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blurredout10 · 1 year

Text

This Is Not A Date

Upgraded Connor (RK900) | Nines/ Reader fanfic

Rating: Mature

Wordcount: 5560

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Intimacy, emotionally curious nines, groping, smut, p in v sex, rough, kinda soft kinda not lil boi

Link to AO3 here or continue below cut:

You envied him, really.

Holding down a forefinger, the imprint fogging your phone screen, the victim of your poking quite literally quivered under your fingertips; a damn bloody dating app. Its cornered ‘x’ be the only good idea it gave you since its offered romantic prospects surely weren’t.

It shakes a violent plead of mercy, like the castle clown prancing joyously, a jingle bell on its neck collar shaking its head desperate no’s where you snapped two fingers for its forthcoming executions. Disappointing. As per usual.

But punishing the joker meant nothing if its replacement came from the same circus. You downloaded another app, pinky peach hearts pictured on a mobile symbol, your expectations had sunk passed the depths of hell.

You were no less given the attention, a text ping except for a joker's bell. Despite Detroit’s ever-growing gene pool with the doubling population of both humans and androids, your huddle of situationships barely satisfied you, lacking a spark you so craved. Matches appeased your eyes, descriptions void of icky pick-up lines, but with every other text you were sent, something scrunched up your face worse than the last.

“Why are people so boring?” you vented to the brioche-scented air, very much aware that fine-tuned android ears had spaced out. You’d grown to suffer alone.

He didn’t have to worry about bearing the weight of carried conversations, he was perfect. Bloody hell looked it too.

Nines envied you equally, but for the opposite reasons.

There hadn’t been a day's rest of his HUD, notifications running haywire like sugar-induced children running laps in a playground. But even little humans collapsed in exhaustion — you did a lot of that — and energy was spent, Nines’ string of leeching matches never tired.

“How tall are you?”

“Glad we matched! My place or yours?”

“How big did they make you?”

“Boring indeed,” silencing the utter mess of thirsty texts, he turned his attention back onto you, a croissant half-stuffed in a stun where you hadn’t expected an answer. Flakes stuck to your lip as you chewed, fluttering eyelashes moaning for you at the fill of French delectables. Your reactions amused him. People were boring, indeed.

You, however, were quite interesting.

Many months of a developed friendship had the both of you puzzlingly closer. Intending to better work efficiency, Nines fed into your friendly advances, but he hadn’t expected to actually enjoy your company. You two had clicked like polar forces, self-fashioned laws of physics in your own little world together.

Nines, surprisingly, was a pretty handsome wall to talk to. You enjoyed every little teenage-like whisper of gossip you shared, to which the android’s sharp ears picked up on the latest in the DPD. You’d grown accustomed to his partially stiff persona as he did to your free-spirited one. The moon to your sun, and he surely brightened in your gifted happiness. Kindred souls hand-in-hand, shoulder-to-shoulder, you were there for him, and he was there for you.

Nines scoffed at deleting another chat thread with a persistent match mate.

It started as a joke. ‘I can get more bitches than you,’ though you knew you were speaking out of your ass. You did not, dare you say could not get more bitches than a man who mastered being a man, despite being made plastic and steel.

Eyes blue like arctic winds, soft but intimidatingly focused in burning through flesh, his face sculpted unfairly to turn heads his way. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist that looked good in anything, even you could admit that. You were no stranger to getting asked about his romantic status.

The sheer size of him shifted uncomfortably in the little bakery’s equally little seats, shoulders swallowing the back of his chair as if his steel spine served a replacement. Discomfort, albeit making him stir again to lean forward with a frustrating twitch of brows, was still foreign to him; a bitterness that squirmed deep in his chassis. It had taken a while to identify and label the feeling.

Experience was the tutor in the study of emotional understanding. Experience was his guide to an emotionally coloured world and discomfort was by far the dullest, sluggish and unattractive hue he’d come across.

Nines heard an audible moan deep from your chest, satisfaction making you lick buttered fingers clean. Your palate cleansed except for pastry bits on your plate, following a trail to your lap, above your chest and still on your bottom lip. You, however, were that bit of colour that sagged his shoulders, the bit of colour that made him agree to silently accompany your weekly brunch ravishment.

His chest shook in a chuckle at seeing you no less a mammal in its habitat, wild and careless, waving away thrown looks at your poor table etiquettes. Hair frenzied in a mess, your posture slouched as if you owned the ground around you, you had a flair of contentment with everything you did. Interesting human, indeed.

“I wasn’t aware wearing your afternoon brunch was socially acceptable,” he quipped and your eyes widened, patting hands rubbing away crumbs that doubled his laughter. Croissant bits projectile in his direction, ultimately landing on the table and his lap.

Your phone announced itself, a text ping waking up your screen with the surprising icon of a newly downloaded dating app. Flat on the table, Nines perked in out of curiosity. Your spread grin was better at drawing his attention.

It could only mean one thing.

“I’ve got a date on Friday.”

-.—.-

It just happened.

Somehow in some weirdly fated way, you and Nines had your dates aligned. When you’d dress up for a dinner evening, he’d be suited up for one couple of roads down. The forgotten competition falling into a routine of complimenting each other’s outfits, you pointlessly fixing his collar and escorting either into another’s hands.

As expected, you’d gasp at the sight of his fitted dress shirt, threaded buttons pulled taunt to the rise and fall of his chest. Bigger biceps smoothed into the arms of his blazer, an icy pair of eyes that’d drop anyone to their knees; you watched appreciatively, blessing your eyes with what his dates would be so lucky to sit across.

Dang, he looked good. Who needed dinner if desert sat inches away?

And he’d eye you similarly, following the curves and dips of your dresses, a taunting hug of fabric an extension of your skin leaving little to the imagination, not that he had any. Loose silk that hung low, embraced your thighs just right, it was enough to have you smiling at your reflection. You liked to look like this, beautifully sexy, earning heart eyes from victims you’d never contact again.

Nines was effortlessly attractive, but you sure believed you were too, and confidence was already half the charm. There was a reason your dating race lingered neck-and-neck, people wanted him and people wanted you.

Still, you didn’t understand why serial dating was so damn hard.

Nines excused his admiring as a friendly reciprocal to yours and then you interlinked arms, trotting in pretty shoes to leave some date awestruck.

Struck, definitely, so much so they didn’t show.

“Fucking flunked on me,” all of your hours getting ready wasted for nothing. A dangling table light held you in spotlight, the universe laughing at your misery. The waiter dared to make a brief visit, scurrying away when you shot daggers, Phone glued to your ear, you lined a fork with distracted fingers, “I went through all that effort, for what?”

“He dodged a bullet,” Nines teased, a smirk leaking into your speakers. You groaned annoyingly, a tad bit hurt though you’d never mention it. Nines only chuckled, “are you not hungry?”

“Of course, I am,” your volume had diners eavesdropping, you lowered it, “but I’m not gonna sit here and eat alone like some… loner .”

An elderly woman leaned into your line of sight, doing little to mask her judgement.

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, straightening up subconsciously. Nines remained silent, a little something nagged you, “tell me you have better luck than me.”

He did. Unlike you, Nines was glad his date didn’t show.

“Unfortunately, detective, I have been cancelled on too.”

“No. Way.”

So, obviously, the next step pretty much carved itself out. You were both in need of a nice dinner, dressed to impress, and without your respective dates. Nines took no longer than necessary to join you, filling in the void of an empty seat as you did for him.

This happened again, from your silk dress to a casual getup, and again, from fancy dining to amusement parks. From black tie gallery visits to turtleneck picnic dates. You found it harder to believe Nines was getting cancelled on when he kept miraculously showing up.

It wasn’t a date, even if it always looked like it and you’d get ready as such. Painted lips smiled at him rather than some other guy, and neither of you was complaining about it.

Upon reaching the front of the queue to an ice cream cart, did someone first state the obvious.

“Here’s one for you and a drink for your partner.”

You stilled, “oh, we’re not- he’s not-"

“Thank you,” Nines took your waffle cone, giving it a tasteful lick before handing it to you. He walked away before you could protest.

“What was that?” You fell behind his longer strides struggling, Nines always found it amusing.

“What was what?” Pale flickers of his eyes were a tell of his naivety, “are we not partners?”

Work ones, sure. “Pretty sure she was calling you my date.”

For his advanced prototype kinks, he hadn’t preconstructed that theory. It was his turn to freeze, the ice of his irises solidifying the rest of his body, the only tell that he hadn’t fallen stasis being an amber spin on his temple. His abrupt halt had you bumping into his back with a grunt.

Though your complaints died into laughter at seeing him so… off guard.

“It’s not so bad,” you nudged him, elbow meeting his midriff, its proximity to his thirium pump regulator pulled a heavy huff through his voice. You winked, “you’d be lucky to score with me.”

Park attendees walked in their chatter, dogs let off their leashes, rolling in the glass with both furry flesh and synthetic plastic alike. Families shared inside jokes, children playfully screaming on the lake’s perimeter. Information coded everywhere in his scans, the broken grid of his deviancy reminding him of his freedom.

But he grew overwhelmed around you.

The past few mutual flunks hadn’t exactly been… mutual. The moment you’d text him your date was boring, or the guy left you hanging again, he’d be the one to disappear mid-mingling and scurry away to accompany you. Surely, that’s what it meant to be a good friend, right?

He wasn’t looking to replace your flings. He just merely wanted to be there for you. Be a light of colour as you had been for him so many times before.

Nines blinked erratically, warning ambers giving him away.

“Jeez, I’m not that bad,” you joked but he caught wrinkled brows of concern, following another lighter playful nudge on his arm. The contact teetered on the edge of overwhelming his processors.

Neither of you talked about it.

On came another Friday evening, a ping reminding you of a ‘Tomas’ looking forward to seeing you. Your dressing table mirror applauded the artistry of makeup whilst you merrily shoed up, throwing a text back via that dating app 2.0.

“I’m so sorry! Can we reschedule?”

“No show again,” you sighed, lying out of your ass, “how’s that android with the green hair doing for you?”

“I’m afraid she does not feel interested anymore,” also a lie, Nines had pretty much blocked the persistent woman.

Getting comfortable in the back row of your local cinema, which was supposed to be Nines escapade for the day, he passed you a popcorn bag, one he’d already bought for you. Lights dimmed at the title screen, Nines sneaked a glance at you, silently admiring the palette of your makeup. Nines liked it when you played with pigments, orange and purples finely painted on eyelids, bringing out the colour of your eyes. It pleasantly stimulated him.

“What?” Curving in a half-smile, you caught his ogling.

“You look lovely, detective,” it was pretty much routine at this point, to compliment you. Though this time, the air hung heavier, the smile never making it to his lips, his thirium pump straining for a beat when your vitals jolted the slightest.

He said it so sincerely; why did he sound so different? Your retort wasn’t given voice, a prickle of shivers meeting your extremities in a blush, you were glad the darkness covered for you.

You swallowed down. He cleared his throat. The movie went on. But the heat of your body, the subconscious leaning on his arm, close enough he could decode the product in your hair, the movie wasn’t plenty distraction.

And as if rA9 evilly taunted him, a couple cornered in the cinema audibly moaned, latched onto each like horny teenagers. You bobbed your brows at him, ‘kids these days’, but your skin grew hotter, ultimately arising a glitch or two in his system.

“The movie was great,” you gulped a smile when he walked you home, kicking lone rocks, eyes weighed to the pavement, “I guess, I’ll- I’ll see you.”

“Yes-,” he spoke too quickly, nodding, “I wish you a good night, detective.”

You blinked, “you too. Goodnight to you too.”

“Thank you.” His feet shuffled, “I shall go now.”

“Get home safe, alright? Goodnight, Nines.”

“Take care, detective.”

Awkward couldn’t even begin to describe it.

-.—.-

The competition was long gone, dating threads snipped weeks ago when you decided to delete the apps once and for all. Nines had pulled from the single scene even before you did, gulping down excuses as to why he decided to bail on all his prospects.

“No, we’re friends,” you’d say. Friends that helped each other down a couple drinks. Friends that slow-danced at New Jericho’s fancy dress party, to which Connor had invited you both. Friends that publicly teased each other with a flutter of eyelashes and hot heavy breaths.

“Since when were you two dating?”

“This is not a date!”

Said you at a party where Nines was your plus one, glued to your side like your extension.

It was getting ridiculous.

