#UGH i loved writing this

[blood-mocha-latte]

paper, kneel, garrulous, bashful, impinge - a baberoe drabble

for an ask from @whollyjoly <3 || request an edit/drabble || sometimes, you just think of the church scene in the breaking point episode of band of brothers and think hm, baberoe

The choir stops singing after about two hours.

Gene listens closely the entire time, not so much to listen to the sound of the melody but for the words; for any trace of his Grandmére, his Mére, Renée. For the language of home.

They sing, and they sing, and then they stop; filing out of the church to rest in the ruins of their town, marred by war like a victim of smallpox is scars.

A young girl, the last one to file out of the large, wood-chipped doors of the candlelit church, turns to look over her shoulder at them, one last time. A blonde braid swings over her shoulder as she does. Gene accidentally catches her eye and nods to her. She nods back, face solemn, eyes dark. She can’t be more than twelve.

The echoing singing is replaced by the soft murmurs of exhausted men, and Gene slides down the wooden pew, over to where Lip sits, slouched over, blood still crusted in his hair and brow. 

“Sir.” He greets softly, and Lip jolts, only slightly. It makes Gene almost relax, slightly; the idea that the man who’s been with them for the longest and the bravest finally feels safe enough to let his guard down.

He looks up from a piece of paper, a stubby pencil held in one hand, and Gene nods, tangling his fingers together in front of them, a long-forged habit of warmth that isn’t exactly needed, anymore. Lip nods back.

“Doc.” He says. “How’s…” He somewhat trails off, eyes shifting to take in the men, lounging across pews, sleeping on each other's shoulders. He huffs, looks back down at the paper, and crumples it up before shoving it into his pocket. “Well, how’s everyone? How’re you?”

“Just fine.” Gene says, and doesn’t feel like elaborating. He nods to the pocket. “What’re you workin’ on?”

Lip blinks before humming, dropping the hand holding the pencil into his lap, staring down at it. “Nothin’ much.” He mutters, thoughtful. “Just… just a list. I made one for Captain Speirs, but.” He rolls the pencil across his palm. “I figured I’d make another.”

Gene watches his profile, wonders if he should bother patching up the cut that runs jagged across his temple and decides against it. It won’t need stitches, anyways, and he can always clean and bandage it in the four or five hours they have before they have to move out. 

He can do that, now. Procrastinate. Not much, but enough. Enough to be comforted by it.

“Try an’ get some rest, Sir.” Gene murmurs, and slides as quietly as he can out of the pew and down the polished, wooden steps. Lipton hums, and Gene knows that he didn’t really hear him.

He wanders rather aimlessly, after that, pacing the lengths of the pews only once before coming to a stop at the end opposite Lip. He leans against the short wall that supports the stairs. 

He should be exhausted, he doesn’t know why he isn’t. He’s just… warm, chest soft with a relief that’s tainted by apprehension. Sore and aching, but not caring. He never truly cared about that, anyways. Not when it’s him, that’s sore and aching.

“Heya, Doc.” Says a soft voice, and Gene knows who it is before he turns around to look. 

“Edward.” He says, and feels the side of his traitorous mouth quirk up when Heffron groans, overexaggerated but still exhausted.

“Awe, you’re killin’ me, Gene.” He says, and Gene huffs, quiet enough that Heffron can’t hear, and turns around, resting against the wall. Heffron rests against the pew, slouching backwards, knees spread. His grin is crooked, bright. “Patch me up, and then kill me anyways. That’s just cruel.”

Gene, against his better judgment, doesn’t tamp down the smile Heffron’s words invoke. He trods up the few steps to the pew Heffron rests at quietly. He doesn’t bother sitting at the pews, already crowded by men laying on them like beds, by men who need them more than he.

He kneels next to Heffron, instead, before leaning against the pew and crossing his legs under him. “Yeah, well.” He says softly, and doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t know where to go, from there. What to say. Heffron hums, like he does.

“Ya know, back in Philly, my sister got all these fancy ass books. Ass-tin, or somethin’. Jane. ‘Ya know?” Gene hums. He leans his head back against the wood of the pew, lets the light of the candles comfort him. Heffron shifts, as if leaning closer to him as he continues. “Well, it was only… maybe a week, before I enlisted? And I was ramblin’ about… somethin’ stupid. I don’t remember what. But it was pissin’ my sister right the fuck off, see, ‘cause I kept talkin’ over her.”

Gene huffs, and resists the urge to close his eyes. He can imagine that. Can imagine Heffron with a sister, with a family. Talking a mile a minute, so fast and with accents so thick that Gene wouldn’t be able to tell what in the hell any of them are saying. Heffron shifts again, and Gene can hear his breathing, soft and steady, if a bit rapid.

“Anyways, you know what she called me? This one foot nothin’, eleven year old kid?” Heffron didn’t wait for Gene to respond. “She called me garrulous.” Heffron puts strain on the word, and laughs softly afterwards; that same laugh that Spina has. That Bill had, when he was here. It has to be a Philadelphian thing, Gene thinks. The soft, cackling laugh like your mouth is coming right off your face.

“Garrulous.” Gene says, trying the word out. He doesn’t know what it means, exactly, but it seems nice. Heffron chuckles again, and Gene doesn’t jump when the back of his hand brushes across the shell of his ear, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of Gene’s jacket.

“That’s how you said my name.” He says, softly. More hesitant than anything he’s said before. Almost bashful. “The first time. That’s how you said it. All… all slow.” Gene blinks, and, finally, gives into the urge to close his eyes. He almost leans further into the hand, but stops at the last second.

“Slow?” He asks, and Babe hums, tapping light fingers against his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” He says, then pauses. “Like… like you’re tasting what you say. Really thinkin’ about it.”

I don’t think. Gene thinks. I just run. And move. And find. And—

“‘S one of my favorite things about you.” Babe says, voice so quiet it’s like he’s telling a terrible secret. Gene wants to curl against that voice, never wants to open his eyes again. 

