his own snapping off your ass hard enough that it was going to bruise. Each stroke of his cock against your clit sent a flow of pleasure through you until it was like a wave breaking. Broken whimpers echoed as you convulsed around him. When he came with a loud shout, you felt him fill you, his cock twitching inside.

His grip went lax at your hips and he reached underneath, and you squeaked when he pinched at your oversensitive clit.

“That was cute,” he husked, his hands slowly running up your sides. One of his hands snaked around your neck and he pulled you back up to his chest, still fully seated inside you.

“Mhm, yeah,” Ransom breathed against your ear, his fingers flexing in and out on your neck. “I think if you keep this up, you will be the epitome of the type of girl I want to bring home to my parents.”

<> <> <>

…PRESENT

Ransom never let you out from underneath his thumb, not that he needed to try too hard. You knew that if you divorced him, you had nothing. You had signed a prenup and even if you thought you could make it without money, there would be bad blood with the Drysdales and with how much influence they had on the area, you would have a huge obstacle to overcome.

Yes, you got to work with Linda, and you had influence with her. But it was still her business, not yours.

You had gotten what you wanted mostly though.

A family. Money. A place in the business world.

It just came with a price.

Ransom’s hand gripped your leg underneath the table, sliding past the hem to the inside of your thigh.

“Now I have two precious things in this world to me,” he said in response to his father.

Another perfectly crafted smile from you.

And he still had that malicious glint in his eye, even as he leaned in and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Good girl,” he breathed so only you could hear.

[nosunsetsjustsilence]

The Manics and Gender Identity, Part 1

There is a lot to unpack in Nicky and Richey’s early lyrics pertaining to gender, particularly in terms of identifying with women. Richey approaches the subject — as he is wont to do — with regard to the exploitation and degradation of the female image, while Nicky’s attitude is more inquisitive and casual. Both use lyrics to express their own personal “What if?”

Make no mistake: I’m not claiming that either Nicky or Richey is/was non-cis or trans or anything other than curious. But it’s clear from their personal lyric struggles and hard-won lifestyle choices that this was a different time they were living in. In the 1990s, gender identity was not a topic with any kind of mainstream recognition, at least beyond those who wanted a “sex change” or girls who were considered “one of the boys”. I think it’s fascinating, at least from my perspective, to go back and examine the themes of gender dysphoria, identity, and frustration in lyrics written before any of it was part of popular conversation, and in a way that emphasized the then absolute cultural disconnect between desire and society.

Also, it’s important to note that both Nicky and Richey have presented gender in ways that don’t have anything to do with lyrics. Nicky is comfortable in traditionally female clothing and wears dresses on and off stage; both band members wore makeup and feathers on a regular basis. I’ve tried to write about gender in terms of lyrics only, but at times I do take examples from visual media.

Finally, keep in mind that yours truly is non-binary, and the discussion will hopefully not reek of a cis person watching queer men from behind bars in a zoo.

Special thanks to @sinisterrouge for vetting this before I posted <3

Little Baby Nothing

Although Richey seemed to find comfort in claiming that his lyrics were about the larger world — in the case of Little Baby Nothing, feminism and the way women are perceived in media — a closer look usually reveals a personal stake. When I discussed the meaning of this song previously, I emphasized that the “Little baby nothing” in question is clearly Richey himself, writing in the first person and deconstructing his own image to align with a kind of mindless female groupie used for sex.

My mind is dead, everybody loves me Wants a slice of me Hopelessly passive and compatible Need to belong, oh the roads are scary Hold me in your arms I wanna be your only possession

Richey often refers to himself as a “slut” and a “prostitute” and uses self-referential porn star imagery in his lyrics (So Dead: “You need a fix I’m your prostitute”, Yes: “there’s no lust in this coma even for a fifty”), aligning the industries of pornography and music performance in very vivid ways most often pertaining to exploitation. Appropriately, singing pivotal stanzas on this track is none other than Traci Lords, arguably most famous (especially in the early 90s) for an underage porn scandal.  

What’s more, in the lyrics booklet for Generation Terrorists, there is a quotation or excerpt included for each song. The following corresponds to Little Baby Nothing:

“The male chromosome is an incomplete female chromosome. In other words the male is a walking abortion; aborted at the gene stage. To be male is to be deficient, emotionally limited; maleness is a deficiency disease and males are emotional cripples.” -Valerie Solanos.

Ninety percent of what the Manics said and did in their early years was intended to be shocking and/or ironic. Of course they were trying to incite anger and riots, the questioning of institutions, and a teardown of normalcy. But the fact that Richey later used part of this radical statement as the title to one of his songs (“Of Walking Abortion”, natch) proves that he took it somewhat seriously, even if only in the most simple sense — that part of him resented his own maleness.

Life Becoming a Landslide

This is another song I’ve previously discussed, mostly in the arena of Nicky and Richey individualizing their distinctive voices into lines that can clearly be attributed to one or the other. In a song about nature vs nurture and the plastic confines of greater humanity cracking down on who or what someone is really supposed to be, we have:

Life becoming a landslide Ice freezing nature dead Life becoming a landslide I don’t wanna be a man

As far as writing style goes, Nicky was always fairly straightforward. Richey loves to convolute his message with proper nouns and alternating verb cases and a lack of a subject just to throw  people off, but here’s Nicky, my boy, just saying, “Dude. Being a man sucks. I don’t like this.”