Eventually, neither of you spoke about seeing other people, just assuming the other would turn up. On paper, and even in person, you both looked pretty stupid in denial.

But one night, clinking afters with your department crew, did the dusted line between friendship and something more sharpen, something that made sense in the entanglement of your not-dates with Nines.

Officer Wesley was clear in the intention to woo you and have you in bed, playfully raking his gaze and hissing out a compliment. He leaned in closer, elbow atop the bar front with a daring smile. Admittedly, you missed the thrill of being a tease, slipping your tongue out to wrap around the straw but not enough to give him a show. Wesley caught on your game, and for the officer he was, he’d happily play cat and mouse.

But this time, things felt different and flirting with the dirty-blonde man felt wrong. Flirting with anyone felt wrong. And you couldn’t understand why.

You flickered in the RK900’s direction, only to find him already watching Wesley talk you up at the bar. A heartbeat thumped particularly loudly when he held your eye contact, leaning back in his booth whilst tonguing his straw similarly to how you had done it.

Fucking hell.

“So, how about that drink?” The officer reminded, thumbing at the display of bottles behind the counter.

Holy shit. You didn’t want to be like every other victim to the reeling of those darkened blue eyes, you weren’t like that.

With a double take, you caught that damn triumph smirk on his face, as if he could see exactly what that tongue did to you, being on the receiving end of it. Fuck him, you wouldn’t let him win.

Nines’ smirk faded as soon as you gave the officer your undivided attention, edging your barstool. Your touch crawling up his arm, soft lips leaning closer to his ear and speaking just out of earshot. It had the android inexplicably grinding teeth.

That was another thing about deviancy it had taken him a while to calibrate; urges. The urge to partake in conversation, or flee from it even, the urge to tease you to the point your cheeks were coloured tomatoes. It was this urge that had an added darkness looming over you, two icicles boring into the back of your head.

Sixth sense tied a thick knot in your throat.

Wesley cleared his throat too, sitting up straighter, “Nines, you ah - you good?”

The android didn’t look it, stalking over your shoulder like he’d no less bite into your neck and suck you dry in one go. But if this officer be a conquest you wanted to take to home, Nines would personally help you put on a show.

That’s what good friends did, right? Help each other?

He slitted fingers between chunks of your hair, pulling your head aside abruptly, the contact freezing you in place. You gasped as he lowered his mouth, speaking to the shell of your ear but loud enough for Wesley to pick it up, “we know you want to fuck our little detective, officer.”

Nines dragged his lips against heated skin, tongue peeking out to taste you. And just as he expected, his HUD blasted with paintballs of colour at the encoding, his pump fluttering when your lashes did so.

His other hand dragged up your waist, curving at the shape of your breasts and ghosting over your nipples. Lips replaced his tongue, and a trail of android saliva burned into your skin in his venturing down your throat. You took a staggering breath, forcing your eyes open, not realising they had closed.

“Your advances could use some work,” Nines spoke to Wesley, the man’s larynx bobbing at the sight of you melting.

Large palms curled inwards on your thighs, pushing them apart on display and kneading flesh through fabric. You held back a moan, biting down on the feeling of leaking arousal. God, when did Nines feel so good?

Nines smiled against your skin, lipsing down the expanse of your neck whilst you pretty much leaned to give him more room. His tongue prodded and lined the length of your passing artery, tasting your fastening pulse, you shivered under him. Even if rendered speechless, your body did the talking.

Wesley couldn’t decide where to look, Nines prompted further.

“You just need a little push.”

Fingers roughly pressing between your legs, one push of a massage that forced a moan deep from your chest, and Nines retreated, taking a large step back. Wesley looked half as shocked as you did, your jaw clenching in the realisation of what just happened.

Nines leaned carelessly on the bar, unbothered in leaving you aroused. That was his intention, no? To give you and your prospect a push in getting things going? Which is why he blinked confusingly when you shoved him, a frustrated scowl leaving your lips before you stomped out. Wesley sat glued to his chair, still recovering. Nines ran out after you.

Light patters of rain met his scalp upon catching up to you. You groaned when he called your name.

“You can’t just- do that!” You yelled, frustration grating your throat, showers dampening your hair, “you can’t just-“

The android remained still, attempting to understand you with a series of yellow circles.

“You can’t just touch me like that, Nines!”

But his touch had arisen positive responses, his brow furrowed in confusion, “why?”

You stumbled, eyes widening, “why- why? What do you mean why? You can’t go around touching up random people! It’s- it’s wrong!”

You weren’t random people. Nines processed for a moment, rain splatters snugging the fabric of his sweater against his skin. His scanners quickly caught your gulp, “did you not enjoy it, detective? I assumed he needed a little push.”

You blinked again, dumbfounded. Who gave him the right to put on a show for Wesley? What on Earth goes on in that metal brain of his?

“That’s not- I wasn’t going to go home with him,” water collected on your lashes, “I don’t want him.”

A wave of understanding struck him. He had misunderstood you and his ‘help’ stood void of reason. And recalling the way he stalked over you, no reconstruction software helped in justifying what he did, because the urge didn’t do it for you, it did it for himself.

The warmth of your chest invited him, kisses digging into the valley of your neck whilst he continually decoded the electrolyte contents of your sweat. It quite literally fuelled him.

Deviancy was a strange thing, though the only explanation for why Nines wanted to taste you again; he wanted to hear you breathe out his name, shaking with need, begging for more.

You shivered under water pellets, the silence weighing down each of your breaths. And hidden in the muddle of conflicted feelings, you craved Nines to touch you again, give you a warmth in frozen winds. Neither of you moved, and the ghostly burn of his lips longed for his return.

“I’m going home,” you muttered, straying away from his scanners.

He wasn’t your date. You weren’t together. But hell, if the assumptions of such didn’t make your heart flutter, you didn’t know what will. Besides, Nines was the embodiment of allurement, poised and perfect, what would he do with the likes of you?

Arms wrapped around to wade off the cold, teeth chattering, you blinked a few before turning away to walk to your car, the gusts of wind trying to push you back. Nines wouldn’t see you as anything more than a friend, you were sure of it, but your disappointment was cut short when a firm grip latched around your wrist.

He twisted you, swallowing a squeak with a collided kiss. The colours returned, blinding him tenfold in pretty pinks and bubbly yellows, prompting him to press a hand firmly on the base of your skull and keep you there.

The tension in your spine remained, but you quickly came out of shock and fervently returned the moulding of your lips with his, hand trailing the flex of his pecs, damp fabric squelching under fingertips.

The hand on your wrist migrated to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His tongue poked into your mouth, making you gasp at the added anatomy whilst he curled around ravishingly, wet sounds amidst the ambient splashes of rain. Both of your minds dazed, Nines blinking ambers at devouring you and you suddenly patting his chest with a light push.

He pulled back to let you breathe but returned mid-inhale, this time eagerly tilting his head to see what better fit. He made out the whisper of his name between kisses, responding with an approving groan.

“Nines,” you tried again, water running streams down your back as it poured heavier. You wondered if hypothermia was worth it, “nines, wait-”

He kissed you passionately, hoping to swallow the colour of lips and paint his innards as such. Though he eased, slowing to a stop and you panted onto his jaw. He took in the sight, mimicked tears streaking your blue eyeshadow and mascara under the rain, he fought the urge to prod his tongue in your mouth again.

He awaited your rejection. As you loved to remind everyone, Nines wasn’t your date, always the friend accompanying you instead. He’d be lying if he said watching you with other people didn’t bother him.

But you didn’t scold him, nor push him away in a fury. You smiled, a toothy grin that you failed to bite away and broke into a soft giggle, “we’re in the middle of a street,” you shook your head, leaning a fraction of an inch closer, “and I’m soaking wet.”

Nines pulled into a smirk, “you’re welcome.”

There, the cherry rouge of your cheeks, that was another part of you he wished to consume wholly, preferably with his tongue.

Everyone else felt wrong, but Nines felt right.

And upon passing the threshold of your home, Nines proved the feeling to be mutual by meeting your lips again, vocally praising you when your arms wrapped around his neck. Kicking the door shut, his biceps wrapped you tight, squeezing the air in your lungs and suctioning it straight into his chassis.

He stepped you back, tongue dancing with yours, his fingers tucking away wet hair from your face. You gasped as you hit the wall behind you, his hip bucking into yours with a noticeable erection.

Hands rummaged under clothing, your damp shirt peeling off your skin with a gust of cold, leaving your hairs on end. The foyer’s air, however, grew dense when Nines hungrily eyed your body. Calm blue of his LED blinked an amber and he suddenly threw you over his shoulder.

“Nines!” You shrieked, your protests dying as he caressed the back of your thigh. He carried you to your bedroom, bouncing you onto the mattress with a look that kept you frozen. You gulped in anticipation as he undressed whilst you were only stripped of your shirt.

“Your body temperature has dropped to lower ranges,” he knelt between your legs, clasping your wrists immobile and kissing you into the sheets. You arched into him, gasping at the skin-to-synthetic contact. His lips ghosted to tongue at your jaw, a wet pad of the plastic muscle running up just below your ear.

“I must heat you.”

“You’re as cold as they come,” he pulled back to meet your remark, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. Nines kissed your collar, the sound of compensatory breaths prompting him to lower to your bra, unclasp it and swirl a perked nipple with his tongue.

The moon slitted through blinds, painting him a blue that matched his temple. A warm breath breezed over your lower abdomen, fingers gripping the hem of your pants and shimmying them off. Wet skin made you sensitive to his touch, a tingling working overtime where he wrapped around your thighs, his lips hovering over your remaining underwear.

Of all your dating partners, specifically those you had slept with, only a handful of them had been androids, and it never made it passed foreplay. Whether that be inexperience or hesitance, flings would be done after a touch-up.

Nines had his fair share of sexual partners, learning what got people going and what fed his desires. But your unfiltered storytelling exposed you of kinks and likes that a curious android like Nines couldn’t help fantasising about.

What would you look like under him? How did you sound when forced a rolling orgasm to ripple through you?

A devilish smile made his lips before he took your undergarments in his teeth, lust-blown eyes watching how you shivered at the sight of him dragging them off. Wrapping around you twice as tight, he gave you a flat lick from slit to bud, pushing down your hips to stop your squirming. He was glad to find you were, indeed, soaking wet.

Having him right there, head of brown bobbing up and down, experimentally sliding his tongue in places you didn’t know existed, the sight of him had you biting your lower lip, trying to chew down an embarrassing whimper.

His tongue made circles around your clit, flickering left and right at a gasping pace. Your hands found his scalp, splitting his hair into sizeable chunks, holding on like the handlebars of a rollercoaster; and the way he looked at you, pupils swallowing icy blue into a predatory black, a shiver ran down your back, clenching your thighs against his biceps.

Wet muscle prodded into your slit, eliciting a moan. You almost squealed when his thumb continued to press patterns on your clit whilst tongue-fucking you into the sheets. You pulled at the root of soft, chestnut hair, and he only picked up the pace, having you pant in line with his pace.

You tipped over unexpectedly, crying out your orgasm with an abrupt push against his mouth. Nines crawled above you again, making you taste yourself with a deep, sharp kiss.

To see you like this, body quivering for his touch, an undertone of pink blushing your skin, his field of vision saturated in the colour of you. He wanted more. He wanted to see you come undone again, paint you an orgasm that would stain him for the rest of his android existence. Maybe he understood why Markus created art so often, maybe abstract understanding was closer than he realised. Nines wished for nothing more than to place you high on a pedestal or pin you against the wall for reasons other than framing you a painting.

“Every date you were bailed on,” he whispered confessions on your skin, gently lipsing your shoulders, “I cancelled mine to join you.” You stiffened under him, muscles taunt under his lips, he clarified, “I’d much rather have you than anyone else, detective.”

Of course. You were right. Nines wouldn’t get bailed on that often, it was impossible. You mustered up enough air to speak, “if we’re confessing, I deleted the apps weeks ago.”

Like the robot he was, he halted mid-kiss, a shifting yellow giving him away as it did back at the ice cream cart. You were both lying to each other, simply to be in each other’s company.

You added with a tease, “you don’t have to lie to score a date with me, Nines.”

“I thought I was ‘not a date’,” blue-greys accused you.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both pretty stupid then.”

Your smile brightened the room, despite moonlight barely filtering through your windows, corners bordering darkness. Nines mirrored the grin, dipping down to kiss you with a newfound heaviness in his chest. He pulled off his briefs, lips never leaving yours, and lined himself between spread thighs.