They’re in a church, under the benevolent eyes of Him, and although that never stopped anything from happening before, Gene feels like it would, this time. The soft tapping, five points of near-holy connection between him and Heffron, Edward, Babe, seems to say something. 

Seems to say, it’s gonna be fine, eventually. Seems to say, the scars you dream of won’t haunt you’re waking moments, sometime soon. Seems to say, don’t let the bright stars and dark night be ruined by the sinful impingement of blood.

Gene likes to think that he can feel Babe’s rough fingertips gently against the bare column of his throat, across his temple before he drifts off; lightly but more restful than almost all of his time in France.

He’ll get up, soon. Probably in an hour or two. Keep a careful eye on the men. On Babe.

(Babe, Babe, Babe—)

For now, he lets himself rest on holy ground, with a near-holy man talking softly over the absent echoing of lost screams in his head.

#rie writes #click on words for definitions ;) #also once again two hours earlier! i'm so good with clocks #UGH i loved writing this #it's not as fluffy and domestic as i was gunning for!! i hope that's okay lmao #baberoe #eugene roe #doc roe #babe heffron #carwood lipton #<- i mean he's in it #band of brothers #hbo war

[lostlegendaerie]

there's something deeply gutting about being a writer right now. watching studio execs brag about starving people like you out of your very house just to not pay you anything above the pennies you currently make. watching some people cheer over AO3 being targeted for a DDOS attack. the complete lack of profitability of writing commissions or writing in general in transformative spaces, especially in contrast to fanart. the pivot of so many social media platforms to be video and image based near-exclusively.

I don't know. it just makes me sad to know that the hobby that kept me alive while growing up homeschooled with dial-up internet and local antenna TV... is only ever gonna be a side job with minimal engagement. I know this site is good about supporting libraries and the concept of books but, do me a favor? Reach out to a writer friend you know. Leave a comment on your last five read stories on your favorite website.

Tell us you care.

#maybe that's why I've been so stalled on my novel #I keep trying to convince myself there's a POINT to it #but I look at how BRUTAL the publishing industry is and how I can't even consistently break ten reblogs on writing I post here #and I just. it hurts. and I have other hobbies I could fall back on!!! I could do art and cosplay and cater to the immediate engagement!! #but writing is my LOVE and my PASSION and I just wish. I wish the current climate CARED about us #TALKED to us the way we talk to cosplayers and artists and the chocolate guy #UGH. Wednesday blues hitting me NASTY today

[jkslipppiercing]

(warning: smut)

"see how good you take my cock, now?" when all you do is bounce on his cock repeatedly moaning instead of giving him a proper answer, jungkook snaps his hips up and into your entrance sharply demanding a reply.

"words, baby." he rasps into your ear from his position behind you. in the heat of the moment, the pleasure youre experiencing having been too much to handle at your state, your head had lolled back onto his shoulder with your eyes shut tight in ecstasy as you continue to ride him.

his hand snakes onto your neck and he barely squeezes, not enough to cut off your oxygen but enough to prove who's in control. "look at me."

you open your eyes then, and the most pornographic pitched moan escapes your throat when you see how beautifully jungkook fills you up. "see how well you take me? such a good girl. you're doing so well." you clench around him at the praise, moaning when he hits a good spot.

his hips continue to snap into yours rapidly as you try to bounce on him with equal efforts; wetness and precum oozes onto the floor and your clit's achy and swollen. from the looks of it, it's clear how sore you're gonna wake up tomorrow.

earlier, roughly thirty minutes ago, you had told jungkook you wanted to experiment with your sex life. he had been happy to oblige.

this is how he gave it to you. with a mirror situated in front of both of you as he sits on the floor, you bouncing on his cock with your back to him.

everything's exposed...vulnerable.

you've never been more turned on by the sight.

jungkook's hair sticks to his forehead as your own does too, both of you sweating by the force of exertion.

but fuck, he's beautiful.

his hand around your neck, with his other now trailing down to play with your clit...

and, god.

that cock.

you just know youre not gonna last long. and you prove that to him when you tighten and clench incredibly hard around him as he toys with you.

a guttural grunt reaches your ears and you can hardly breathe.

"shh, baby, i know." he moans under you, fucking you deliciously. you moan in response and everything burns.

in a good way.

your thighs burn from the position slowly turning uncomfortable, your lower belly tightens with insatiable heat, and when jungkook flicks at your clit one last time (with his hand still around your neck), a scream tears out of your chest at the utter euphoria that takes you above and beyond.

the climax hits you harder then ever before and you're no longer able to withhold the sight of his cock in you as your eyes roll to the back of your head and you arch your back, afraid it might snap. veins pop out of your neck from your moans and you've never been happier.

"fuuuuuck, baby." his thrusts turn lazy as you slump against him with a satisfied smile on your face. he watches you back in the mirror with a heated and hooded gaze before thrusting one last snap into your heat and burrying his face in your neck as he cums with a low drawl. "fuck, you're heaven."

you watch as his cum mixed with yours slushes out of you when you move to get up, only to realize you've made a huge mess on the floor. oops. got some of it on the mirror, as well.

oh, well.

it's not the first time jungkook's had you squirting all over the place.

and he knows this, because when he catches you cringing at the mess, all he does is smirk as he pulls you in for a kiss before swooping you off your feet and into the bathroom.

"come on." he kisses you again. "let's get this pretty baby cleaned up."

-unedited.

-taglist.

@hoseokteardrop @nochuel @kaitieskidmore97 @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring @bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdolls @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotes @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime @allisonstone @hopekive @llallaaa @tarahardcore @hopetookmysoul @betysotelo18 @harmonic55 @ecrvea @awesomebabyyoda @peterstarkchrishiddleston @pinkrockstar19 @sweetestseoul @luv--youu @mochminnie @coletaehyung @whitelies2248-blog @ash07128 @bangtans-momma

@yourbobaeyestell @laylasbunbunny @btsnpniff @olimpiiaa @caro134340lina @ohsweetmimosa @lovingkoalaface @httpjeonlicious @t-alyssa2006 @aloverga @sexytholland @skzthinker

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #love #smut #heavy smut #bitch what the actual fuck did i just write. #haya's fantasies #jk smuttt #ugh i love experimenting with smut even if it's horribly written 🫡 #okay bye #jungkook drabble #smut drabble

[an-entity-i-think]

"I have a secret."