He could mean that being human in general sucks. But, since his attitude towards women leads me to believe he would not abbreviate humanity in this way, and given his and Richey’s track record with gender and Nicky’s well-documented gender presentation, I think it’s clear the lyric means that he doesn’t want to be male. Because he feels it doesn’t suit him, for whatever reason. And that nature failed by making him a man instead of a woman.

Yes

‘Yes’ is an incredible song. Its major-chord melody juxtaposed against Richey’s raw portrait of degradation is truly a thing to behold. The theme? Being used, prostitution both literal and metaphorical (“For sale? dumb cunt’s same dumb questions”), exploitation in the name of capitalism (“In these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything”), and reaching the lowest possible point of existence (“Purgatory’s circle, drowning here, someone will always say yes”). But the chorus — the chorus boasts one of the rawest images of sexual violence the band has ever used:

He’s a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want

Wow. Okay. Where to begin? The implication here is that gender, along with everything else, is mutable if you have enough money and power to abuse people. However, it appears the change would be made not to entertain others, but to appeal to a specific person, sexually (“fuck him”). The “you” in question is clearly attracted to women, so the narrator offering to mutilate himself to please them can be seen as a last-ditch act of desperation. (“It feels like this massive defeat,” said a friend. “You can make him a woman to pleasure someone, but what’s left to change after that?”)

Richey wrote most of the song; “Rita”, obviously, is the name used for an alternative female identity. But who would Rita be? Richey seems to be wondering. Would she still be me? And would the change even be worth the affections of whomever he’s speaking to? If the means are so drastic (and difficult to picture without experiencing secondhand pain), that answer would usually be “no”. But the song is called “Yes”. I would say yes to anything at this point, Richey is saying, even the most extreme sexual violence imaginable, if that’s what you wanted.

4st 7lb

This is an extreme example of Richey using world issues to examine his own nature. Although anorexic himself, Richey writes “4st 7lb” from the point of view of an obsessive young girl admiring thin models. There could be multiple reasons for this, not the least of which is that when a person fails to fit the “classic” case of an eating disorder, they are often ignored. So, Richey says, you need me to be a teenage girl? I can do that. 

(Note that in 1994, when this song was written, any eating disorder demographic outside the “white girl who loves fashion too much” model did not exist by medical standards and was usually subject to ridicule.)

Karen says I’ve reached my target weight Kate and Emma and Kristin know it’s fake Problem is diet’s not a big enough word I wanna be so skinny that I rot from view

Embodying the anorexic female stereotype allows Richey to criticize both the world and himself; by creating a parody of a young girl with an eating disorder, he creates commentary on how ridiculous and counter-intuitive her thought process actually is. The song is brutal and often focuses on nudity and sexual imagery, as it has been suggested in studies that eating disorders occur in those who are trying to annihilate their own puberty. Though Richey was well into his 20s when he wrote this, he often expressed a loathing of aging and the entire concept of adulthood.

Stomach collapsed at five Lift up my skirt my sex is gone Naked and lovely and 5 stone 2 May I bud and never flower My vision’s getting blurred But I can see my ribs and I feel fine My hands are trembling stalks And I can feel my breasts are sinking

Ultimately, “4st 7lb” hits hard as both an experiment in identity and a vicious satire of the rich white girl eating disorder cliché. Although the lyrics do not express a desire to become female, they do indicate that Richey feels everything might be easier and fit more neatly into a box if he were a girl.

[Coming in Part 2: The Girl Who Wanted to be God, Tsunami, Born a Girl, and Pretention/Repulsion.]

[ralphspina]

Anatomy 201

Taglist: @gottapenny​ @itisjustmethistime​ @indigosandviolets​ 

--------- Maybe he was too tired or too rushed or too distracted or too… something. Whatever the reason was, George had definitely misread his schedule. As soon as the professor had started talking about what a fascinating subject the human body was, welcoming them all to Human Anatomy 201 (decidedly not Engineering Sustainable Architecture), George had muttered a quiet fuck under his breath and pulled up his schedule on his laptop. Apparently, his class was in room 203 at 3pm, not in room 302 at 2pm. Oops.

He could walk out now, but class has started, the professor is already on a roll, and George has nothing to do for an hour. Besides, human anatomy could be considered its own kind of architecture, right? And he definitely wasn't basing his entire decision to stay on the guy sitting a couple seats away. 

Now there’s some human anatomy I’d like to study.

George studies his lecture hall classmate as best he can out of the corner of his eye. The guy is something else with his dark hair, furrowed brow (people shouldn’t look that good with a furrowed brow!), and blue-gray eyes. And his hands - George can appreciate a nice looking pair of hands and this guy’s got the kind of hands that make George’s mind wander a bit too far into the gutter for the middle of class. He blinks rapidly and tries to drag his mind to a more respectable level for his current academic surroundings.

George’s mind wanders to what he’s doing tonight (homework and meeting Perco for dinner - nothing groundbreaking-ly exciting) and it isn’t long before he finds his thoughts churning around the possibilities of what Handsome Guy a few seats over will be doing later. He hazards a glance towards Handsome Guy and is more than a bit startled to find him staring right back. Handsome Guy’s eyes widen slightly and dart back to the front of the room when George catches him looking. Something tightens in George’s stomach and he can’t help the tiny smirk that appears on his face.