Your breath hitched at the stretch of muscle when he pushed in, barely giving you time to adjust and pushing in further until he bottomed out. Or at least you hoped he did, you weren’t sure if you could take any more of him.

Breathing in each other's pants, he rocked slowly, fingers bruising your wrists, lips bruising your neck. Nines grew desperate to see you in the colour of his lips, turning purples in broken blood vessels. His pelvis smacked again your clitoris, grinding an added stimulation, your head rolling back, moaning his name right into his ear.

Setting a brutal pace abruptly, swallowing squeals in messy lip-locking, Nines stretched you to the teetering line of pain and pleasure, the head of his cock driving into a sensitive spot that jolted your nerves in bliss. He rutted like an animal, resting his forehead on yours, fucking you with a harsh snap of hips, your legs could only hold on for dear life. He loved to see the dip between your brows, raccoon-faced from messy makeup. It made him twitch inside of you.

“You feel so good. You look perfect,” he praised, bringing two fingers under your jaw to prompt eye contact. You met his darkened expression, his rouge curl tickling your forehead. Thumb shaping your lips, he pushed in knuckle-deep, pressing down on your tongue. You gave an instinctive suck as he growled, “you’re mine.”

Every thrust brought about a new sound from your throat, and with your mouth forced half-open, there was little you could do to stop them. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling at a rolling orgasm, the sounds of sex driving you to buck into him as he did you.

You were desperate, needy, and what was left of Nines’ restraint was snapped. He fucked hard, muttering profanities as he edged closer, seeing you at the mercy of everything he gave you flipping him inside out.

He wanted to see you like this, again and again. His thumb subconsciously retracted his simulated skin, a ripple in your mouth that diverted your attention, and a glowing blue lit up from below the whites of his hand. An interface, the both of you realised. You moaned at his display of intimacy.

Nines staggered into you, losing his rhythm.

You looked good in blue.

“Come for me.”

And with sharp thrusts, you arched into a mind-blowing orgasm, limbs shaking as he continually dragged in and out to chase his own. He spilled with a throb, panting at the chance of painting you inwards as you did to him, and watched the slowed pumping of where the both of you connected.

Though upon spotting a trail of blueish white leaking out of you, his hips bucked involuntarily, eager for another round.

You moaned in euphoria, and that was enough for him to keep going.

It was no surprise Nines adored the sight of you decorated in his markings, growling in every painted colour you presented. So, the next steps carved themselves, and you had a great idea for your next date.

Painting.

#dbh fanfic #nines x reader #nines rk900 #rk900 #dbh smut #dates #detroit become human #dbh #need me some emotionally curious nines

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tutchando74 · 6 months

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Glitch X was an awesome thing to watch. Hope they do more on the future.

Aside from the very fun things that happened, from the announcements, I'm hyped for:

Murder Drones episodes 7 & 8, for obvious reasons, half of my fanfics are going to be dedicated to this amazing show.

Playground, that caught my attention by the designs, that are fucking incredible. I can't even describe how much I want to see it.

The lovers, wich is strange since I'm usually not into this type of thing, but it looks like it's going to be a really good show.

Gaslight District, that we didn't see much, but it was beautiful from start to finish. Can't wait to see more about it.

#glitch x #glitch productions #murder drones #playground #Gaslight District

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camilitamaellard · 25 days

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Camilita's Origin 🍭

so... let's begin with this jolly good history 83, before anything, the comic will be posted in @infant-infinity you can support me by following ^^ of course,I have to say that I got inspired by @tr85n GS fanfic! Thank you my dear friend for inspiring me every day and for being my friend, and of course to help me with the history (Infant Infinity name belongs to Treen and she gave me permission to use it)✨💖🥺🍭🍼👶

Camilita was formely a regular adult (until her brain magically got transformed into a baby brain) by then she ''admired'' all the park staff (especially Pops) she always watch them work, celebrating parties, as such, through her window, she even has handmade plushies from the park workers, Pops is her fave and she hugged the Pops' one all the time, she was such as childish as Pops, and she always wishes Pops being her dad, sadly, she got a lot of abuse by her father

(fun fact: her father was "Hurl hurl Butt" the main surfer from the RS episode ''catch the wave'' season 5)

One night, she decided to scape from her father's house, she carried her Pops' plushie and sneaks into the park, she couldn't believe she was really in the place she always dreamed to be (even tho she lived in front of the park, her dad hit and hurt her everytime he finds her ''fanaticism'' for them by stare them through the window) proud of herself, she falls sleep into the park's bushes sobbing of happiness, the next day, she wakes up by hearing Benson and Skips' voices, she runs away smiling and sees the playground, she gets even happier and go to the swings, everything was right to the world until she gets shocked by seeing a lot of parents with babies, she gets a panic attack and run crying with her eyes closed, accidentally she falls in the old Crash Pit, but a black portal appears, where it takes her to Death's house, who gives her an opportunity only if she can spend one day babysitting Thomas, she confessed that she doesn't want to live anymore, Death tells her that it's not ''her time'' to die, so he promised to give her a surprise she would love only if she can babysit Thomas for one day, she didn't confess that she hated babies, since he is a demon she took care of him really well. After she saw how happy is to be a baby, she tells Death that she doesn't want to live if she has to live as an adult, Death keeps his promise and takes her to Infant Infinity. Corp, where people can have the age they really want, she sees all the age regressors and smiles, she meets a fox named Rody and asked him while sobbing if he can turn her to a baby, saddly he can't do that, but he can replace her adult brain into a baby one and reduce her at least 2 feet, before she gets a baby brain (which it'll make her never talk again) she begged Rody (while huggin her Pops' plushie) to make sure that she wants to be adopted by Pops, he agreed, so she cries of happiness and gets ready.

Pops was washing his car Carmenita when suddenly a mail-girl seagull named Riley delivers her in a box, Pops tought it was the supplies he bought on internet, so he didn't read the II adoption contract and signed, the seagull congrats him and leaves, he was confused and say: ''Oh my, did she just congrated me?'' he opens the box and finds Camilita there hugging her plushie, with a note from II, which says that if she doesn't get the proper care and love, she will disappear from the universe. This obviously makes him whine, hugging her and saying: ''you are quite a cute little angel, aren't you? I don't want you to disappear from this world I'll make sure you have the love you never had'' starts laughing excited ''I will be a papá like papá!'' (obviously referred to Mr. Maellard) ''which name would I put you little pie?'' he asks himself as he stared at his car ''you are a girl like Carmenita, I think I will name you Camilita, would you like it? She starts cooing with so much joy, '' I think you like it right it my little dumpling?'' he boops her nose happily Everyone sees them kinda confussed, how an adult act like a baby? All their chatterings make her cry, Mordecai and Rigby runs towards them and gets surpriced they both say at the same time: ''woaah an age regressor!'' Everyone start asking what's age regression and the duo explains it to them, everyone accept it immediately and gets excited congrating Pops, who of course tells them what happened and show them the contract of II, they all get worried about her care, Benson makes a meeting (without Pops) and planned like a ''baby shower'' where everyone (especially Mordo and Riggs) gets hyped, everything turned ok until her biolocal dad arrives to the park after all these years, the adventure just begins for our park crew!

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xxwithlovefromfaexx · 1 year

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@stnaf-vn this is part one of my submission for the STNAF: Fanfic contest! I haven’t been writing as regularly as I’d like, so it’s been nice to get into some writing.

Warnings: dead dove, DO NOT EAT, touch starved/touch averse reader, unwanted filming swearing, stalking (cameras), voyeurism is hinted, just Friend ruining a good night by being creepy as hell jaskdbkfb

Notes: I do have a nsfw addition to this, which was what I was originally going to post. But since I’m uncomfortable posting it on tumblr, if you want to read the prt. 2 please message me first! That way I can check your bio before sending the google docs file :)

It had been a while since you indulged yourself in someone else's touch. Not even in a sexual light.

To say you were touch averse, it sounded like the right term. So long without brushing your hand against another's, the days of hugging Friend at the playground were long gone. Perhaps, after your last relationship, you had sealed the deal for yourself.

Reaching out for touch became too awkward, too uncomfortable. The very hairs on the back of your head stood up and trickled an anxious dread down your spine as someone pulled you in for a hug. Even accidental brushes piqued your heartbeat as you apologized profusely, eyes darting for an exit.

And yet, you could feel yourself becoming more and more desperate for it. Ironic, how the one thing you craved more than anything was also the one thing you couldn't stand to bare. You'd cling to your only pillow at night, because it was really the only thing left that kept the pangs of emptiness away. How sad, that you had resorted to living quite like this. If Friend saw you like this...Would he?

No, no...you couldn't put any more of your burdens on Friend. He already does so much for you. It was almost uncomfortable, the lengths he'd go to just to make sure you were happy. If you asked him to hug, to cuddle you...he wouldn't say no, would he? But...you weren't sure you were quite ready for it just yet.

That's why you were here today, with Friend, in the plushie aisle. He seemed upset that you'd buy a plushie rather than let him make one for you, but...walking into a store and buying a life-sized pillow is making your cheeks flush and your head hurt enough. He just had to insist on coming today, the day you'd been working up to, didn't he?

A mall trip. Just like you used to do, with you dragging a belligerent Friend with you as you watched movies and window shopped until your feet hurt.

“You know, I could make you one of these for free right?” You turned to Friend with a frown.

“I know, but...you already do so much for me. Hell, I have a tone of your plushies all stacked up in my room as is,” not to mention the way they all stared at you...it was kinda creepy, staring into their dark, looming eyes. Like looking into the other side of a camera. You wanted a normal, regular pillow. One that didn't feel like it was eating you with its eyes.

“They aren't even made of good quality material. And for this price? I can make a life sized you for cheaper,” He tutted, gently brushing your hand away from the price tag that you were eyeing up skeptically. You jumped at the contact, retracting your hand quickly as your eyes darted to his in shock before looking away quickly. He pulled his hand back sheepishly, but you couldn't help but notice the hurt that flashed in his eyes.

“Sorry, Friend,” you apologised quickly, looking away. That was uncalled for. And to Friend, of all people! You couldn't help but feel ashamed of just how disgusted you'd become-it was really only an innocent, accidental touch after all. This stuff should be the things that have you blushing over contact, not running for the hills! If you could just...feel okay about it, maybe the contact you so desperately craved wouldn't be so hard to obtain.

Of course, Friend wasn't hearing it.

“Hey, how many times have I told you, don't apologize like that. It was an accident, right? I'll try to be more careful next time,” He gave you a reassuring smile, yet...you couldn't help but remember the hurt in his eyes. Urghhh...maybe you were being stupid, trying to save him the trouble and buying it yourself. You knew you couldn't really afford it; the money you'd been saving up for this could easily be used on more food for the week, or your utilities bill...

“It's fine, Friend. I'm just, not used to that kind of stuff,” It was your turn to be sheepish. He just stood, with his hands crossed. He obviously wasn't budging on this one. Changing the subject before he could pressure you for answers, you tilted your head and rested your index finger on your chin.

“So, say you really wanted to make up for it...you said you could make one life sized plushie for your bestest friend in the whole world, right?” From your peripheral, you could see his steely resolve crack just a little, raising his eyebrow slightly.

“Yeah...?” You turned your gaze to him and gave him a sweet little smile.

“And you know I'll be forever grateful to my bestest friend in the whole wide world if you made it for me, right?” You couldn't contain your grin as the cracks went deeper, and he seemed to think it over for a while.

“Hmmm...forever grateful you say?” He pondered it. His face was sporting a joking grin for you, but his eyes, they held a red glint to them you'd barely seen before, in all the time you've known Friend. You couldn't help but feel unsettled; though you’re sure the most he's capable of is teasing you to absolute abandon at your statement and dragging you to get some of that “death by chocolate” drink he loved so much.

God, what had you gotten yourself into? You just smiled back at him, putting the groan you had on hold. Those drinks gave you a serious stomachache. But even as you are when buying coffee together, you weren't going to let him see you back down. No matter the fate you've just damned yourself to.

“Forever and always, love,” He always throws those sweet nicknames at you. Why not send them back?

That worked. A little too well, judging by the blush he was now sporting. Were those...heart eyes?