Arthur looks up from a report and glances across the room absentmindedly to Merlin holding a dagger he was polishing in his lap as he watches Arthur with a tilt of his head.

Arthur huffs a laugh, "Is it that you're secretly a girl?"

Merlin's lips tick upward for just a moment before continuing his stare.

Arthur watches him for a few moments, and then puts his quill down.

"You have a secret." Arthur repeats seriously.

Merlin just smiles, a small one, "I have a secret. It's an important one. But I can't tell you the secret. And I can't tell you why I can't tell you."

Arthur squints his eyes as Merlin looks down to keep polishing.

"Are you in danger?"

Merlin pauses to think which makes Arthur clench his fists in worry, not that he'd say that.

"...I suppose," He says slowly, thinking over his words, "But it's to my understanding- at this time at least -that it's no more or less dangerous for me whether you know or not. I do think it may be more dangerous for you if you know though."

Arthur hums and watches Merlin's face but sees nothing but earnestness as they meet eyes across the room.

"And why do you tell me this?"

Merlin just smiles again, but bigger this time, "I've decided I trust you with it. I trusted you before of course," he add hurriedly as if Arthur would ever think otherwise,

"But I just realized that I trust you with this, too. And this is something I've never trusted anyone enough to share it with- before I mean. And if it comes up, well, I'd rather be able to tell you that I can't tell you then to lie to you. So, this is me telling you there's a secret."

Arthur looks thoughtfully before raising one eyebrow along with a ghost of a smirk on his face, "So you have a secret you can't tell me. But you trust me with it. When do I get to hear the secret?"

Merlin leans his head on his hand as he looks sideways at him impishly, "I will tell you no lie if you ask."

Arthur hears the unspoken words bright as day:

I'm not going to say anything by myself cause I don't think it's time yet, but I will tell you the truth regardless if you so choose.

Arthur hums to himself before nodding once and then twice, ignoring the giddiness in his heart.

Picking up his quill again, he says, "You missed a spot," so he can hear his manservant squawk from across the room, "I'm not finished yet, you prat!"

They meet gazes one more time with matching fire in their eyes and grins on their faces before resuming their activities.

It's nice to be trusted.

Magical Reveal Sequel: Here

#entity writes #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin #entity writes merlin #prince arthur #this can be platonic or romantic i suppose #two sides of the same coin #they love each other your honor #they trust each other your honor #ugh i love them

[toytulini]

listen im ace and im pro kink at pride and whatever, but the way some of yall are wording your posts in response to the backlash against it is uh. really taking me back to the ace shitcourse era.

yall know theres nothing wrong with being a "virgin", right? that its not inherently shameful to have not had sex, to never have sex, even if youre not ace, even if you do want to have sex someday, like, its fine that you haven't had sex?

maybe if your problem is that theyre trying to police your behavior and shame you for expressing your sexuality, you can say that? instead of resorting to "haha stupid virgin gets no bitches" like my god. do you not hear how fucking regressive that attitude is? i know, i know, youre "joking".

get a better joke

#toy txt post #god im going to regret this post im gonna regret it so much i can feel it in my bones #let it flop..........pls #internalize my message let it sink in and understand what i am saying and then let the post flop #i say. knowing the ppl who need to see such a message are the ones who will make me regret this post and regrwt not having #1 million bajillion disclaimers #virgin is in quotes bc its a bullshit made up stupid purity culture concept anyway and quite frankly i hate even seeing the word #disclaimer: the previous sentence is not me saying that it is a slur for asexuals. it is me a single individual saying this specific word #grosses me out to read and see everywhere when its a stupid bullshit binary made up or at least historically largely used #to shame largely women and i dont know why we're still using it in 2023 #and ive just been. seeing such an uptick in this whole like. attitude? lately and like #im ace im minorly sex repulsed. mostly about anything sex at me bad. other adults sex at each other consensually? go wild #i like to think im pretty chill about it. i try to be. i think its fine ig to be like 'my meat is huge i fuck so much so good' #like okay not my thing but good for you. love that for you #but then some of yall have started turning it back around back to. 'haha your meat so small and shriveled you get no bitches' #'haha stupid incel virgin' like okay. didnt realize we all went back to fucking. middle school but okay #god im gonna run out of tine to get ready for my thing writing this stupid post UGH evil #but like idk we've kinda circled back to being like haha being a virgin still is stupid and silly and shameful #and if im quite honest. i do think the acecourse played a part in that bc i felt like we were making good progress in like #hey guys is fine to not have sex ever if you dont want to its fine to not want sex its fine #and then aphobes went fucking rabid on us and splintered and destroyed online communities all over but especially on tumblr #and so many aces went back in the closet we stopped talking about it we stopped spreading awareness and now this stupid goddamn like #and now this stupid bullshit attitude is back where its like funny to call someone a virgin as an insult but like no bro trust me its okay #its okay for me to do it bc im a hot queer person with huge meat instead of a cisstraight frat bro with huge meat #? like you know the issue was the behavior right? not the fact that it was straight dudes saying it? its bc the thing being said was shitty? #you know you can dunk on the puritan bitches trying to police your behavior at pride without getting us as collateral damage right #stop making me read that stupid ugly ass word ur not cool or funny #whatever #if you come on to this post to start shit i will not only block you but as many of your mutuals and followers as i can find. i will scroll #i will block this entire fucking website if i need to do not test me. i am exhausted and the acecourse ate up all my tolerance in 2015.