George spends the rest of the class daydreaming about how he’ll introduce himself to Handsome Guy once class is over. He won’t have long since his architecture class is just a few minutes after this one ends so whatever he says has to be short and sweet and memorable. For thirty minutes he practices his little spiel in his head as butterflies of both the Nervous and Excited varieties flutter away in his stomach. As soon as class ends, George packs his stuff up as quickly as possible and turns to make his way towards Handsome Guy. It wasn’t quick enough - the guy he just spent the entire class drooling over apparently booked it out of there before George even had a chance to say hi. The disappointment crushes him for a moment but George is not someone so easily deterred - there’s always next week.

And the week after.

And the week after.

And the week after that.

In fact, it takes over a month’s worth of classes before George finally gets his shot. Handsome Guy’s end of class exit is delayed thanks to a chatty classmate and George is right there, waiting in the wings, for his chance.

“That guy can really ramble, huh?” It’s not the spiel George had been practicing for weeks now but in a very un-George-like turn of events, his mind completely blanks once he’s face to face with Handsome Guy.

Handsome Guy’s brow furrows in confusion and he raises a questioning eyebrow at George, “Smokey?”

“What?”

“Smokey, the guy I was just talkin’ to… you mean him?”

George is so thrown by the unexpected (and incredibly attractive) accent that his mind momentarily forgets the original question.

“What? Oh, uh, no, I mean the professor. Old guy really likes to rattle on and on, yeah?”

For a moment, George thinks he’s totally tanked this but a smile slowly spreads across Handsome Guy’s face.

“Yeah, he does.”

George smiles back and offers his hand, “I’m George by the way. George Luz.”

“Eugene Roe. You can just call me Gene. Nice to meet you.”

“Gene? I like it. Never met a Gene before.”

“Ain’t a lot of us. Bit of an old-fashioned name I guess.”

“Alright, well, Mr. Old-Fashioned, don’t suppose you want to grab a coffee or something?”

“Sure. Could use a coffee before my next class. You like Renee’s? They make real good cookies there too.”

Gene’s smile is too warm and inviting for George to correct himself by saying he actually meant getting coffee some other time because he has class right now, so instead he tells Gene how much he loves the double chocolate cookies at Renee’s as they walk out of the lecture hall together.

They’re just leaving the building as they run in to Perco at the entrance. 

“George, the hell you going? Class is the other way.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I know. I’m just starving. Missed breakfast so I`m going to grab something to eat before I pass out,” George grins and claps his hand on Perconte’s shoulder, “Let me know if i miss anything good ok?”

George watches as his friend's eyes flick back and forth between him and Gene who’s standing quietly to the side watching the exchange.

“Yeah, alright, I’ll see ya later.” And with that, Perco makes his way inside the building leaving George and Gene alone in the entryway.

“You supposed to be in class?”

“Eh,” George shrugs his shoulders, “Sustainable Architecture. Professor basically just regurgitates the book anyway. We still going to Renee`s?” George nods his head in the direction of the cafe and heads out the door, Gene following by his side.

“Sustainable Architecture?,” Gene raises an eyebrow at George clearly puzzling something over, “What’re you majorin’ in anyway?”

“Architecture.”

“Architecture?”

“Mhmm.” 

“So, what’re you doin’ in Anatomy 201?”

“Oh, you know,” George can feel his cheeks redden a bit as he talks, “Just real fascinated by the human body. Especially certain human bodies.” George looks over at Gene and bats his big eyes in a playful, overly-flirtatious manner.

Gene does his best to suppress a grin, but it's’ a losing battle.

“Oh, so just personal interest then?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Life’s short, why not pursue your interests while you can?” There’s a small pause before George adds, “Not that you make it very easy with your disappearing into thin air the second class is over.”

Gene darts a look over at George and chews his bottom lip before saying, “I was tryin’ to avoid distractions. Promised myself I would when I got to college. Was doin’ good to. Until now.”

“Oh, so you think I’m distracting?” George teases. But he’s focused on looking at Gene and digesting the fact that Gene just called him distracting with that look on his face that he doesn't notice the bus stop bench and walks straight into it.

Gene barely chokes back a laugh as he reaches out and grabs George’s elbow, gently guiding him around the bench. 

“You alright?”

“Ha! See? Pretty sure you’re the distraction around here.”

“Guess so.” The smile on Gene’s face as he looks at him is enough to make George’s knees turn into jello. Thankfully, despite his jello knees, George manages to walk the rest of the way to Renee’s without incident, where he and Gene spend more than an hour chatting and laughing and chowing down on cookies. (Gene ends up missing a class too.)

[eldri-sv]

2 - Shinsou

Kaori Shinsou has always been fascinated by people's minds. She is one of the best students in her Criminal Psychology course at U.A. and - being the lucky girl she is - her professor is not only one handsome dude, but is also working on the case of the serial killer Stain - a case that has been going on for years. As she is about to become Professor Aizawa's TA during the next term, a lot of other interesting cases start popping up all over the country... AU, OC x Aizawa

Trigger warnings: insomnia, stress, mentions of death

(possibly incomplete, if you’d like something added, please let me know)

You keep me up at night

(Florence + The Machine - Big God)

Kaori Shinsou had trouble sleeping, as usual. She was tired, that wasn't the problem. She had no nightmares. She was just not able to turn off her brain for some reason. Thoughts kept racing through her head and she couldn't stop thinking and she couldn't sleep. They were stupid thoughts, too. Not even worrying. Just stupid thoughts. Kaori tossed and turned and then gave up.