“Well, how can a guy like me deny that? I'll make sure to cash in on that gratitude, don't you worry,” You broke your facade to deadpan at the way he so merrily sing-songed that last part of his concession.

“Don't make me think I've made a mistake here, Friend” he just smiled at you and gestured to the stores exit, and you followed him out.

“Don't you worry. I'll be sure to make it something we both enjoy,” He replied with a chuckle to himself. You raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Your eyes had met something you couldn't tear yourself away from, no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh, I know exactly where we're going next,” He turned to look at where you were glancing and groaned.

“A haunted house, really? How great can it be if its shoved into the mall complex here?” You rolled your eyes at Friend's unimpressed stare.

“Come onn, you used to love this stuff! First one to yelp has to buy the other lunch?” He sighed but turned to the haunted house.

“Alright, alright...weren't you the one screaming for me over some stupid actor in a ghoul costume last time?” You glared at him, hurrying to catch up to his strides.

“Hey, no fair! That was genuinely scary!”

---------

When Friend came and dropped off your newest addition to the collection, you couldn't help but jump straight onto the couch, hugging it close. He said he was busy with some orders, so he could only really stay for dinner and then he'd have to go. You couldn't help it; your heart ached at the thought of him leaving so soon.

But you had fun, at least. It was nice to spend time with him, even if it was just to veg out on the couch and eat takeout pizza while you watched your favourite show. You just wish time could go a little slower. If only you could muster up the courage to ask Friend for a cuddle, or at least to feign sleepiness and doze off on his shoulder.

Alas, it was time for Friend to go. You waved him goodbye with a wry smile.

“Don't be a stranger,” You bid him. He raised an eyebrow at your comment, and you could see a cheeky grin forming at your words.

“When am I ever? You wound me,” You deadpan at him as he clutches his heart dramatically.

“Serves you right for holding my remote-control hostage,” You huffed, and he smirked.

“It's not my fault you have terrible taste in TV shows, sweetheart,” You groaned. God, how you regret ever feeling soft for this smug idiot.

“Hey, it's a good show!” He nods his head slowly.

“Uh-huh, yep. What was it called again?” Oh, that's it.

“Good night!” You slammed the door in his face. Heh. That'll show him.

You walked back to the living room, packing away the empty pizza boxes and turning the TV off. You didn't feel like watching anymore Unsettled Mysteries. As soon as you came back into the living room, it left as it something was missing.

You were alone, again.

You wish you could've told Friend to stay, if even for just a little longer. But you didn't want to bother him anymore than you already had. You looked over to the plushie, that sat in the middle of the couch. He'd been slaving over that thing for the past few days. You wondered how he even managed to get any sleep in, carefully sewing and stuffing it together in all that time. Geez, he really was a good friend.

And you'd just slammed your door straight into his face. Shit.

Sighing dramatically, you plopped down and pulled the oversized plushie into your lap. Seriously, this thing was huge. How the hell did he make it so perfect, and fluffy, and big? You pulled out your phone.

Hey, thanks for tonight. And the plushie. It's exactly what I wanted.

You sent the text, hesitantly hovering over your next words.

I hope we can hang out again soon.

No, that just sounded desperate. You only just hung out. And you've been hanging out constantly, to the point that Friend is missing his order deadlines.

Hope the customers aren't too mad with the order delays. godspeed, Friend.

You sent a cute little sticker and threw your phone to the other side of the couch, groaning as you pushed your head into the plushie. After smooshing your face into the plushie and wrapping yourself around the huge thing, you figured it'd be more comfortable in your bed. At least then you could sleep away all your problems with your newest addition to the collection.

Grabbing your phone, you walked into the bedroom and balanced the plushie and your phone in one hand to turn on the light with the other. Your phone buzzed as a message from Friend popped up. Walking to the bed, you sat down and hugged the plushie tight, opening the message.

You sound so formal, I'm not your mum lol.

That asshole-! Another message popped up, before you could take your words back.

No need to thank me, really.

You rolled your eyes. Now who's the one being formal?

You know I'll be there whenever you need me.

You dwelled over that last text, staring at the phone. Maybe you could just ask him to be on call with you while you cuddled your plushie, right? It wouldn't be that bad, and he could still get his orders done...he didn't need to know you'd be in your head, imagining him in your arms instead of another one of his cuddly creations.

The vibration of your phone jumped you out of your thoughts.

Sweet dreams, sweetheart <3

How did he know...? Ugh, never mind. You sent him a heart back, that's all he gets for such a cheesy exit line. Dropping your phone by the other side of the bed, you rolled over to your side. Your newest plushie, Friend 2.0 (you'd decided), squished even closer to your side.

You found yourself staring deep into those doll eyes. You could never tell Friend, but it had always unsettled you, the eery stare his plushies gave you as you went about your day, It felt like, like they were...watching you. It sounded stupid. So, so stupid. But the more you gazed into its eyes, the harder you looked...

The eyes were dark, black, just like any other teddy bear eyes. Only, the pupils on this one looked strikingly familiar, right in the middle. Maybe that was a trademark of Friend's creations? You'd always been too creeped out to look closely at the plushies. No, these ones looked a little different. They were reflecting you. And if you peered closely, you could see through the dark iris and in the middle, there, right where the pupil should be there was a...lens?

Was that really a lens?

No, no, it couldn't be.

You reached for your phone, frantically flipping it over to inspect the camera lens of your phone.

Then you looked to the plushies eyes, staring right back at you.

Then back to the phone.

They were almost...identical.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, no, no, no.

Your stomach fell to your feet. You felt like puking.

Or maybe, you felt like running out of the bedroom and out of your apartment and out of your town.

Maybe it was Friend's supplier? Maybe Friend simply didn't know?

But Friend made these, just for you. He'd sewn each of these eyes in with loving care. He did with all of the plushies he gave you, just like he’d remind you.

Sewing each, and every hidden camera into the plushies, your plushies, each with loving care.

#STNAF #OOOH this one took me on a ride #I looovee writing yanderes but ooh it takes a hot minute #I'm really happy with how this turned out though!#This old blog of mine was hitting the dust #literally #I haven't used it since I was like 15 yeesh #STNAF Friend #friend stnaf #stnafgame #I feel like this is kinda ooc for Friend #his cameras are fbi level hidden #only the best for his sweetheart <3 #STNAF fanfic contest

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pinkykats-place · 1 year

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BakuDeku being childhood friends

AO3 Fanfic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked on titles are mine.

Some contain mature content.

Read Tags. Check Ratings.

Art work not mine. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/524739794086470815/

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

Summer Days by MajestyTime

Summary: Five of the summer memories Kacchan has of Deku plus the one summer memory that defines their future together.

(In which Kacchan can't stop himself from gravitating towards Izuku.)

✧ ✧ ✧

"Why did you call me?" Izuku asks. It feels like they're teetering on the precipice of something that could be greater than the sum of their parts. Kacchan breathes in slowly, then takes the dive.

"Because I wanted to."

"You...wanted to?" Izuku repeats, like he's tasting the words on Kacchan's tongue to understand him better.

"Yeah." Kacchan presses his cheek into his pillow, sinking into the softness. "I miss you."

One Shot | Post UA Graduation

Rated - Teen & Up

Kiss Me? by beans2000

Summary: Years after Katsuki left Izuku in the dust as a kid he's reminded of the gesture of affection that had his palms sweating and heart pounding when Izuku used to do it for him when they'd get scuffed up on the playground: kissing his band aids after patching him up.

Fast forward to the present and the dumb nerd is just going around offering up kisses to any old extra in their class except Katsuki and it's driving him insane. Despite him pushing these feelings within himself as deep as possible, it stings deeper than he could've ever imagined.

aka: izuku's love language is kisses

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

turn my bed into a sacred oasis by nikkiRA

Summary: Three times bakugou katsuki sneaks into midoriya izuku's bed.

— — —

"Go to sleep, stupid Deku."

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

jump then fall by nikkiRA / @aravenlikeawritingdesk

Summary: During a storm, Class 3-A end up playing a version of the newlywed game, except Deku and Katsuki get roped into playing, even though they're not dating.

They're really good at it.

“It’s cute that you know so much about each other,” Ashido says. Bakugou curls his lip; he locks eyes with Deku, and he feels his cheeks heat up at the happy smile he gives him.

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

the union of king explosion murder and all might junior by menulis

Summary: “Now, you know what we gotta do?”

Izuku sniffled, bottom lip quivering. He shook his head from side to side, tousling green curls. He really didn’t have a clue what they had to do.

“What—what do we have to do, Kacchan?”

Kacchan rolled his eyes, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. He returned his gaze to Izuku, and opened his mouth.

“We have to get married, duh.”

— — —

Izuku’s special-est person—Kacchan—demands to marry him one sunny afternoon in preschool. Izuku is more than happy to!

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

Oh, He’s Back by TheMoonIs

Summary: It was a normal day for Izuku Midoryia. Everyone went through their usual classes and nothing was out of order. His birthday was only a few days away. Everything was happy and he was content. Until of course, he got a call from an unknown number.

……..

He decided it’d be the perfect time to piss his friend off.

“Hello?”, he asked, smiling as Katsuki turned to glare at him.

“Izuku”, the voice said, dark and low. Izuku? Did he know this person?

His once smiling face turned into a confused frown and his eyebrows knit together. Katsuki watched his changing expression and made everyone shut up with only a fierce look.

“Um, I’m sorry. May I ask who’s speaking?”

“It’s me, my boy”.

Complete | 4 Chapters

Mature Content

First Crush by @silverynight

Summary: “You’ll like our home, Deku.”

Before Mitsuki can correct her son and tell him Izuku is not going to sleep over, little Katsuki turns around, looking very serious and determined before bowing in front of a confused, but amused Inko.

“Thanks. This wasn’t a shitty gift at all,” the blond kid says, pointing at Izuku. “This is maybe even a cool gift. I like him and I’ll keep him.”

One Shot | SFW

Coupon for a free kiss by ikratkaya

Summary: When Bakugou had his 6th birthday, his mother invited Izuku to his small party. This is when Izuku gifted him a bunch of coupons for free wishes.

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

#bakudeku #fic recs #childhood friends #ao3 bkdk #ao3 fic recs #bakugo x midoriya #bakudeku fluff #bkdk #bkdk fic rec #ao3 fic rec #ao3 bakudeku recs #fanfic recommendation #bakugou x midoriya #archive of our own bakudeku #bakudeku recommendations #bakudeku fic rec #2023

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ladythornofrivia · 1 year

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Endless Reds and Blues

Here's the link for the synopsis and the chapter list) Pair: Kakucho x Reader

(Warning: Inappropriate jokes and dialogue (if you're under 18, I'm sorry but you can't read this)

Author’s Note: This is my first post on writing a fanfic. I’m still not confident on writing here because of plagiarism or that it might be not good enough, but I’m still trying my best to write. Enjoy this chapter. (Note: Report if someone decides to steal the synopsis and my story. And notify me. Thank you) ❤️

Prologue: Meeting the Girls

Next Chapter

It is natural for men to be in a finery and elegance to withhold power bestowed upon girls. Girl after girl after girl, young men never fails to find way to collect their gazes and hearts at every turn, at every chance they get, whether at parties, malls, or even school. Hearing ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ never cease to stroke their ego, their established pride grew stronger, and their beauty hadn’t received a slight streak of conflict.

In their world, there’s no such thing as seriousness. ToTenjiku, school is all but a playground. A playground to which where they received undying admirations and compliant from their female classmates—privileges is all they’ve gained. No troubles come to them.

*~~*~~*

“That last girl we saw is cute,” Ran said, violet eyes twinkled with delight under his hooded lids, strutting down the halls, where girls have the full view on the open doors and class windows, unlocking them for a stable glimpse of their lithe figures, muttering with a tone of sharpness despite their inside voices activated. “Big tits hiding under a uniform, too.”

Bonten had the advantage of captivating their hearts over a millisecond, also been favored and vouched—won by the hearts of their classmates and strangers alike. More so, they’ve captured the hearts of the principal and assistant principal. This is Tenjiku's way of getting out from trouble.

“That last girl you talked to has a severe case of anger issues,” Rindou said.

“How can you tell?” Ran waved his hand at the girls bypassing them.

“Because she caught her boyfriend cheating on her—threw a glass at him and the other girl. Guess you didn’t see her hands, they were filled with deep scratches.”

“She told me it’s from gardening.” With Ran’s lips, he formed it into a childish pout, his sharp, angular cheeks drawn forward with a round bump.