[merlinemryspendragon]

Bridgerton - S3E02 “How Bright the Moon” // S3E03 “Forces of Nature”

#bridgertonedit #polinedit #tvedit #perioddramaedit #romanceedit #dailypolin #dailybridgerton #bridgertonblr #cinemapix #dailyflicks #filmtvtoday #bridgerton #polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton spoilers #edit #my gifs #my toxic trait is being unable to make up my mind on how i prefer to color gifs #though it's a struggle regardless #anyway let me wax poetic about the journal scene/hand cut scene for a bit (not depicted here but related) #the scene that (imo) started changing colin's perception of pen #having colin's writing focus more on his inner struggles particularly with intimacy/connection #and then following that up with having him share an intimate moment with someone he already deeply cares about #who cares for him in return and uplifts him #ugh I love it #i can forgive that the scene wasn't as long as it was in the books (because I do really love the deep talk they have in the book version)

[lesbiancolumbo]

As Indigenous woman filmmakers, we knew that our path through the industry would be narrow and that our film, Fancy Dance, would have a small window for success based on the abysmal record of representation for Indigenous folx in Hollywood. As such, we channeled our collective wills as granddaughters of Dust Bowl survivors, descendants of genocide and avowed followers of the indomitable Merata Mita to give this film the best shot possible. If there existed a “how to make a successful movie in Hollywood” checklist, we followed it to a tee. Step one: Create a compelling script (after her sister’s disappearance, a hustler kidnaps her niece from the child’s white grandparents and takes her to the state powwow in hopes of keeping what’s left of her family intact) – check. Step two: Find top-tier producing partners (Nina Yang Bongiovi, Tommy Oliver) – check. Step three: Cast amazing actors at the top of their field (soon-to-be Oscar nominee Lily Gladstone) – check. Step four: Premiere and screen at world-renowned festivals (Sundance, SXSW, BFI London) – check. Step five: Receive excellent reviews (THR called it “exceptional”) and festival prizes (Hamptons, L.A. Outfest, Mill Valley, NewFest, Sun Valley, Tacoma) – check. Step six: Get a distribution deal – …crickets.

#i am SOOOOO glad someone let erica write about this because it is the most fucked up thing i've seen ALL YEAR #one of the best films of the year and after all the KOTFM love (ugh) this gets CRICKETS? NOTHING? fuck y'all

[bruisedboys]

how do u think battinson shows affection ?? 🤔 since he's literally a sopping wet cat of a man and not the best as socializing, one would think physical affection but is he too awkward for that even ? what do u think ??

battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

okay okay!! so I think for bruce wayne, acts of service is a big one in terms of showing affection!! mostly because he can just do them quietly, if you know what I mean? he doesn’t have to make a big show out of it, doesn’t even have to tell you he’s gonna do them. he’ll just iron your clothes for you without you having to ask, buy your favourite shampoo when he notices you’re running out, tie your shoes before you leave the house together, take your heels off for you after a date. just so many quiet, sweet acts of service that he doesn’t even really think about, he just does them because he loves you and he cares. he gets shy when you confront him about it, though. like, you’ll find he’s restocked all your skincare and hair products and you’ll hunt him down and be like, “bruce, honey, you didn’t have to,” pushing up on to your toes to kiss him. he gets all red around the ears and pretends he doesn’t know what you’re talking about <3

as for physical affection, I think yes he enjoys giving it and receiving it but it’s gotta be at the right time! given how protective he is, he’ll hold your hand in public or almost always have one of his big hands on your hip or the small of your back to guide you, but nothing much more than that. when you’re alone he likes it a lot more, especially if you’re the one giving it. he’s not often the one to initiate hugs or cuddles, it’s almost always you. but you don’t mind, because he never rejects you what you want. he’s a bit awkward about it, especially in the beginning, never knowing what to do with his hands (should he rub your back or stroke your hair or just keep them still??) but once he’s more used to it he’s a really good hugger. his broadness helps too <3

still, his favourite thing is when you initiate the cuddling because it makes him feel really loved and wanted! and then he’ll cuddle back. when you climb in his lap and tuck your chin over his shoulder, he’ll rub your back and you all but melt on top of him. you’ll be lying half on top of him in bed, stroking his cheek lovingly, and he’ll take your hand in his and press his mouth to your fingertips. when you’re massaging his shoulders after a long night, or pushing his hair from his forehead when it’s in his eyes, he’ll give your hip a squeeze as a thank you. it’s almost like, your affection makes him brave enough to reciprocate it. and it honestly means a lot, coming from him. your awkward grumpy touch-starved boy <3

#my sopping wet cat boyfriend <333333 #I love him to pieces!!!!!!!!!! ugh #★ mal writes! #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfic #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne batman #bruce wayne blurb #bruce wayne drabble #bruce wayne oneshot #battinson!bruce wayne #battinson!bruce wayne x reader #battinson #battinson x reader #battinson x you #the batman #the batman x reader #the batman x you #the batman fanfiction #the batman x y/n #the batman!bruce wayne #the batman!bruce wayne x reader #robert pattinson!bruce wayne #robert pattinson!bruce wayne x reader

[starry-bi-sky]

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.  

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 

It is a fast dream. 

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 

—---  

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom. 

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

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

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #amnesiac danyal al ghul au #songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart #musician danny has my heart and soul #yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks #implied good mom talia al ghul #danyal is a momma's boy send tweet #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au #no beta no edits we die like danny fenton #poc danny fentons #i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on. #but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense #ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later #morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it #since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous #phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:]. #danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨ #danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪 #am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe #not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him

[frogchiro]

Imagining Tighnari coming home after going out to further explore the forest and is red in the face, panting and needy and instantly latching to your body, rutting his hips against yours whilst whimpering into your ear that he just can’t wait any longer, his cock has been throbbing for ages now whilst he was travelling home :(( you’re confused as to what brought it on, but by peering into his bag you see an array of brightly coloured mushrooms, ones that Tighnari himself to avoid at all costs as they’re basically viagra, and by the smell of his clothes you can only guess correctly that he had touched them at some point, and now it’s your job to let him fuck the living daylights out of you, else he’ll be on his knees crying and begging to let him stuff his cock into your warm pussy and to let him cum before he looses his mind :(

whiny horny tighnari who begs for a crumb of pussy :(( yeah :((

f!reader, smut galore, feral tighnari, knotting, breeding, cervix fucking, a/b/o-esque

all you can really do now is to carefully put the bag with the mushrooms down in a safe place, lock the door to your hut and strip yourself as quickly as you can because you know that any second your feral horny boyfie can and will jump you like a wild animal in heat.