She grabbed her phone from the night table and checked the time. It was 4 am. She would have to get up in two hours anyway and get ready for university. There was really no point in lying around and waiting. She might as well be as productive as she could. She closed her eyes and let out a loud and annoyed groan.

Then she opened her eyes and quickly sat up. She crawled out of her futon and turned on the lamp on her desk. There were a bunch of opened books and half-written essays lying around. Kaori had made it a habit to start her essays the first day they got them and finish them with minutes to spare. At least that way people couldn't say she should have started earlier.

She knew exactly Professor Aizawa wasn't buying it, but he seemed to get some sort of amusement out of her trying to be organized and repeatedly failing. She looked over the half-finished papers absent-mindedly. Maybe she could actually finish one ahead of time for once...?

Kaori shook her head to herself. No. Not like this. She couldn't go and write papers while she was still in her pajamas. Maybe she should just get dressed for university already. It wasn't like she was going to go back to sleep anyway.

With another sigh she got up from her desk and walked to her wardrobe. She grabbed a pair of knee-highs and some fresh underwear from her closet and then proceeded to grab some clothes from her pile on the floor. Kaori was glad at first when she realized she didn't need to wear her school uniform anymore, but she quickly found out that life had been much easier when there was one less thing to worry about.

So she stuck to wearing skirts and knee-high socks and blouses a lot of the time, simply because she was so used to herself looking like that. She just couldn't imagine anything else looking even remotely decent on her. She tried a few styles and had at this point assembled a wildly diverse range of outfits, but she still felt most comfortable in something that resembled a school uniform.

She quietly opened the door to her room and snuck outside through the hallway. Her parents would get insanely mad if they knew she hadn't slept again. Kaori had been telling them her insomnia was fine again, mostly so she didn't have to take the sleeping pills her doctor would prescribe for her. They made her sleep like a baby, but she hated the side effects that caused some random memory gaps in her brain. And she really couldn't use that while she was in the middle of university.

As she was passing her little brother's door she heard a loud bang coming from the room. Not loud enough for her parents to hear it, but Kaori had learned to hear even the tiniest sounds. Especially when it was as quiet as it was right now. She knocked at the door, careful not to be too loud. There was no reply.

She carefully opened the door just a little bit. Her brother was lying in his futon, eyes closed and his hands folded over his chest. He looked like a mummy. No one slept like that and he should have known better. She looked over to the desk. The lamp on it was still glowing a little, as if it had just now been turned off. There were a lot of open books on the table as well.

"It's just me, Hitoshi. No need to panic." she whispered. Hitoshi Shinsou opened one eye and visibly relaxed when he saw it was only his sister.

"You gave me a fright." he said to her and quietly sat up again. Kaori grinned a little. Hitoshi had a similarly severe case of insomnia as she did and he also had no intention of taking sleeping pills.

"Can I come in?" she asked. Hitoshi nodded slightly, it was barely noticeable. Kaori slipped inside the room and closed the door, conscious of not making any noise whatsoever. Not that their parents were easy to wake. For some reason the insomnia genes seemed to have skipped them, but they were wildly rampant in both Kaori and Hitoshi. Or maybe their parents were just too exhausted after their work at the hospital.

"Can't sleep?" Kaori said to her brother, as he got out of his futon and went back to his desk. She sat down on one of his side tables. It was more of a rhetorical question since both of them knew that he couldn't sleep. And it wasn't like Hitoshi even wanted to sleep. He had other plans.

"No. You, too?" he replied. Kaori nodded and glanced over the books that were open. They were her old Criminology books. Hitoshi had tried to get into the Criminology course himself, but hadn't made it. It was a really close cut for him, too. All he wanted was to get into Criminal Psychology like his older sister. He had made the cut for the Psychology course and was now studying and tormenting himself relentlessly to get the best grades he could possibly get, in order to transfer into Criminology next year.

"Late night study session, I assume?" Kaori asked him.

"Yeah. I can't slack off. I finished all my assignments for Psych, so I have some time to catch up on all the Criminology stuff. And since I can't sleep anyway..." he answered and grinned. Kaori chuckled and shook his head. His hair was sticking out wildly in all directions and she just knew he wouldn't even bother with it before going to university. His eyes were as tired as usual, which made his grin look almost scary.

"You do know you can get into Criminal Psychology with a Psych degree, right?" she remarked.

"Yeah, but I don't want to." he replied.

"Why not?"

"Because that's the route people go who aren't good enough to get into Criminology and are too lazy to try and get in the next year. And that's what it'll look like on my CV, too. And I know I can do better, because I really only had a blackout during the entrance exams. And I'm shit at interviews."

Kaori smiled at him. She always admired how determined Hitoshi could be and how he could look so unmotivated at the same time. He had always been the one working harder for what he wanted. Academics had always come easy to both of them, but more so to Kaori. Hitoshi really had to crunch to keep up.

"I assume you're heading into uni early today?" he asked looking at the scrambled up clothes in Kaori's arms.

"Yeah, just trying to kill some time, so mum and dad won't get suspicious, in case they hear the shower." she said and yawned. Fuck, she needed a coffee. Extra strong and black, without any fancy milk or sugar or any of that shit.