“It wasn’t gardening. Who the hell has time to take care of plants? Only old people do that crap when they’re bored.”

Ran hissed in disbelief. “Ah, that’s too bad. Maybe I could bring out the best of her bad side in the bed.”

“Good luck with that. She also has an unbreakable attachment during the relationship.”

Behind the Haitani brothers, Sanzu, on the other hand, is uninterested with their conversation. He wished that a piece of pill would swallow his sobering consciousness up and be as careless as he always has been, never minding what others think of him. Alas, he has no pill to fill his void at the moment.

“I can be that kind of man,” Ran answered, his lips drawn into a smirk.

“Bullshit.”

“I swear, I can do better than Casanova.”

Rindou’s eyes squinted. “You don’t take these things seriously except sleeping in your bed on days end. You overslept for more than eight hours. If anything, you’re more romantic on committing to your bed than with a bunch of girls.”

“That was ONE time,” Ran reasoned. “Although I love my bed.”

“You never let anyone go near your bed. You often pushed the girls away whenever they go to your bedroom when we invited them at the party.”

“It’s expensive!”

“You made them sleep on the couch after sex.”

“It’s a ¥300,000 bed!”

“You never give them blankets and pillows. And you made me them leave during midnight.”

“I love my blankets and pillows, too!” Ran’s eyes glazed, wounded by his younger brother’s words.

With his right hand, Rindou placed it onto his forehead, tightened with annoyance. “Whatever. I’m really starting to think who’s the mature one out of the group.”

Within seconds, his wounded expression changed when Ran winked at the girl with pigtails; she squealed with her hands clapped at once and pressed it hard against her chest with a blush caressed her sullen cheeks.

Rindou scoffed, rolling his violet eyes, the same eye colors like his older brother’s. “Don’t bother. That girl is a stalker.”

“Since when do you know shit about personal information from girls?”

“Since day one,” Kokonoi, with a shining and silken hair slipped past onto his shoulders, his thumbs typing onto the phone screen.

“I thought you’re invested with money,” Ran answered, baffled. The girls’s voices grew louder inch by inch.

“I am.” Kokonoi swept his silver locks aside. “But I do my personal time on investigating people at this school on my end.”

“Where are we heading again?”

“At the cafeteria. They’re selling boss’s dorayaki.”

“We got to hurry. Boss will be angry if we didn’t get what he wanted,” Kokonoi added.

“He’s always sleeping,” Ran commented.

“That’s Mikey’s job. You know that Mikey hates classes, but loves sleeping during class. He recollects his energy,” Kokonoi replied.

Ran guffawed. “Good thing the teachers didn’t give a shit about it.”

Girls swarmed around them, trying to reach and touch their clean and customized uniforms with their palms. Unfortunately, their daydreams on reaching close to them when the girls pushed others, going onward to Bonten with ultra confidence embodied on their walks and wide smiles from ear to ear.

Heels clicked as the group of three girls make their way to Tenjiku, who were parting a sea of crowd to get their boss’s special request for lunch. Three girls shoved the spectators aside with a slight sounds of complaints coming from other admirers. Tenjiku managed to grab every single lunch they could get. Trouble from being late—stalling from girl to girl, flirting and showering them with compliments. Boys had it rough on the sideline, watching Tenjiku gravitate girls towards them with just a look on their eyes. Other than girls, Tenjiku had their own end of shenanigans, but it was the last thing they need at this moment.

Crowds are closing in, their adoration of screams submerging, deafening their hearing. Though the girls who pushed other aside went at Tenjiku’s direction.

“Sanzu, Kakucho, get Boss’s favorite drinks, too. We’re going to be stuck here for a while if someone doesn’t get his full set grub.”

Sanzu sighed. “Kaku,” he said.

“Way ahead of you,” Kakucho said with eyes lowered at the ground, marching ahead without anyone detecting him and Sanzu. After all, Haitani brothers and Kokonoi are the popular members of Bonten.

“Ran, its so good to see you,” the girl said, Akari, her eyes glimmered in flirtatious piercing behind her animated smile.

“Good to see you, too,” Ran said, somewhat awkwardly stiff.

“When are you going to have the next party?” Akari twirled her hair.

“Your last party is so fucking cool,” Akari’s friend, Noriko beamed.

“You’re so handsome in person, Ran,” Kaori added.

Akari sent a glare at Noriko’s direction. Noriko stayed quiet, backing in two steps.

“I was wondering if you’re going to let me know about the next party. So that,” Akari went near towards Ran and slithered her index finger, lining it downward on his chiseled chest beneath the suit, “so we could have some alone time.”

Ran’s face scrunched, leaning his upper body backwards from her slithered touch.

“I appreciate if you try to keep the fingers to yourself,” Ran advised, his voice unsteadied for a second but recollect back to his usual calm self.

“Oh, I’ve been keeping fingers to myself. I kept busy, thinking about you. You’re all I could think about, me and you at your bedroom, talking so sweetly to me.”

“You mean his dick and his money?” Rindou intruded, standing beside Ran.

“I’m sorry I don’t ever recall on asking you to talk, puny mushroom.” Akari crossed her arms, and with a tilt on her head angled on the side, she gave Rindou’s sudden appearance with pure disgust in her eyes, despite wearing a sweet smile etched on her lips.

Rindou’s brow twitched.

Ran cleared his throat. “I appreciate the compliment, but as of right now, we’re in a hurry to grab lunch for my friend.”

In an instant, Akari wrapped her arms around Ran’s right arm, hugging it against her chest, tight as an iron grip.

“We could make time. Starting now. Just you and me, together, talking about us.” She released a half-hearted giggle. “We’re going to be best of friends, or whatever you wanted me to be as.”

Rindou pushed her back with brute force, and watched Akari fell back on the floor with a squeak slid from her shoes.

“Ow—hey! What the hell?!” Akari said with a sharp hiss. Her shoulder pained from a sudden push.

“Stop touching my brother,” Rindou warned. “There’s a rule to anyone who shouldn’t touch a Bonten member or going near us by 3 inches.”

“You know what that means, don’t you?” Kokonoi dared Akari.

“Bitch,” one shouted from the crowd. “Respect their space!”

“Get off of their space!” Another voice shouted from the thickened crowd.

The crowd roared with agreement, chanting.

Akari, who drew a long sigh onto her pain, gave one last look on Rindou before scurrying from the cafeteria with her friends following her. The chanting soon died down and went back onto their lives.

“It turns out she’s nothing but a cheap knock-off, dubbed herself as a rich girl,” Rindou said.

“How do you know?”

“She stole some her parents’s money from the bank account from winning a lottery,” Kokonoi informed, scrolling onto his latest smartphone.

Rindou and Ran whipped their head fast. “They won the lottery?!”

“Since two weeks ago, their fortune is around the cost of 900 million yen.”

“And none of her parents noticed her stealing their shit?” Ran exclaimed.

“Akari blamed it on her relatives. Apparently she declared and dubbed her relatives as poor and desperate. She also claimed that she got a job that has a high-paying salary. She never got a job.”

The Haitani brothers drew their breath in.

What a fucking nightmare to be with.

“Well, that explains why she acted so confident,” Ran said.

“Let me ask you this question. Did you fuck her at our last party?” Rindou asked.

“Never,” Ran answered. “I was at the bar the whole time with Kakucho, serving up time for other ladies who are demanding my attention. Besides, I don’t recall on fucking her silly. I’m completely sober all night at our last party.”

“Was she at our last party?” Rindou whipped his head, asking Kokonoi.

“I don’t think so. I didn’t see her and her friends’s names on the list.”

“So, she decides to talk big on us,” Ran concluded.

“On you,” Rindou emphasized.

“What a joke. She doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Akari’s usually a quiet girl. What made her changed her alterego?”

“Her parents’s winning lottery.”

They all laughed. By then, they were still waiting up on Sanzu and Kakucho.

“What’s taking them so long?” Ran scratched his head, then fixing his usual hairstyle back again in gentlest caress, flicked his wrist to check the time on an expensive watch he bought two days ago.

“Dunno,” Rindou said. “We should catch up onto them. You know how girls are, they can be real rowdy, still trying to block our way.”

“That’s what we get for being pretty,” Ran said with a cheeky smile.

Kokonoi was the first person on heading straight towards Sanzu and Kakucho. They marked and registered the school’s map in their minds. They walked around school several times—in the matter of their routine—to fill the girls’s heads with cloud nine. This should be a cinch to them.

Little did they know, there was a real challenge lurking at their path, soon to divulged, to be crossed with their world with someone else’s.

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thirdmagic · 23 days

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many many years ago, around 2014-ish i think it was, there was a tumblr trend of tagging posts of your favorite female character with 'my queen', it was like all the range. and i participated in this trend, bc my favorite girls were in fact queens to me, and i was sure this was the case for many others. but i began to notice certain things about this trend that kinda bothered me and i couldnt quite articulate until someone i followed then made a very well writen rant about it, and i dont remember the exact wording but something that struck me about it was a line that was kind of like "i see you tagging posts about [female character] with 'my queen' and then talking in detail in your tags about [male character] going out to eat waffles', or something to that effect- i dont remember the exact wording but in this hypothetical scenario, the person was describing the tags having a very whimsical and fun scenario full of imagination and affection, and the exact one was very silly but fun. and most of all, a fully detailed scenario, indicating how much the person thinks about this character, without needing to say 'wow i love this character', a level of attention starkly contrasting with the one given to the ostensible-queens who got nothing more than 'wow she is so amazing'. and they were quite angry and spiteful about it and said something to the effect of tagging male characters with 'my kings' in a sarcastic way, kind of to convey that it read to them as more condescending than anything.

it has been ten years, and though the slang and specific fandom trends have since changed, i still remember it, because it still feels relevant, and i still feel the spirit of that post now. we have advanced enough that on a wider scale we understand that its not a good look to hate every woman in a story or treat all fictional women as if they are out to get you and your faves, personally, but we have not quite reached the point where fandoms at large actually seem interested in these stories and characters. right now it manifests in 'mean lesbian backgroung character in your m/m fanfic', or how everything everyone has to say about any girls in a story is to yell 'lesbians!!!!' and move on with no interest or comment or desire to actually do anything with these characters.

like, if fandom is a playground, then male characters are the dolls who get actually played with, while the female characters are the dolls everyone just kinda look at and keep untouched. and while i can't say i prefer it when i was a baby youngling in fandom and all the dolls i liked had really hateful and mysoginstic language slung at them, it's not especially fun either when everyone says they love these dolls but nobody actually wants to play with them, especially if you do, and you have lots of games in mind for those dolls that nobody really wants to participate in, and when they continue to insist that they love these too even though they clearly are neutral at best it really kinda drives you crazy.

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pinkboxess · 1 month

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ruminations on fanfiction

I have been all happy today because of all the requests I got, so I'm thinking about all the reasons I love fanfic, and all the happiness it brings to my life, yada yada yada.

So, I majored in English, and for the first half or so of my undergrad, I planned to go into the publishing field. (This will be relevant, I promise.) I wrote things that I submitted places and tried to get published. Some of them were accepted and some of them were rejected. I took editing classes and volunteered as an editor for my school's literary journal.

And I didn't like it.

I realized after a little bit that the more "advanced" I got into that field and that world, the more I disliked it. It wasn't what I was best at, either. I never really got the hang of making good editing decisions (as in, deciding whether to accept or reject a submission). Trying to cater my own writing towards what publishers wanted was also less than enjoyable.

I love, love writing, so it's not that I regretted my major or lost the passion or anything. But I like writing the most when it's not going to be evaluated. Either when that's my own writing being evaluated by a publisher, or me as the editor evaluating someone else's work. Those are important jobs that I don't want to dismiss as inherently immoral or something like that-- if you're an editor, that's awesome. But it just wasn't for me. I always liked people's pieces too much or not enough, depending on whether it spoke to me, personally. It was too hard to be objective. I didn't really like trying to be objective.

So I don't write stuff to send to publishers anymore. For one thing, I'm in grad school now in a different field, and for another, I just really don't enjoy myself as much when I'm writing a piece that makes my brain go into that mode of "this has to be good" in a literary sense of the word good. At some point in my life I might like to go back to that kind of writing. But for right now, it's just not enjoyable, and since writing is a hobby for me, I don't make myself try to sit down and write something that I'm not excited about.