and he did, oh archons he did. the second he sees that you're naked before him, he physically feels the resistance break and jumps onto you, frantically trying to climb on top of you and attempt to mount you. when he finally has you on your hands and knees tighnari lets out a pathetic long whine seeing you so open before him, presenting your dripping wet pussy to him for the taking, so without any further thoughts he rams his red cock into you, the fat tip nudging against your cervix and leaking like a faucet.

and the thing is, even if you wanted to do something, you really couldn't! the way tighnari bites your shoulder, his tiny sharp teeth making indents in your flesh marking you and the way his strong arms wrap around your belly holding you firmly in place like a vice make you feel like a helpless little bitch in heat, only there to get bred good by your mate.

and in a way you really are, your thoughts getting mushy and smoky as you feel tighnari let out a whining growl as he lifts his left leg over your thigh, the tell tale tug of his forming knot on the enterance of your pussy before you both let out a matching exhausted keen as with one final strong thrust your mate rams inside you, the pointed tip of his dick firmly lodged against the enterance to your most precious place and his pulsing knot keeping all his thick cum locked inside you.

and of course this isn't the end! the mushrooms apparently had a much stronger effect than both of you assumed, effectively sending your fennec foxboy into premature heat, so the only thing on his mind now is to be locked inside you and breed you full <33

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #ugh finally got to write this <33 #i loved it darling :(( #also i'm so sorry you had to wait so long for this :(( #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #tighnari x reader #tighnari smut #tighnari

[iaxsl]

ace falling for sanji at first sight and trying to get his attention. sanji feeling shy at all the attention and getting confused. them stargazing in the desert huddled together because ace is a furnace, and the desert is cold. sharing a kiss under the stars, shy and excited. sanji doesn't back away from this feeling and embraces it. confusion cast aside because he knows he's starting to fall in love too. a tearful departure but a promise to meet again under the stars.

#acesan #i love these two idiots so much #i could write so much more #and maybe one day i will but ugh for now i leave with this #blackleg sanji #portgas d. ace #one piece #sanji #silly thoughts

[softmangoes]

you, the LIs, and a bundle of rope

18+ only

pure! sydney is intrigued. "is this what you needed help with?" he chuckles softly, his golden eyes are so warm, so honey-sweet. you want to drink him, have him melt onto your tongue like communion. when you tug on his chest harness to take his bottom lip between your teeth, he mewls against your mouth.

corrupt! sydney is ecstatic. "beloved," he purrs, his limbs ensared by the rope you carefully wove around him. a bead of drool glistens in the corner of his mouth as the vibrator hums inside of him. "why don't you come a little closer?" his tongue, wet and pink, traces his lips. there's hunger in his eyes. "it's been too long since i've tasted you."

whitney fights you. "fucking freak," he spits, struggling to free himself. you knew he would be difficult and you certainly have a few more bruises. and yet, you can't help but admit that he looks so cute all helpless like that, fury twisting his flushed face. his protests quiet once you take him into your mouth, his snarls turning into nothing more than breathy huffs.

there's a glazed look in kylar's eyes. "m-my love?" he stutters, straining against the rope constricting his arms. tears begin to well in his eyes. you are so far. too far. can't you see that he needs you? why can't you hold him? it's only when you straddle him and take him inside that he finds his breath, planting desperate kisses along your chest as you fuck him into a whimpering mess.

"you thought this would work?" eden scoffs, breaking free with ease. he's on you before you can even realize it, tying your wrists to the bedpost with the practiced grace of years of trapping prey. his breath is hot on your neck, his teeth sharp. "it'll take a lot more than that to keep me from you," he growls, taking ahold of your hips before thrusting into you.

robin laughs. "i didn't know you were into this stuff," he says. you trail your fingers along his skin, grazing the knots across his chest. his breath hitches as you reach between his thighs, his length twitching against the warmth of your palm. he licks his lips, nervous. a blush spreads across his face. "you'll be gentle with me...right?"

"you think that can bind me?" the wraith croons curiously, the rope phasing through him. a cool tentacle wraps around you, pulling you into his embrace. fingers slip under your shirt as his tendrils caress your thighs. they sink into you while a pair of luminescent eyes train on you, amused. his gaze is depthless and full of a desire you cannot begin to fathom. the tentacle curls within you, making you moan against his neck. "we are already bound, droplet."

#degrees of lewdity #dol fic #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #whitney the bully #kylar the loner #robin the orphan #eden the hunter #ivory wraith #i wanted to try something different and for the past week i've been thinking about shibari lol #this was written with a defiant!pc in mind #i added ivory because i love them and they're so pretty ugh #my writing

[calumfmu]

i really love your fics! could i request steve x f’girl reader? i love flipping tropes on their heads!

Hiiii!! Thank you so much <3 Sorry that this took so long, I'm getting out of a writer's rut, but this definitely helped me. I hope that this sufficed. I wasn't sure how smutty you wanted it, so I kinda met you in the middle. Steve x Fuckgirl!Reader 18+ mdni; smut-ish, heavy petting, making out, premature orgasm (lol quick Steve), allusions to sex, 4.4k+ words (Jesus h Christ, Im trying I swear)

It was late in Hawkins when you stumbled into the Family Video, sunset spreading golden orange and yellows across the sky. An overhead bell rang above you, signaling your arrival to the near empty store.

“Welcome in,” you heard a far away, meek voice say to you, you looked up to see a brunette girl, hair cut short and over sized vest hanging over her small frame. You raised your eyebrows in a greeting to her, hand waving slightly in her direction. Noticing how she blushed in response and quickly ducked her head, you laughed to yourself, used to those type of reactions from people—women and men alike.