"They won't wake up. I heard them come home at around 2 or something. They'll be fast asleep by now." Hitoshi replied. Kaori nodded.

"You taking the car?" he asked.

"Pfft, no."

"Are you sure? Did you look at the weather outside?"

Kaori got up and went up to the window. Was the weather really that bad? When she looked outside she saw heavy raindrops falling against the window. Judging from the puddles it had already been raining for quite a while. Kaori sighed.

"You know I hate driving." she said.

"Not my fault mum and dad managed to convince you to take the driving test." he replied and shrugged.

"It's just a little water, you won't die from getting a little wet..." Kaori answered, sounding much less convincing than she would have liked to. She knew exactly how much she hated to get wet and sit in class while feeling uncomfortable about just everything. Plus, it would get really cold and she might fall asleep during class from that.

"You know you don't mean that." Hitoshi said with a triumphant grin. Kaori sighed again. She knew that she would be driving the moment Hitoshi had brought it up. He just had a way about him to get people to do what he wanted. He used to be a real brat with that, but once he was mostly through puberty, he had gotten much better with it.

"Why don't you drive for once? You've got your provisional license and I would be qualified to come with you, you know." Kaori suggested.

"You really want me to drive your car and be on the passenger seat while I do that? Are you... are you okay? You know you can talk about it, if you're feeling suicidal, right?" Hitoshi replied. Kaori grabbed a pair of socks from the floor (hoping Hitoshi hadn't worn them yet, because... ugh) and threw them at his head, barely missing it. At least she messed up his hair. If there was even a way to mess it up.

"You're such a dick sometimes, you know that?" she said. Hitoshi just shrugged, pretending he didn't care. Kaori knew that he cared, he just didn't like showing it. He had always had this whole tough exterior thing going, but he was really a big softie at heart. Kaori knew because she was similar.

She remembered how distraught Hitoshi was when their cat died after they had gotten her as a kitten 14 years ago. He was crying in his bedroom for days and even skipped two days of uni for it. He barely ate. He had loved that cat more than life itself and he kept saying that he still wasn't ready to move on and get a new kitten. (Kaori knew that he had been looking at some ads online, though. She had caught him during lunch break in the canteen one time, when he wasn't fast enough to hide his phone.)

"Fine. I'll drive. If we die, it's on you, just for the record." Kaori said. Hitoshi gave her a heartfelt smile.

"Thanks, sis. I'll make sure it'll be mentioned at our funeral." he replied. Kaori glanced at the clock hanging at Hitoshi's wall. It was ticking loudly. She had always wondered how Hitoshi wasn't annoyed by this, but he kept insisting that it was relaxing him. It was 4.47 am. Even if her parents would wake up, it wouldn't be too early to find a suitable excuse. She walked back to the door.

"I'll go and take a shower then, I guess. Don't study too much, Toshi." she mumbled on her way out.

"I'll be fine."

[supersxn]

GROUP CHAT || SUPERFAM + CASSIE

WHO: Jon Kent, Cassie Sandsmark ( @demiwxnder​ ), Conner Kent ( @kxnel​ ), Clark Kent ( @lastsxn​ ), Kara Danvers ( @maidenxfmight​ ). Mentions: Erik Lehnsherr, Bruce Wayne, Lois Lane. 

WARNINGS: Mentions events of Red!K/drugging of Kara with the red kryptonite. Kon and Cassie both love to swear! plus Clark being a Bad Dad. Vague mention of sex, oops. 

SUMMARY: What started out as teasing Jon turned to Clark revealing something about Kon that had the entire group chat questioning his intentions. 

Cassie: how long until the baby finally decides to stop hiding behind mom and dad and comes home do we think?? just curious

Conner: not for another week at least 🙄

Jon: 😐 thanks.

Conner: tell me i'm wrong 

Cassie: you know he's not!

Jon: maybe i want to avoid you two being GROSS

Conner: avoiding grossness by going to the farm? yeah, okay.

Jon: didn't ask for your opinion, especially from you two.

Cassie: yikes.

Kara: let him have kansas

Conner: I don't want Kansas anyway so there

Cassie: we're having a great time in nyc so we'll pass.

Jon: 'we'

Conner: the best time. in every room 🙂

Jon: EW.

Conner: lol

Kara: oh gross

Cassie: 😉 don't get snarky and we won't overshare!

Conner: he never learns :pensive:

Jon: i hate this.

Clark: Jonathan stop adding me to chats.

Jon: i'm innocent!

Cassie: oh ew.

Conner: whyyyyyy

Clark: If having Jon at your apartment is such an inconvenience I'm sure something else could be arranged, Conner.

Cassie: so you do know how to acknowledge him? fascinating.

Conner: Jesus, that's not what I even meant [UNSENT] whatever.

Jon: he didn't mean it like that, dad.

Clark: We'll be speaking about this later.

Jon: great. [UNSENT]

Kara: they're brothers, this is pretty par for the course for them. i promise they’re fine, kal

Conner: You know I'm pretty sure even Batman can go two sentences without ruining a conversation, Supes.

Clark: sure, brothers.

Cassie: they are brothers, but whatever makes you feel better about never acknowledging your other kid.

Clark: I have a name, Conner.

Conner: Cass, it's fine.

Cassie: it's not, but i'll back down if that's what you want.