But I write loads and loads of fanfiction because fanfiction is so freeing. It's the epitome of self-indulgence. It's like this giant playground where I can write about vulnerable concepts like sexual desire and body image and aging and relationships. I mean, personally, I don't see myself writing sex scenes in anything except fanfiction, especially ones so detailed and intended for enjoyment.

But it's really like you're writing in this separate little safe bubble where you can do anything you want. The only feedback you receive is positive (I mean, just personally, I've never received a hate comment, so I can say that.) You can write works that are as short or as long as you want. You can post every day or once a month. You can always write the exact same trope, or you can do something totally new every time. And whatever you write, there will probably be an audience for it.

It's writing just purely for the sake of enjoyment. You're not trying to be good. You're not trying to pen a masterpiece. You're not submitting it for approval-- instead, you're posting it to be enjoyed freely, with zero barrier to entry. And that's what prevents me from losing motivation. I don't get tired of it, because it's always fun, and if anything about it isn't fun, I just don't do that.

I am so glad I've found some people in one of the corners of the internet who read my fics <3 it's such a fun hobby and distraction and escape and therapy substitute. Thank you for feeding my hyperfixation/special interest/obsession.

#see even if it wasn't already evidence that i'm a writer #the length of this post proves it #i never can be brief can i

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saiilorstars · 4 months

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Ch. 31: The Scamander Family

Fandom: Harry Potter (Hogwarts years 1-7) Pairing: Draco x OFC

taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @foxesandmagic @kmc1989

Story Masterlist // Romina’s Masterlist

Fanfic • Ao3 • Wattpad

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

Hogwarts was bursting with all types of rumors following the escape of Sirius Black. It was almost hilarious to learn the ranges of those rumors. Romina had her fair share of laughs only minutes after she was let go from the night wing. After the night they'd gone through (the part they knew about anyways), Madame Pomfrey had kept her, Hermione, Ron and Harry for a night of observation and one "reconstruction".

Now that Romina was free, she did the only sane thing that anyone in her place would do: go to her Common Room and shower. She was eager to put on fresh clean clothes and fix herself up. After all, exams were over and now all they had to do was just lounge about. And for some reason, she felt lighter than she had in a very long time. She was on her way to the library to return the books she'd checked out for the exams when she bumped into Harry. He didn't look too well and upon asking the reason, she found it hard to keep her cheeriness up.

"Poor Lupin," she put a hand over her chest. "He's just going to leave like that?"

"Well, according to him, somebody let it slip that he was a werewolf," Harry rolled his eyes heavily. The whole conversation with Lupin was irritating because it was all due to someone's bitterness. "As if we don't know that it was Snape."

Romina had no doubt about it too. Snape had been beyond livid that Sirius had escaped and pinned the blame on Harry, despite the fact that he wasn't the only one involved in the whole thing. "I'm sorry. He really was the best professor we had for DADA. Definitely the most interesting one."

Harry could only sigh. There was nothing they could do for Lupin now. "Do you want to have breakfast together? Ron and Hermione are already there."

"Nah, gotta return these." Romina gestured to the books in her arms. "Then afterwards, I promised Arden and the group I'd go to Hogsmeade this time. You know, willingly and in a good mood."

Harry half smiled as she bid him goodbye. She was only a few steps away when he called her name. She looked back, eyebrows raised as she waited to hear what he had to say. Harry had no idea how to broach the subject because last time, they didn't exactly talk so much as snap at each other.

"You and, um, you and Malfoy—what's that about?" He supposed that was the best question he was going to be able to form. He watched the confusion flicker across Romina's face as well as the brief, and not so subtle, shift in her stance.

"What do you mean?" she asked, half shrugging her shoulders. "He's...him and I'm...me?"

Harry long knew her tricks to avoid the subject. She used them on the school playground to outwit other students. "Rom," he said sternly.

Romina sighed and turned completely to face him. "What do you want me to say, Harry? I just fixed his nose," she insisted. "Hermione broke it and I didn't want him to go blabbing to Snape." You didn't even think about that you liar. Romina cleared her throat and looked away.

"He wouldn't have," Harry said with absolute certainty. "Because Malfoy could never stand to let people know that he was bested by Hermione Granger, a muggleborn."

Point to Harry.

Romina shrugged again, less confident with her responses. "I just didn't want to take the chance, okay?" Liar. She hadn't once thought about the consequences Hermione could have faced for her action but the realization was scary enough and she definitely wasn't looking to get more questions from Harry.

"Rom, you and I, we've known each other since we were seven...I love you like a sister…"

Romina smiled lightly. "I feel the same. You're my brother."

"Okay," Harry nodded, hoping that this would soften the blow of what he was going to ask next, "So, keeping that in mind, you know, that I just want to make sure that you're okay."

"Yeah, just like I want the same for you."

"Right," Harry said, agreeing, taking a couple steps towards her. "And I get that being in Slytherin means you have to see Malfoy a lot more than we do—an act that I thank you for your service." Romina's lips stretched into a wider smile that could soon become a chuckle. "But, I mean, with everything that's happened, everything I've seen, you and Malfoy...you're not...you know…?"

Romina laughed on cue but absolutely nobody could take away the insane heat that rushed up to her face. "Harry Potter, what the hell kind of question is that?" She laughed so easily that Harry could believe her. "Absolutely not!"

"You sure?" Harry had to ask her again. "Cos, Rom, you know that wouldn't end well. He's not a good match for you."

Romina shrugged her shoulders in a careless manner, convincing too. "Good, because I wasn't looking for one with him. I don't under—I don't understand. You got all this just because I fixed his nose? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

It did sound ridiculous and Harry himself felt very ridiculous, which was why he wanted to quickly move from the subject. "Sorry. I'm...I'm sure you're right. It's not even worth talking about."

"Yeah," Romina nodded at him. "Exactly."

"I mean, you're better off dating Angel Paes."

"Oh God, you know about that?" Romina brought a hand to her face in embarrassment.

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Hermione pointed it out."

"Dammit Hermione!"

"He's loads kinder and, you know, I would tolerate him," Harry said with an innocent face that made Romina laugh.

"Don't even go there! He's never actually made a move and, you know, I don't really see him that way either!"

"You never know," Harry said, beginning to tease her. She suspected that it would become his new game with her.

Romina rolled her eyes. "Not you too. Stop it, Harry Potter, or I'm going to hex you."

"I'm going back to the Dursleys soon—a hex sounds really good right about now."

Romina had no disagreements there. "How about we find something to calm them down before you go home?"

"Sounds like a date—don't tell Angel, though!" Romina groaned while he laughed. Harry preferred this type of atmosphere between them. "I'm done, I'm done," he promised her a moment later. "Sorry."

"You're on thin ice," she warned him. "This entire conversation has put you in quite some danger."

"I had to do it," Harry shrugged. "But no more, promise. I won't ask about you and Malfoy again, I got it."

"Good," Romina said, half smiling. "Because me and him, that's not...that's never happening." She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Harry wholeheartedly agreed with her and started off for the Great Hall.

Romina's lips would slowly purse as the conversation replayed in her head. When she felt fresh new heat, she shook her head. "No," she told herself, turning for the library, "Absolutely not." She made it her mission to solely focus on returning her books then meeting Arden.

~ 0 ~

After coming out of the library, Romina was in a rush to get back to the common room for a quick change of clothes. She didn't want to go anywhere in the uniform. She reached for the hair tie holding her messy bun together as she came down the stairs of the dungeon to get a head start on changing. She had just yanked the hair tie when she crashed into someone on the last step.

"You're making a habit out of this, Oswell!" Draco snapped. He rubbed his forehead after the stumbles of the crash.

"You have eyes too, you know! Use them!" Romina crinkled her nose when she felt the dull ache on her forehead as well.

"Good advice, you should use—oh, you finally took care of that hair!" Draco flapped a hand at Romina's cascading hair. It was back to its original length over her chest and without the blazing red ombre tips.

Romina had already gone through one explanation about her hair change and she really didn't want to confuse herself with her lies with more explanations. "Uh, H-Hermione did a...she did a thing with it." That's the lame excuse she was going for and she would stick with it. "Madame Pomfrey had a ride undoing all of the transfiguration spells I put on it. I am forbidden to touch my hair again for the next 10 years or so."

"Good," the word flew out of Draco. "You were getting annoying with that stuff? And you, know, that's probably what you get for letting Granger of all people touch your hair. Have you seen hers?"

Romina scowled. "This coming from someone who just discovered hair gel isn't a requirement."

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "So does this mean you're finally going back to normal now? Cos that's also been beyond annoying."

"Maybe, I don't know. All I know is that right now things don't feel as bad as they've felt all year. Which is why I need to go change to meet Arden at Hogsmeade." Romina moved around to get into the common room.

"Actually, Oswell, wait a second," Draco's call stopped her inches from the entry. "Before you go to Hogsmeade, meet me at the lake."

"What? What for?"

"You just gotta be there," he said, though he seemed slightly nervous which was very unlike him.

"What are you planning, Draco?" Romina's eyes narrowed on him. "Because I swear to God I am not in the mood for any tricks.

"When have I ever played a trick on you?"

Romina scoffed.

"Oswell, seriously, name one time where I tricked you. Just one." Draco crossed his arms and waited for an answer. Romina was all for giving him one...until she couldn't come up with one. Draco smirked. "Can't think of one?" He called with a smirk on his face.

"I can too think of one!" Romina snapped.

"Name one, then."

Romina scrunched her face. Three years with him and she couldn't think of any moment where he'd played a trick on her? That was...oddly true.

Draco knew exactly when she gave up and so with that, he called out to her again. "So I'll see you by the lake, then?"

"Yes," Romina huffed, rather put out that she had lost. Satisfied with her response, Draco went up the stairs. Romina headed inside the common room to change.

Half an hour later, because she also meant to start packing some of her things, Romina headed for the Black Lake. The heat was reaching unbearable levels so she hoped that whatever Draco had for her wouldn't take a long time.

Things were off to a bad start when Romina didn't see him. He wasn't there. I swear to god if there's a trick…

She took a deep breath in to calm herself. She didn't want to be angry, she felt like that was all she'd been this year. She looked around the area and saw several other students lounging about, including Rolf. Since Draco was nowhere to be seen, Romina decided to pass the time with Rolf.

"Hey Rolf," she greeted the boy. Unsurprisingly, he was near the waters admiring the creatures they could see near the surface.

"Hey," he said, glancing at her then doing a double-take at her. Romina chuckled. "You changed your hair again!"

"Yeah," she said, reaching to take hold of a curl. "Decided maybe it was time to go back to normal, you know?"

"Looks great," Rolf smiled at her. "Are you, uh, feeling better about things, then?"

Romina half sighed. "You know, everyone has been asking me that and so far, I'm not entirely sure that I am but...I feel like I could actually get there again. I mean, I'm not brooding anymore."

"That's something," Rolf said. "The start of a recovery, right?"

Romina nodded. "I don't think I'll ever be able to shake off my parents' legacy though. I'll always have to live with the fact my family is full of dark wizards who did terrible stuff and wherever I go, it's the first thing that people will think about when they see me."

Rolf seemed nervous all of a sudden. He stepped back from the lake, his hands sliding into his pockets. "I don't think that's necessarily true..."

Romina managed a small smile at him. "Rolf, you did the same thing when we first met." She saw the flush on Rolf's face and chuckled. "It's okay. You managed to get past it. I have to believe that others will to."

Rolf let out a heavy breath. "Romina, that's not...that's not exactly what happened."

Romina raised an eyebrow at him. "Then what did?" Rolf held onto his words for what seemed the longest. Romina watched him open and close his mouth several times. "I don't mean to be pushy, but I'm actually supposed to meet Draco in a bit." She looked around and saw that he still wasn't nearby. "Although if he just flaked on me, I'm going to kick his arse."

"Romina, I'm sorry," Rolf's apology was naturally strange to Romina. She didn't understand what he was supposed to be sorry about. "I...I've known about you for a lot longer than this year."

"Yeah, I bet you have," Romina nodded. "First year was absolute hell for me."

"I know, and I'm sorry for never saying anything."

Romina tilted her head at him. "Never saying anything about what?"

Rolf seemed to grow even more nervous. He licked his lips nervously and brought his hands out of his pockets. "I, um, you have to believe me. I was just shocked when I...when I saw you for the first time."