You recognized her from school, a few years younger than you, was in band or something of the sort. Not really your crowd to hang with, but someone you briefly remembered from that time. She ran over to say something to another worker a few feet away from the counter, stumbling over her feet in the process.

Searching through horror films, you were bent at the waist, blue denims squeezing your hips in all the right places. Running your fingers over the VHS cases, you were startled by a hip crashing into the shelf next to you. The man to which it belonged to faked his cool, leaning against the shelf with one elbow, and his other hand running through his hair, smoothing it back into place.

Giving him a once-over with a raised eyebrow, you stood to your full height. He smiled at you, brown puppy dog eyes crinkling behind the size of the grin.

“Welcome to Family Video,” he rushed, sticking a hand out for you to shake. You eyed the hand briefly, smile toying at the corners of your mouth as you reached up to meet it.

“I think she’s got you beat, big boy,” you laughed, nodding your head over to the brunette who leaned over the counter to watch your interaction. Upon noticing you look at her, she turned around quickly, pressing random buttons on the cash register as if she hadn’t been staring.

The man turned to look at her, red blush covering his cheeks. “We just like to give all of our customers equal satisfaction, if you know what I mean.”

You gave him a face, wincing at the attempt of flirting he tried giving you. Turning back to the tapes, you were set on ignoring him, not really interested in his attempt for… whatever this was. He didn’t let up, choosing to straighten up and adjust his collar, fixing his sleeves as you found sudden interest in a description of a movie.

He cleared his throat, “I’m Steve. Steve Harrington.”

His hand shot out again for you to shake, dropping it once he realized he had already done that. The girl’s laughter in the background urged some of your own, this man—Steve—being the worst at flirting you had ever seen in your life.

Clearing his throat, his voice was shaky as he said, “What can I help you find today?”

You briefly looked at him, noticing the confidence he had that flowed off of him. It was in the wrong place though, his flirting, if you could call it that, was all terribly wrong, nothing of the sort that you would expect from someone with his looks. There was something about him though, something that made him seem like he knew what he was doing even if his efforts were being missed. You could tell he had some sort of game, it all being lost on you.

“Think I’m managing just fine here.”

He chewed at the inside of his lip, seemingly wondering how to get around the rejection you gave him, short answers not giving him any room to continue. You grabbed a different movie off the shelf, satisfied with it as you turned to move towards the counter. He blocked your path, chest broad as his arms were crossed over it.

You ran your eyes over his chest, admiring the way the material stretched taut over muscle, showing off biceps you would love to imagine wrapped around you. Smirking up at him, you indulged in the feeling, ready to have some fun with the nervous boy stood in front of you.

“I can give you a few suggestions, hon.” The nickname had you staring up at him, eyebrows shooting up yet again. “Little Shop of Horrors? Really, I don’t think someone like you should be watching that alone.”

You pushed past him, fingers at your side lingering at his waist as you walked up to the counter to rent out. The girl—Robin, her name tag read—moved to help you, only to get knocked out of the way by Steve, his hurried attempt to make it around. Squinting your eyes at him, you shook your head, humour finding you as you realized his attempts wouldn’t stop.

“Watch it, shithead,” she grumbled, bumping him with her shoulder as she replaced him on the floor.

“Good thing I’m not watching it alone,” you smiled up at him, placing an ID on the counter for him to run your information. He said your name out loud, eyebrows wiggling at the mention of it. Rolling your eyes, you continued. “I’ve got a date with Billy Hargrove.”

Your thumb pointed outside, a blue Camaro parked outside the store that he noticed for the first time. Its loud engine could be heard from inside the store, rumbling so deeply you could feel it if you stopped long enough. His face fell, fingers faltering at the computer as he looked over at you.

“Billy? Seriously?”

You giggled, leaning across the counter as you decided to play into the game he was attempting—yet failing so miserably at. You smirked as his eyes dipped at your chest, noticing the way your low scooped top exposed more than it should’ve of. He tried to cover it up, clearing his throat as he made his return to the computer.

“Oh shit, did you have a date with him too?”

The look he gave you was incredulous, eyes deadpan as they cut to you.

“I’m just saying… not the best option,” he pointed to the tape in front of you, “to watch on a date with Hawkin’s worst option.”

You leaned even further, voice dropping lower. “Yeah, I don’t think the plan is to exactly… watch the movie.”

His face flushed as he turned to look at you, sliding the ID back over to you. Your eyes were hungry as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, audible gulp filling the room. This was your favorite part about being the town’s “most eligible bachelorette”, watching people crumble around you even when you did nothing.

“Well, what are you doing after?” He leaned into your space, face closer to yours as he tried mustering up the confidence he once had. “Bet I could show you a better time than that Hargrove guy.”

A small tapping sound filled the tense air as your fingers moved across the counter, imitating a walking motion with your index and middle. You trailed them up to Steve, ‘walking’ them up his body until you met the junction of his jaw, hand reaching out to lightly rub him on the cheek.

Your fingers traced the light dusting of stubble, feeling the prick of the hairs underneath your fingertips. His eyes were focused on you as you touched him, eyes low with a glimmer behind them.

“Is that so, Steve Harrington?” You pouted at him, his eyes clouding over as your hand ran across his cheek to trial to his hair. The sound of his name on your lips had him gaping, teeth running across the expanse of his bottom lip. Giving his hair a light tug, he leaned into it, mouth dropping as you removed it, placing it back onto the counter.

You leaned in closer to his face, inches away from his mouth as he subconsciously moved closer to you as well. From the close proximity, you could feel his breath on your lips, the scent of spearmint hitting you. His eyes remained low, fixated on your mouth.

Right as he leaned in to close the distance, you moved away. “Maybe next week I could pencil you in, I’ve got another date at 10. Busy gal.”

You gave him the fakest smile you could manage, grabbing the tape before turning on your heel. Making your way to the door, you turned around once more, noticing the way his eyes were glued to your hips.

“I’ll be back Friday,” you said, his eyes shooting up to yours. He seemed stuck in a trance, mouth parted into an ‘o’ as he stared at you, deep red flushed across his cheeks and bridge of his nose. That Robin girl stood in the distance, her own look of shock present on her face as she apparently had been watching the entire interaction. “You know, return policy and all.”