Clark: Conner, now that I have you would you mind telling me why Magneto seems to be so fond of you?

Cassie: ...what is he talking about, kon?

Conner: oh fuck off, Clark.

Jon: uh oh

Clark: Language!

Conner: fuck you. Don't tell me what to do.

Cassie: kon-el, what is he talking about?

Clark: I cannot believe you continue to live with this... disrespectful hooligan!

Jon: dad. breathe. he's my brother, this is pretty par the course.

Conner is OFFLINE

Kara: he's family you would do well to remember what family is kal-el

Cassie: fuck you, clark. i hope you realize how shitty of a dad you are. if you can even be called that for your blatant favoritism of your only 'actual' kid. actually. do you even pay attention to anyone outside him and your wife? probably not, huh.

Clark: That boy has been speaking with the man who just caused you to take part in a terrorist plot.

Cassie is OFFLINE

Kara: and i'll be talking with /him/ about that maybe this is a good time for everyone to step back and take a breath

Jon: yeah.

Clark: He's more Luthor than Kent, Kara, there's no changing that.

Jon: how? how is he? what proof is there of that?

Kara: do you know him? really know him?

Jon: do you think batman would even let him get near one of his robins if he was? i mean, seriously.

Clark: Other than the fact that Magneto seems to think they've forged some sort of kinship? You just saw how flighty he got, don't be naïve, son. I know enough.

Jon: you accused him of colluding with a terrorist. i think i'd be flighty too if you accused me of that. i'm not naive.

Clark: He knows he's a Kent. Now where else could he find that out, Jon?

Kara: sometimes it's good to /ask/ first. if you'd spend some time getting to know [us–DELETED] him, maybe you'd know when something is off. why don't you try talking to him? without attacking him.

Clark: I handled Lex with kid gloves and it nearly cost me everything. I'm not letting that happen again.

Clark is OFFLINE

Jon: he's not lex!

Kara: kon isn't lex

Jon: great.

Kara: okay then

Conner is ONLINE

Conner: is he gone?

Jon: yes.

Conner: dude, he sucks

Cassie is ONLINE

Cassie: are you going to explain then?

Kara: he's gone, but can we still talk about this magneto thing?

Conner: it's not like what he made it seem like.

Kara: i'm asking, not accusing, i promise

Cassie: excuse me for being worried when you've been disappearing constantly lately. [UNSENT] we just want you to explain we're not accusing like kara said.

Conner: just like, during the siege I went to Stark tower and told him to fuck off and then we might've like met for coffee or whatever. it was nothing

Cassie: why the fuck are you meeting him for coffee?

Conner: Look, what he did was wrong but he has shed light on a ton of stuff. He asked to meet, I said fine and we had coffee. That was it.

Jon: on /what/, conner?

Kara: 'wrong' is an understatement–[DELETED] he /drugged/ me–[DELETED] can we talk? in person?

Cassie: why didn't you tell me?

Conner: Depends, will you lie? I didn't want you to worry over nothing

Cassie: this seems more than nothing. since when do you keep things from me?

Jon: are you being careful at least?

Kara: no, i promise honesty

Conner: I'm not keeping things from you! You just never asked. yeah, I mean obviously, or I'd be dead, right?

Cassie: how am i supposed to know to ask about you getting coffee with magneto, kon-el?!

Conner: I don't know how you want me to answer that

Cassie: because you know any answers you have are shitty. whatever, kon.

Conner: Kara, I'll just... come to you I guess.

Cassie is OFFLINE

Conner: Goddammit. Tell your dad to stay the fuck out of my life, Jon.

Jon: sorry, conner. i'm sure she'll...be less angry in the morning? maybe. she's angry all the time, so i don't know

Conner: heh, yeah. Well it's not your fault. You obviously got more of your mom's genes. 🙄

Jon: i'll tell her you say hi?

Conner: says a lot about me, huh? [UNSENT] yeah. Thanks, Jon.

Jon: good luck, dude. on both fronts.

Conner is OFFLINE

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “ What Death Tastes Like” Part 5

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1    Part 2   Part 3     Part 4

The Joker feels his face covered in soft kisses and although generally speaking he loves being pampered, this particular instance awakens his self-defense mechanism.

“What time is it?” J mutters.

“Let me see,” you stretch for your phone. “12:03 am.”

“I should go,” he lifts his head up from the pillow and you pull him back in your arms, yawning.

“Stay for a little bit longer, ok?”

“Why?”

“I wish to hold on to my birthday present for a few more minutes,” Y/N pleads with the man she senses doesn’t want to be there anymore. “Don’t worry, I’m aware it was a casual affair,” your sad smile prompts a completely out of context answer:

“If you noticed I fell asleep, you should have woken me up!” The King of Gotham complains.

“I fell asleep also,” you snuggle to him and since J is suddenly quiet you whisper. “It was amazing.”

He keeps staring which makes you wonder what the hell is going on in his mind right now.

“At least for me,” you underline after you grasp he won’t comment on the subject; you didn’t have a clue he’ll convert the night you spent together into awkwardness for no reason. “Get out of my tent!” you snap at his behavior, irritated. “Get out!” you shove him and The Clown Prince of Crime doesn’t budge.

“Why are you mad?” he finally addresses the annoyed Y/N.

“Because you’re a jerk!”