"Okay...that's...that's a fair sentiment, I guess?" Romina thought this was turning very strange, very fast, and she didn't want anything to ruin her cheerier mood, not even Rolf.

Rolf knew she wasn't understanding him and it was his fault for not saying it already. "I've been lying to you, Romina. Back on the first day I talked to you in our Care of Magical Creatures class, I lied to you."

"What do you mean?" Romina instinctively gulped. What if this was going to turn into a huge trick on her? Maybe Pansy was behind it?

"I didn't just happen to talk to you that day. It wasn't random at all. I picked my moment. A-after the library when we bumped into each other, I realized I couldn't just be at Hogwarts without talking to you."

Oh god if he tells me has a crush on me. It was perhaps a pretentious thing to think about but Romina was more afraid than anything at the idea of losing such a good friend in Rolf. She didn't want to think about having to let him down easily.

"See, cos, you...you're...you're not my friend," Rolf said, wincing afterwards when he realized how that sounded.

Romina, meanwhile, gasped. "We're not? Why...why not? I thought we were. Did I...did I do something—"

"No!" Rolf's eyes were no longer on her. They'd fallen to the ground and no matter how many times he attempted to meet her gaze again, he couldn't.

"Then why aren't we friends?" Romina asked frailly.

"It's not like that, Romina. I'm not explaining myself well. I fumble over my words a lot. Especially when I'm nervous." He chuckled to himself. "Apparently, I get that from my grandfather."

"Hm, when I get nervous I tend to get funny. I get more sarcastic." Romina said as a means of comfort and in hopes to lighten up the mood. She was dead afraid of what Rolf wanted to say to her.

"Yeah, you get that from your grandmother, actually."

"Huh?"

Rolf drew in a breath and with all the courage in the world, he looked up at Romina. "You get that from your grandmother, Abigail."

Romina's eyebrows furrowed. "What? How do you...who is that?"

"Your grandmother." Rolf swallowed incredibly hard. He might choke there and then. "And mine."

"What!? Rolf, what the hell are you talking about!?" Romina didn't understand one bit.

"What do you know of your mother's family, Romina?"

Romina didn't want to think about her mother, especially when Rolf was saying such odd things. "I don't know! Who cares! Why are you saying these things!?"

"Romina, it's important," Rolf insisted, and urgently too, "Your mother's family. Do you know any of them?"

Romina shook her head. "No. Uncle Lyonel doesn't really talk about my family on both sides. You can understand why, right?"

Rolf nodded. That made perfect sense and it's exactly what he heard at home all the time. "Of course. I just don't think it's fair that they're hiding part of your family who loves you."

Romina was tired of not understanding. She suddenly wished she was dealing with Draco and his mysterious nonsense rather than this. "Rolf, please just tell me what you're talking about."

Rolf nodded. He supposed he was dragging it out a bit. "Your mum, Elora, she's my grandparents' daughter. She's my aunt. You're...my cousin."

Romina froze in her spot. Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. For a second, Rolf had to worry if she was breathing or not. She wasn't moving either.

"Romina?" He called her gently. "Romina…?"

Romina slowly came out of her stupor and when she did, she came out with a tiny laugh. "Sorry, it's just...for a moment I thought you said you and I were—"

"Cousins?" Rolf finished for her. He nodded. "Yeah, we are."

Romina stumbled back a step. "Rolf...that can't...that's not…"

"It is," Rolf promised. "Your mum is the eldest daughter of my grandparents, Abigail and Newt Scamander. My dad is your mother's brother — your uncle. My grandparents are your grandparents. I'm your cousin, Romina."

The noises that left Romina's mouth were the only thing she could muster at the moment. "No, no, because...because I would...I would've known, I...the albums I had, they..."

Rolf felt more guilty as Romina ventured into her past — what she knew of her past — and found that nothing made sense anymore. As happy as the news could be, it was also devastating because what she once knew was no more.

Eventually, her dark eyes flickered to Rolf, her reaction so strong that it was almost like she was devoid of it because she didn't know which emotion to lean on first. "Why didn't you say anything?" Her voice was a frail whisper. "You were here — this whole time you were here and you didn't say anything."

Rolf nodded with his head hanging low. "I know, I'm sorry. I-I knew about you but I had only seen a couple pictures of you until we started Hogwarts. They were baby pictures."

"And when we finally started Hogwarts? What then? You were ashamed of me too?" As angry as Romina wanted to be with him, she knew she couldn't single him out either. There were plenty of people who put distance between themselves and the Oswell family.

"No!" Rolf exclaimed. "I just...I didn't know what to do. At first, when I heard your name in the Sorting, I was shocked. I wrote to my parents and grandparents, telling them that you were here. You were going to Hogwarts with me."

"And then?" Romina's eyes were tearing up. That had been three years ago. Clearly, if they had wanted anything to do with her, they would have reached out to her.

"It's complicated, Romina..." sighed Rolf, but that wasn't enough for her.

"Complicated? They either wanted me in their lives or not!"

"They did! They do! They've always wanted you to be in their lives!"

"So why didn't they do anything!?" Romina practically shouted. Other students nearby began to look at them. "I have lived in the same house my whole life! I've been at the same school for three years! They knew where to find me and they didn't do it! That doesn't sound like a people who wanted me in their lives!"

"After the war, your uncle Lyonel took custody of you. My dad says that Lyonel didn't want you to grow up near wizards in general. Their family name was in ruins and he didn't want you to suffer."

Romina breathed raggedly now as she felt a sob trying to make it out of her throat. She didn't want to make a spectacle in front of the others, not when she had already given them so much content over the year to work with. She turned away from Rolf, dragging a hand through her hair, working on calming herself down.

"My uncle — he knew about this? He knew about the-them?"

"It appears so," Rolf nodded. "Grandma Abby tried to talk to him after you were picked up but Lyonel refused. I think he was so scared that he wanted to personally make sure you were okay."

"By not letting me be with my other family?" Romina smiled sourly at the grass. "I turned out great, didn't I?"

"You did," Rolf said whole-heartedly. Romina turned sideways to see him smiling softly. "You're awesome! You're cool, you're smart, you're so funny."

Romina wiped some of the tears on her cheeks. "Why, um, why didn't they write to me?" Her voice was no longer demanding but instead lamenting. "I've been at Hogwarts for years. They could have written me here."

"I don't know, you'd have to ask them yourself. But one thing I know for sure is how much grandma Abby and grandpa Newt love you. They've been following your track record here at Hogwarts."

"What?" A brief look of panic flashed across Romina's face. Her track record at Hogwarts was less than stellar and this year had to be the worst of all.

"They have some history with Dumbledore so they've been kept in the loop about you."

"What? They went to school here?"

"Just grandpa, but it's honestly a whole other story that I think they would like to tell you."

"I-I can't...this is too much," Romina shook her head. "My whole life, my uncle and aunt knew I had more family who actually wanted to see me and they never said anything?"

There was a time where Romina often asked them about their other family. She was young but she knew they weren't the only Oswell family members. There were other distant members somewhere out there, and that included Elora's family. But whenever she asked or simply touched on the subject, it was almost immediately changed. As time went on, and she admittedly grew bitter about her dark family's legacy, she stopped asking. That was her fault, she now saw. Maybe if she had asked more, if she had been more persistent, they would've cracked and told her about this other side of her family.

But they could have also told you when you started Hogwarts, she told herself. Yes, she could have been more persistent but at the end of the day she was just a kid and they were the adults. They had the responsibility to tell her there were others who wanted to see her. She had grandparents who were right there.

"Romina?" Rolf gently called. When he moved to touch her arm, she stepped away. He tried not to look hurt, knowing it was a proper reaction to everything he had dumped on her. His own parents warned him that if he decided to say anything, she could react this way.

"I...I think I need to sit down..." Romina said slowly, glancing around for an empty spot away from others. "Alone."

Rolf knew exactly what that meant. "Okay," he accepted it without protest. It was fair. "But just...believe me when I say I'm very happy to have met you. I'm only sorry that I was a coward who waited too long to tell you. It's no excuse, I know, but I was scared. I'll write you, if that's okay."

Romina gave him a silent nod. She really needed to be on her own right now. Rolf was reluctant to leave her, though, after the huge bomb he'd dropped on her.

"Scamander, what are you doing here?" Draco's voice carried over seconds before he approached the two. He eyed Rolf with a crinkled nose. "Shouldn't you be off petting some of the gamekeeper's pets?"

Rolf rolled his eyes at Draco. "Seriously not the time but if you're itching for a comment, I bet you're super delighted that the hippogriff escaped, huh?"

The pleasantry was written all over Draco's face at the mention.

"Don't," came Romina's quiet whisper just as his mouth opened. "I just — I really don't want to hear it this time."

"What did I miss?" Draco's eyes shifted between her and Rolf, both curious and admittedly slightly put out. What the hell did Rolf do now?

Romina decided to turn away from the two and head to an empty tree where she could sit and maybe sulk a little bit. Rolf thought it was his time to go and when he did leave, Draco blocked his way.

"What are you up to, Scamander?" He frowned.

"Sod off, Malfoy! I'm not in the mood!" Rolf went to leave but Draco blocked his way again. "What do you care what's going on now? We've known each other for ever and this is probably the longest conversation we've had."

"Don't get it confused, I'm only interested because an hour ago, Oswell was up and grinning again and now suddenly she looks like she's about to throw herself into the lake. What gives?"

"If you're genuinely that interested, go ask her," Rolf said, figuring Romina could use anyone, even him, to vent. "Would do you some good to care about someone else rather than yourself for 10 minutes." He pushed past Draco and went on his way.

As irritated as Draco was, and he was, his curiosity won the best of him and he went to find Romina. She had found herself a spot on the ground, against a tree, and was staring blankly ahead.

"Okay, Oswell, what's the deal now? I thought you said you were done sobbing?"

Romina's eyes flickered from the lake up to him and flashed with anger. "Do I look like I'm shedding a tear to you?" she snapped.

"I don't know, I'm gonna wait it out 5 minutes and see."

"Eugh, go away!" She grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it at him.

"Hey!" He blocked his face with an old book in his hands. "Watch it! I don't need this, you know?"

"Then go away!"

"I could — and would — but I brought you something." Draco held out the book to her.

"I don't need your gifts."

"Would you take a look at the damn thing first?" Draco dropped the book on her lap and crossed his arms. "Look at it," he ordered her again.

Romina thought about the perfect moment she could chuck it at his face...until she saw the cover. "This is the yearbook Parkinson had..." she mumbled. It was the same yearbook where Elora and Caplan were pictured in one of their Hogwarts years. "Why do you have it?"

"I asked Parkinson to see it and she happily gave it to me. Didn't even ask me why I would want it."

Romina scoffed. "Are you really that shocked, though? You can see the humongous crush she has on you from a kilometer away."

"I could say the same thing about Angel."

Romina's head snapped up at Draco. They met each other's looks and upheld it until they both, ironically, rolled their eyes.

"Anyways," Draco went on, "I thought you might want to look at it, hold it, throw it away...or if you're feeling brave, burning it."

Romina curiously lifted an eyebrow at him. "What are you going to do when Parkinson eventually asks you for her book back?"

Draco slid his hands into his pockets then pulled them out. "Oh no, I must have misplaced it." He shrugged.

Romina couldn't help the laugh that broke out from her. "She'll kill you..."

"You just said she's hopelessly in love with me."

"That is not what I said."

"But it's still true."

Romina would have loved to argue but it was very true. Plus, she didn't want to spend time talking about Pansy's unfortunate love life. "Thank you..." She gripped the book in her hands, gazing at its cover. If you open it, you might find your supposed aunt and uncle. She felt knots in her stomach.

"Merlin, Oswell, what the fuck is it now!?" Draco couldn't stand watching Romina anymore. "I will take that book from you right now if you don't tell me!"

Romina thought about throwing the book at him again. She glared at him but in that moment, she couldn't muster that annoyance she usually did it with. "Why didn't you want me to know who Rolf was?"

"Huh?" Draco made a face. Of all the things Romina could have asked, that certainly wasn't what he thought it would be. "What are you going on about now?"

"Listen to me and just answer the question! Back at the library when I bumped into him, you didn't want me to know who he was. Why?"

"I don't—"

"Was it because you knew who he was?"

"Obviously I know who he is—"

"No, I meant because you knew that he was my bloody cousin!?"

"I'm sorry — what!?" Draco's eyes had widened dramatically.