You spun around, swinging the door open as you exited. Robin’s voice was the last you heard in the store, ‘The Scoops legacy continues.’ Billy’s car revved at you, engine blaring through as you swung your body inside.

“Took long enough, sweetheart?” His sunglasses were low on his nose as he looked over them at you. You fought the eye roll you wanted to give him, the smacks he gave to his gum overwhelming you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, coy smile on your lips as you reached a hand to place on his thigh. His foot hit the gas again, revving the vehicle as you trailed your fingers over his groin. “Don’t we have somewhere to be?”

The speed in which he pulled out of the parking lot was nearly comical, your head slamming back into the head rear as tires screeched on black asphalt. Thoughts of the Harrington boy filled your mind as your plans with Billy became closer to reality, he wasn’t supposed to be in there—wasn’t supposed to be clouding your judgement especially when your entire MO was not to let anything linger.

The doorbell rang as you were in the middle of throwing a shirt on over your exposed chest, the final bit of credits rolling from the horror movie you picked out. Irritation pricked at the back of your neck, figuring it was Billy, returning due to forgetting something or to finish the job.

Marching over to the front door, you prepared to yell at the blond. You had kicked him out of your place, frustrated as he had a few too many to get it up. He had been pushing at you for weeks, practically begging to get a date with you, and the second he got one, it ended like this. It was disappointing to say the least, yet what was to be expected every now and then from the pick of Hawkins.

Throwing the door open, you hissed, “What do you want, Bill—oh.”

A pleasant surprise. It was Steve, red flowers in one hand and a VHS tape in the other. He looked nervous yet hopeful, tight blue jeans and a crisp polo, covered by a black jacket. Tilting your head, you looked at him in surprise, not expecting him to be at your doorstep. Let alone, not knowing how he even got your address in the first place.

“So, this is the right place,” he beamed, stepping through the front door as you moved to the side, too shocked to even question it.

You closed the front door, following him into the living room as he turned to give you the flowers. You accepted them, looking down at them in shock as he became suddenly nervous, teeth returning to his bottom lip to chew.

Your mouth sputtered briefly, “What is—how did you—Steve, what are you doing here?”

He clasped his hands in front of himself, teetering on his feet as he nervously gazed at you. You felt slightly exposed, a foreign feeling, as you stood there in a plain white t-shirt and pajama bottoms. You crossed your hands at your chest, pushing down the feeling as he stood in front of you. Straightening your posture, your eyebrow arched at him, throat clearing away the thought of him looking so good in front of you.

“Well, you said you were hanging out with Billy to watch, y’know—“ his thumb pointed to the TV, his mouth quirking at the corners awkwardly, “and that’s only like an hour, 30. Then, you said you had a date at 10, leaving you a few hours to, uhh, hang or… something. Busy gal, ya know?”

The repeated words from earlier had you blushing this time, a smile crossing your face as he made himself comfortable. You tried to immediately get rid of it, a step out of character from your usual when it came to boys. His face flushed as he held up the tape he was holding: Fast Times at Ridgemont High. You stared at it and him, eyes jumping back and forth.

“Fast Times. Short runtime. Perfect duo, if you ask me,” he smiled, hair falling into his face as he stepped a bit closer to you. You laughed at him, feeling too shocked to even argue with him.

You led him into the living room, taking the tape into his hands before setting it up in the player. He fell onto the couch with a sigh, leg shaking nervously as he looked around the living room. You made your way over to him, sitting next to him as he looked at you, smile wider than ever.

“How did you know where I lived?” The TV was loud as it started, the two of you jumping at it. The two of you laughed as you realized you had ended up a bit closer to him, hand resting on his thigh. Removing it, you settled back into the couch, clearing your throat as you tried to remain cool. You didn’t like this, how Steve made you nervous despite not doing anything. That was supposed to be your role, he was supposed to be the one falling to your feet.

“What do you think we need your ID for over at the store?”

Shaking your head, you took a good look at him, noticing the way the man had moles dotted around his face, marking him in perfect places. In this moment, you did recognize who he was, him being a year below you when you used to run Hawkins High. He had stepped up to bat by the time you hit your junior year, rumors of him running rampant around the school. Based on this version of him that stood in front of you, you couldn’t tell what had happened to him—where his confidence and irresistible charm had gone.

“You’re so—“

“Smart?” He finished for you, blushing. “Nah, I can’t take credit for that. It’s all Robin, she’s, like, my wing-woman at this point.”

As the movie started, he began to relax, settling into the couch, and his palms rubbed the cloth over his knees, legs parted. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, yet body turned to him, engaged in conversation that allowed you to get to know the man in front of you. The movie was a blur in the background, the two of you facing each other, inches away with hands just shy of touching each other.

The landline rang, pulling you out of the conversation, Steve’s gaze lingering on you for a second too long as you contemplated picking it up.

“You’re not going to get that?” The drop in his voice had you distracted, mind wanting to hear just how low it could get.

“Uhhh… I’m just going to let it go,” you answered, leaning into him. The phone went silent, his eyes briefly darting to it before returning to you. You were much closer to him now, your tongue licking at the corner of your mouth. “Can I try something, Steve?”

“Uh huh,” he whispered, hand shooting up to place on your cheek as you leaned in. Your lips met, two pairs of eyes fluttering shut. He was soft, lips fitting snug into the shape of yours, tongue warm as it found its way into your mouth.

“You’re gonna get it now?” He muttered against your lips with a slight smile, pressing soft kisses to you. You hadn’t even noticed the phone was ringing again, too caught up in the way his fingers felt in your hair, the other planted softly at the base of your neck.

“I guess I should,” you didn’t even open your eyes, continuing the kiss as you began to straddle him, pressing him into the plush couch cushion. The phone went silent once more, only to be ringing again, in what seemed like a more urgent matter if that was even possible.

“For fuck’s sake,” you exclaimed, pushing off of him as you stormed over to it. “Who is it?”