“Come again?!” The Joker frowns and Scarecrow’s daughter has a clever response; she doesn’t share his genes for nothing.

“I would but I guess you’re not a big fan of us having sex a second time!!!”

“Wow!” J bitterly scoffs. “You sure can twist a guy’s words, huh? If you really must pry into my personal life, I’ll have you know that I’m not used with small talk afterwards, understand?”

While you wonder if he’s bluffing, you can’t help offer the benefit of doubt served with a side of insolence.

“Well, maybe if you would give it a try with someone that actually cares, you’d have stuff to discuss.”

“Miss Crane, what makes you think Mara doesn’t like me?”

The Joker expects a feisty reply to his audacious remark yet he receives a piece of sturdy logic instead:

“If she was crazy in love, she wouldn’t agree and with this on and off relationship you two have.”

J is obviously displeased at your statement thus Y/N has to unleash her creativity in order to push him comprehend what she’s aiming at.

“The problem is you don’t approach anything important, you only shut down everyone. Even Emma believes she’s not yours.”

The King of Gotham was preparing to lash out but your latest sentence totally catches him off guard.

“What do you mean?!”

“You never talk about her mother granted she keeps asking so Emma presumes you probably stole her from an individual you consider your enemy and raised her as revenge.”

“Huh?!” The Joker gets on his elbow, appalled. “She is my daughter!”

“I say that to her when she panics, unfortunately random people do look similar…,” you twirl a strand of his green hair around your fingers. “Steering clear from issues we’re uncomfortable with doesn’t necessarily result in a positive outcome,” Y/N concludes and her partner is not excited at all.

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?!”

“I’m a Crane,” you peck his lips. “It’s in our blood.”

A lot of thoughts rushing behind those blue eyes and you’re confident his patience is running low; add a short fuse to the combo and according to your flawless instinct J will bite soon.

“Take me for example,” you attempt to cram in the main point of your dialogue before it happens. “I don’t care you’re older, I fancy your company nevertheless: you’re super handsome plus emotionally unattractive…”

“I’m what?!” The Joker interrupts.

“Umm… emotionally unattractive?” you hesitantly repeat while watching him jump off the pillows and start to collect his clothes in the semi darkness.

“Serves me right for sleeping with somebody half my age!” he growls at the young woman realizing she upset him with her rant.

“So you’re 46?” you struggle to joke at his affirmation.

“Listen here, Miss Crane!” J dresses in a hurry, angry at your stunt. “If you imagine you figured me out, you didn’t!! Nobody fucks with me!” he violently kicks the mattress and you can’t avoid it:

“I think I just did. Literally.”

The hate in his demeanor makes you regret opening up; your goal was to imply you like him no matter what yet the aftermath is way off what you intended.

“I apologize, OK?” you sigh and reach your hand for his.

“I hope you perish!” he strikes your fingers with such brutality it stings. “You’re dying anyway but hopefully the Cromyxillium kills you faster!” The Joker unzips the tent and leaves a shocked Y/N breathless at his hurtful tirade.

“That’s all you got? Stupid old man…” you whimper and cuddle under the thin blanket with his cushion.

Grief is not the correct term to describe what you experience for the moment: a perfect birthday turned into exactly the opposite in a blink of an eye simply because The Joker proved once more he has no concept on how to handle dynamite; fire suits him better.

***************

Next morning, 10:14am

“Are you hot or cold?” your father inquires since your intravenous therapy commenced 10 minutes ago.

“No,” you gaze at the IV bag and Jonathan lingers by your bed, reminding his offspring about their plan.

“We’ll do 3 hours on, 3 hours off; I’ll monitor your vitals and if you feel strange alert me immediately, deal?”

You nod a yes and his perseverance in aiding you with your terminal cancer evokes a sincere confession:

“Daddy…Thank you for trying to save me…I’m sorry I’m a burden…”

“A burden?!” Scarecrow mumbles.

There are a million facts you should evoke, yet the predominant one keeps hunting you.

“You buried yourself in the lab because of me…and Evelyn left…”

“Evelyn and I broke up for various motives,” your parent grumbles. “Saying I immersed myself into working because of you hints that I was forced into it against my will which is not true. I did everything out of love… I can’t bear the idea of losing you,” he kisses your temple; you wrap your free arm around his neck, squeezing him tight.

“You’re the best dad; I’m lucky you’re my father. If I die… you think mom is waiting for me?...”

Jonathan Crane has the weird sensation he’s choking; his wife died after you were born due to leukemia, now their daughter is fighting for survival: she’s plainly the last fortress separating him from utter madness.

“I couldn’t save your mother, but I’ll be damned if I let you die kid,” he caresses your cheek. “She can wait; I bet she’s not eager to take you with her,” Scarecrow reassures his daughter. “Rest honey.”

“I will…” you consent and Emma barging in the bedroom with her duffle bag switches your attention.

“I’m here, I’m here!” she exclaims. “Traffic was horrible, bad accident on the freeway!”

**************

11 am

“Are you comfortable?” Emma checks with her friend, not entirely certain how to bring up a very delicate topic clouding her usually bubbly disposition.

“Of course,” you smile and she wiggles in her recliner. “Are you?” you wink at her visible restlessness as you attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“Y/N…,” she taps the fluffy carpet with her feet. “Mmmm… last night after we returned from the river I dropped by to see how you’re doing and… I came to your tent…,” Emma pauses seeing the stupefied expression on your face. “I…I found my father sleeping in there with you…”

You lick your lips and strain to keep your calm even if your heart is pounding out of your chest.