Romina paused her interrogation to gauge his reaction. He seemed genuinely surprised with her right now. Maybe he hadn't known...

"Rolf is your cousin?" The news was too much not to ask more about. "When the hell did he tell you that?"

"Right now!" Romina gestured down to the lake. "Literally 5 minutes ago! Just told me the whole story! Elora is his father's sister, making us cousins!"

Draco stood like a statue for several minutes; the only things moving were his eyes and eyebrows as he thought about the idea. His face was the same one he made whenever she (or Arden) started talking about muggle-related stuff.

"You...you really didn't know?" Her question, albeit soft, still pulled a glare from him.

"No!" he snapped. "Why the hell would I know?"

"I don't know, you seem to always know everything around here—"

"I'm well educated, not a historian! I don't know every fucking member of every family, you know!"

Romina deadpanned him. "You want me to throw you the book?"

"Oh, calm yourself. The problem's not with me, is it? It's with the rest of the world, apparently."

Romina leaned back against the tree. No, her plan was not to be angry at the world again. She found the idea very tiresome. "So...you really had no idea? I mean, no one in your circle knows this?"

"Marriage amongst the sacred 30 is a funny thing..." Draco came over beside Romina and sat down next to her.

"Sacred 30?" Romina couldn't help her face, but it was a rather amusing sight for Draco.

"You are so painfully behind, Oswell. I know for a fact I told you about the Sacred 30 during our correspondence letters two summers ago. The Sacred 30 are the only remaining pureblood families in the wizarding community."

"Honestly, when you started writing essays on that part, I skimmed," Romina said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Draco rolled his eyes; he wasn't going to waste time being surprised. It sounded like something she would do. "The point I was trying to get to is that the way marriage works usually ends up with your maiden name being forgotten. Eventually, enough time passes and then it really is forgotten. I imagine that's what happened with the Scamander family. That and the fact your mother—"

"Not my mother," warned Romina. "Do not call her that. She isn't. Her name's Elora."

"Fine, Elora married into the Oswell family and that became her name. I imagine once she became a Death Eater, she really made a point to shed her maiden name and anything with it. The Scamanders are regarded as war heroes."

"Why?" Romina shifted on the ground to face Draco. "Rolf mentioned it too but he said...well it doesn't matter. I thought they were just authors and clothing designers."

"The war before the one with you-know-who. Dumbledore fought in it."

"Ooh," Romina made the connection now. "They all fought together?" Draco nodded. "That's how they know each other then."

"Like veterans," said Romina. "And Dumbledore never even alluded to it too..."

"Anyways, congrats, I guess? People are going to love this."

Romina stiffened as a familiar dread began to fall on her shoulders. "Again? I don't — if I have to go through what I did this year all over again, then I would rather not do anything about this! I would rather not meet anyone either!"

"And yet somehow I don't believe that," said Draco, glancing at her with a knowing smile despite her scowl. "Don't give me that look. You just found out you have more family and you're seriously going to tell me that you're not the least bit curious to meet them?"

"I don't know," Romina huffed and leaned back on the tree, crossing her arms. "If they had wanted to meet me before, they would've done it. My uncle tried to stop them but...I mean...if you really want something, why would you stop?"

"Maybe in fairy tales, things might have gone in that direction, but in this life? Things are not the way it seems and the quicker you accept that, the easier your life will be."

"What the hell would you do, then? If you were in my spot, what would you do?"

Draco was quiet for a few minutes. Romina was just waiting for him to come out with some smartass response about the whole thing.

"I wouldn't do a damn thing," he retorted. Romina looked at him suspiciously. "Why would I? I don't need anything from them."

"You wouldn't need anything from them?" repeated Romina who then scoffed. "Seriously?"

"What?" shrugged Draco. "If they didn't want to see me, then why the hell would I give them my time of day?"

"But — what about the questions you have? Because trust me, there would be some questions!"

Draco scoffed. "I wouldn't have any!"

"Yes you would!"

"No, I wouldn't."

Romina got more worked up the more Draco denied what she swore was true. "Yes, you would!" she finally snapped and pulled herself up from the ground. She glared down at Draco. "Because they are your family whom you just found out about after 13 years of bloody secrets! You would want to meet them! You would want them to tell you why didn't they look harder for you? Why did they give up on you!?"

Draco's expression remained cool under Romina's hard glare. Little by little, a smirk started worming across his face. "Well, then I guess I know your summer plans, don't I?"

It took Romina another moment to realize what he had done. She let out a heavy breath, mentally trying to decide whether to strangle him or appreciate his gesture. It was a very tough decision.

Draco started getting up and he picked up the yearbook off the ground. "You're welcome," he said as he held the book out to Romina.

She was beyond dumbfounded in the end and the more she thought about it, the more flushed she got. "I..." She was at a loss for words.

"You're tired," Draco said, and grabbed her hand to place the book on. "I suggest you go back to your dorm and just...stop thinking about it. At least for 10 minutes. After that, things don't seem as bad anymore."

Romina got the faint feeling that he spoke from direct experience. If it was, then it would be the first time Draco talked about himself in a real way. Not the showing off type of stuff he usually did. "Thank you," she whispered to him.

Draco nodded at her. He started leaving when Romina suddenly called him again.

"Could you...could you not tell anyone about this?" she nervously asked. "I'm not quite ready for people to...find out more about me again."

"Whatever you want." Draco flashed her a smile and went on his way. He missed the light smile that crossed Romina's face.

A/N:

Been waiting to drop that one! Romina is part of the Scamander family! And her grandmother is another of my OCs, Abigail, and obviously a Fantastic Beast oc but it's still in the drafts! But anyways, happy ending for book 3! Book 4 is where the real fun/drama starts ;)

#ocapp #allaboutocs #ochub #fyeahharrypotterocs #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fics #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x oc #harry potter fics #harry potter imagines #hp #hp fics #hp imagines #oc: romina oswell #fic: legacies

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actualbird · 10 months

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Hi Zak!! This is a pretty random ask but i was just wondering if you have any tips for starting a fanfic/story? I just keep getting stuck on how to start one (I really love your work/blog 🙏 feeds my tot brain rot fr!!)

hi anon, im glad you like the stuff i make ;w; !!! and ohhh, sure i got tons of tips for that!.....so many that i actually wish i cld get u back here to ask what specifically about starting a story u'd want tips on but for now, i'll go for a general overview :D!!

cuz....to me (i.e. based on my writing process, which i'll be drawing heavily from for these tips), the act of Starting comes in three distinct steps, one after the other:

Idea Generation (what is the story gonna be about and how do i get ideas for that?)

Concept Organization/Outlining (how is the story going to be about this idea and how will i be executing it?)

Creation (GAH, HOW PUT WORDS ON PAGE!?!?!?)

so i'll give general tips for all three!!!

Idea Generation Tips

(this is the step that i personally have the least trouble with because my brain makes 5 new ideas every day. it's kinda a curse now because it leads to me having too many wips and concepts and only 1% of them gets to the Creation period jhvjhVJKSHFVHJS BUT ANYHOO, TIPS-)

Check Out Prompt Lists (super fun and easy way to get an idea! theres tons of story and fic prompts out there that you can search up here on tumblr, some of them being lists of lines of dialog or lists of AUs or scenarios. even if you dont follow a prompt exactly, they can be great at kickstarting ur brain into thinking of something related that you Do wanna pursue)

Open/Ask For Prompt Requests (if ur brain doesnt have any ideas, u can ask around and see if anyone ELSE has ideas theyre alright with you writing! my tot fics "reviews for Time's Antiquities, South Stellis | Average Rating: 4.8 Stars" and "but little do we know, the stars welcome him with open arms" were both inspired by anon asks i got!! to those anons who sent those asks, i owe u my life....but yea, maybe other people can give ideas to you! or, again, give Something that can inspire another thing in ur brain to take shape)

Just Ramble With A Friend (SO MANY OF MY FIC IDEAS started because i was just goofing off and playing idea volleyball with fandom buddies in our DMs (shoutout to sam samsspambox, z lukevonhagen, and beck beckthebeetle for being the main culprits of this). like, what started out as a joke conversation eventually makes go "oh no wait i actually wanna see that as a fic" and then boom, Idea Has Been Acquired. but fr, talking with another person makes your brain create things u never thought about before. it's both tons of fun to chat with a buddy as a sounding board, and it yields awesome concepts for stories!)

For Fanfic Specifically, Think About What You Want To See In Canon But Hasn't Happened And You Want It So Bad It's Driving You NUTS (this can be anything from missing scenes you wish were expanded on, scenes you wish went a different way, character relationships you wish you could see more of in canon, go nuts! the fun thing with fanfic is that it's a fertile playground for all the what-ifs, and a lot of my fics' ideas were simply found because i thought "man i know tears of themis is never gonna show me deep found fam moments/artem ptsd consequences after main story 6.2/mariluke, so imma make it myself" JHVSJDHF. ideas are hard to make sometimes, but brains are so good at desiring things. and all those desires? those can also be Ideas for a fic!)

Concept Organization/Outlining

(very much skippable if your writing style/personality is more receptive to free-wheeling!! im just the type of writer who always needs an outline to begin something. it helps me structure a raw idea with no shape into something clearer that i can envision a story for)

Outline A Rough Chain Of Events Chronologically (this can be as simple as three bullet points, what happens at the Start of the story, the Middle, and the End. or maybe you can go list down the portions of your fic according to the Freytag's Pyramid Plot Structure: Exposition, Inciting Incident, Rising Action, etc etc.)

Outline A Rough List Of Stuff You Just Want To Happen In The Fic (if your brain is like mine and isnt too great at chronological thinking, make a list of just all the plot points and events or even dialog exchanges u Want to see in the fic. you can organize it in the order u want later once uve put everything down)

Outline The Themes (moving away from plot, many stories are more focused on feelings or characterization or themes. so make a list of the Concepts you want to tackle. this is something i do for my fics that are more introspective, so i outline shit like "EVENT THAT MAKES LUKE INTERNALIZE SELF-LOATHING followed by EVENT THAT MAKES LUKE'S VIEW BE NOTICED BY ANOTHER CHARACTER")

Creation

(the worst part of writing....is the writing JAVFJVSDKHFDJHJ but nah fr this is the part i have the hardest time with, so here are tips that help me kickstart the word engine)

You Dont Have To Start Writing The Fic From The Beginning Of Its Story, Start Writing Wherever (confession: a good 75% of my fics are ones where the first scene i actually wrote down was not the start. instead, i just wrote the scene i was most excited to write. and usually thats somewhere in the middle! i do this cuz it makes my brain happy, and a happy brain is much easier to pull words from than a sad brain. plus, when i see the scene I Like Best already written, it gives me motivation to do the rest of the fic because oh my god i want everybody to sEE THIS ONE DANG SCENE!!! start writing the fic at whatever point you want, in whatever order comes most naturally to you, is my point. you can fill the rest in later, but hey, starting to write where you Want has gotten you Started. now you just gotta finish, and finishing when you already have something down is much easier than starting from 0)

Set Tiny Wordcount Goals. And When I Say Tiny, I MEAN TINY!!! (writing is intimidating but if you set a goal of say, 100 words written for a wip per day, at the end of one week, you'll have 700 words. at the end of two, you'll have 1400 words. at the end of a month, 3000. small goals help since it makes you do Something, and that Something will inevitably compound, no matter what goal uve set. and let urself be proud of the goals uve achieved!!! writer brain gets happy when you tell it it's done a good job at reaching a wordcount goal, and like i said earlier, happy brain is much easier to work with than sad brain)

Give Yourself All The Time You Need (i know this sounds counterproductive but sometimes....the best thing you can do for the part of your brain that wants to start creating....is waiting til it's ready. dont pressure yourself, cuz brain will get sad. dont be too hard on yourself, cuz brain will get sad. start when you want to start in the way that works best with your brain and see where things go, but be patient with yourself. sometims Starting is actually the longest part of writing a story and thats fine. it will happen. trust)

thats all the tips ive got! and of course, what will work for me wont always work for other people, so please feel free to take what you think applies to you and discard what doesnt resonate.

i hope some part of this can help! happy writing :D

#asks #anon #.....man i forgot if i had a tag for writing tips. i know ive answered a writing tips asks but i cannot rmr for the life of me the tag..jsd #also yes im testing out changing text color to help break up my blocktext rambling jhvjkVKJ

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