“Did my dad take advantage of you?” she lowers her voice and you can tell she’s torn apart by the horrible notion.

“He didn’t,” you shake your head.

“Dumb girl…” Emma admonishes without any trace of resentment; what else can she articulate in these circumstances regardless?  

“I can’t believe I’m inquiring… Did you use protection?”

“No…It just happened…”

“Oh my God!” the concerned judgement pressures you to continue:

“It didn’t end well so it’s fair to assume we’re not in any danger of me becoming your stepmom,” your tone diminishes and she leans over to scold when The Joker passes by the opened door without bothering to peek inside your bedroom; you didn’t spot him but Emma did.

“I’ll be back!” she hisses and you’re confused at her desire to leave you.

“Hey, where are you going?”

She ignores your question and races after The King of Gotham, catching up with him at the end of the long corridor.

“Dad!” Emma shouts and he turns around.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?!” she interrogates the clueless Joker.

“I’m meeting Crane. Is he downstairs?”

“In his lab compounding the next batch of Cromyxillium for Y/N,” she fumes at J’s impertinence. “Didn’t you forget something?”

He seems puzzled and Emma is not tricked by his deceiving performance.

“My best friend is in her quarters, uncertain if she’ll survive the cancer treatment. Are you pretending she doesn’t exist?”

“Meaning?” The Joker sneers.

“I know you slept with her!” the accusation follows instantly. “Don’t deny it! How could you take advantage of her?!”

The Clown Prince of Crime straightens his shoulders, aware he can’t negotiate his innocence out of this complicated riddle.

“I did not take advantage of her! How dare you accuse me of such low move?”

“You didn’t?” Emma closes the gap between them. “You know she has a crush on you and she’s vulnerable; what type of man would prey on that?!”

J is not thrilled with the innuendos and cuts her off:

“She basically begged for some and I obliged out of pity!”

Emma slaps him and The Joker gasps, enraged she had the audacity:

“Do that again and I’ll neglect you’re my daughter!” he growls and the serious threat doesn’t faze her.

“Hurt her more and I’ll forget you’re my father! If you are indeed my father,” she emphasizes while stomping away towards the kitchen.

“I am your father!” J simmers at her impeccable strategy: Emma is retreating to a different corner of the house giving him the opportunity to choose.

Who the heck knows if she’s actually his?

One thing is undeniable though: they share the same despicable temper.

****************

You discern The Joker in the doorway and your body stiffens; you stare at the TV screen wishing he’ll disappear.

“Where’s Crane?” J analyzes Y/N’s IV pole.

You don’t engage so his crankiness emerges.

“I suppose you didn’t flatlined yet!”

“Nope,” you grunt at the provocative declaration that served its goal: you did reply to The Clown’s rubbish.

“Where’s Crane?”

“I heard you the first time and I’m not sure why you focus your energy on a useless interrogation. You know where my father is!”

“Where?” The Joker’s vile attitude can’t compromise for less than instigating his fling.

“Please take your stuff that’s firm now but will get saggy in maximum 20 years and vanish!” the poisonous remark makes him groan.

“What stuff?!”

You check him out glaring at his mid-section before dismissing his presence.

“That’s the rudest fucking criticism ever!” The Joker barks and Y/N crabbily indicates:

“It’s not criticism, it’s reality! Gravity’s a bitch! Mara won’t mind, won’t she? After all, you two share a very special bond: on today, off tomorrow, hookup next week, take a break next month. Such dreamy relationship!”

“Do you have more derogatory references to my private life?!” J grinds his teeth ready to unleash several atrocities your way.

“No, too busy dying…” you show him the needle in your arm. “I don’t feel the pain from the medication burning my veins; I’m used with my sickness, with the ups and downs. What I do feel is the pain of being taken for granted.”

The Joker is not a fan of the insinuated context.  

“You said no strings attached!” he stresses the lack of commitment consented the previous evening.

“You’re the one that came to me; I thought it meant you were accepting to be the center of my universe.”

J ogles the ceiling of Y/N’s bedroom and assembles a couple of harsh disclosures in his brain when her entitled smirk halts the project.

“You’re buying it, aren’t you?” you chuckle at his astonishment. “I’m just messing with you Mister Joker; who in their right mind would make you the center of their universe?! You have 10 seconds to leave, otherwise I’ll scream and security will come!” you shelter your head with the quilt so you don’t have to see his mug anymore.

No outpour of vexation from his part which is cool: means he bailed.

The blanket is slowly pulled until your eyes emerge; J hovers your face, pissed at the unwelcomed clash.

“I’m checking if you kicked the bucket; corpses are usually covered thus my dilemma.”

“Go away!” you advise. “Or I’ll scream!”

You inhale preparing to yell: The Joker didn’t predict you’d defy him and he swiftly kisses you in order to stop the sounds.

The door is cracked and Emma witnesses the scene, reckoning bizarre elements:

Her father holds grudges and was mad at Y/N earlier due to whatever happened yesterday; nevertheless he still kissed her.

On the other hand, you were definitely miserable after your escapade, yet you didn’t reject him.

Emma may not be informed about the entire story, but one detail is crystal clear: the future is far from being simple.

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