Steve’s face was flushed, his hands adjusting his hair and pulling at the rumbled front of his shirt. He sat up slowly, pressing the back of his hand to his cheeks to cool them as he began to notice how flustered he had become. You trailed your eyes over him from across the room, hunger in your eyes.

“Oh, Billy—hey.”

The name had Steve stiffening, his face dropping as you continued the phone call. He directed his attention to the television once more, pretending to tune out the conversation, yet you knew he was listening.

Billy’s words in your ear were droning on, a blabber of speech that sounded strikingly similar to the parents in the Peanuts cartoons. You fought the eye roll, even if he couldn’t see it, you had to save face in front of Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, babe…” You spoke to him, putting up your best good girl voice that normally works in this situation. Steve’s head ticked slightly in your direction, eyes squinting barely. “Of course, we can try again. Anytime.”

Steve stood up, hands dusting over his jean pockets as he dug his foot into the carpet. He seemed as if he didn’t know what to do with himself, hands moving from in his pockets to outside to crossed at his chest to finally rest at his hips. He cleared his throat, you pulled the phone away from your ear to listen for his next words.

“Hey, uhh, I think I’m going to get going,” he muttered, face flushed as he pointed his thumb towards the front door. As he went to go turn, you hung up on Billy, ignoring his shout of protest as it hit the hook.

“Wait! You’re leaving?” You asked, rushing over to him as his back was turned to you. You placed your hands on his shoulders, fingers urging him to sit down before you returned to your previous position, knees caging in his hips, your bum pressed firm into his lap. His fingers came to rest at your fingers, spread wide over the expanse of skin, slightly pushing up your pajama top.

“I… you seemed busy,” he sounded distracted as you began to press kisses to his neck. His head hit the back cushion, hips rutting up into yours before he could even think of it. You ground down on him, a roll of your hips pulling a guttural moan from him.

“Can’t we have some fun first, Steve?”

His eyes fluttered shut at your hips worked magic over his, the bulge in his jeans growing by the second as your fingers explored his chest, finally feeling the firm press of muscle beneath them. Meeting his lips again, you pushed the kiss further, licking into his mouth with a fervor behind it.

He placed a hand in your hair, pulling you into him as your chest pressed against him, pants escaping your mouths.

“It’s okay, Steve,” You whispered against his mouth, arching up into him. He was beyond hard in this moment, grinding up into you as you worked him, movements slow, yet calculated over him. “I’m yours for tonight.”

He nodded into the kiss, pulling his hand towards the front of your sleep shorts, fingers dipping below the waist band to brush over your pubic bone. You gasped at the feeling, head pulling away from him to look down at his hand disappearing behind your shorts. His fingers brushed over you, slight pressure applied to your clothed clit.

You arched into the touch, your own hand coming to rub at the front of his pants, brushing over his bulge pressing at the front. The two of you became breathless, heavy pants filling the room as you rubbed at each other. His fingers moved in circles over you, the material of your panties separating the skin-on-skin contact dampening with each movement.

“You know, I’ve—“ his voice was strained, caught in his throat as he spoke, eyes low as he looked up at you on top of him. “I’ve always had a crush on y—“

You kissed him again, swallowing his words as the confession left your mouth. Your heart began to pound in your chest, arousal briefly leaving at the words. That was something you didn’t do, no, definitely not. He wasn’t going to sit here, look pretty as he fell apart, and confess his true feelings for you.

His breath hitched even further as you slipped your hand into the waistband of his jeans, gripping him through the thin material of his boxers. Fuck, of course, he’s huge, you thought to yourself. His looks, of course, weren’t enough for him.

The grasp on him had him mewling, hips coming up off the couch as you felt around, giving him light tugs. He tried keeping up the movements with his own fingers on you, failing as he fell apart under your touch. With a low moan, his hips stilling as he came, eyes squeezed shut with his chest heaving rapidly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, tongue darting out to dampen his red, kiss-swollen lips. You kissed its traces, giggling at him as he opened his eyes to meet you. You were tempted to sit there for a moment, get lost in the deep amber of his eyes, find yourself a home there. That wasn’t your MO, you couldn’t bring yourself to do that.

You pulled yourself from him, clambering off of him as you adjusted the front of your clothing. Glancing back at the tape forgotten on the tv, the credits began to roll, the distorted flashing of the Ridgemont Mall showing on screen.

“Hey, you didn’t even—“

You cut him off, smiling as you began to walk towards the tape, turning it off as you spoke, “You better get going.”

You handed him the tape, tucked into its sleeve as he sat on the couch, shirt ruffled up, pants loose at the waist, dark patch wet at the front. He glanced down at himself, embarrassment flooding his cheeks at the state he was in.

“What about…” He didn’t finish his words, shaking his head as he stood up off the couch. You sat in silence with one another as he fixed himself, his hands running through tendrils that lay across his forehead.

Walking him to the front door, you chewed at your bottom lip, feet shuffling under you as he stood in the door frame. You avoided eye contact, hand clasped on the door as he stood there, searching for something to say. You felt if you looked at him, you would cave, would give in to feelings that you knew would be bad for you.

“Could I, at least, see you again?”

The sound of his voice had you looking at him, heart beating faster as he looked so sincere with the porch light casting a halo around him. He looked unraveled, yet in the best way, cheeks still coloured red from his high.

You went to shake your head, wanted to explain your thing when it came to situations like this, yet you found yourself pausing in the movement. His confession earlier stung at you, eating away at a part of you that was surprising to even be there in the first place. Reluctantly, you nodded, ignoring the beam he gave you immediately.

“Friday,” you supplied, knuckles lightening in color as you gripped the wood. As he opened his mouth to speak, you covered it quickly, “Return policy and all.”

The joy was gone from him, smile falling just as quickly as he gave it to you. If there was any time for you to feel like a villain, it was now—this opportunity feeling like taking candy from a child. Only it was worse. Yet he had to know this was just how you operated, his own rumors that once circled the town not straying far from your own. Turning on his heel, his head was low as he made his way down your walkway.

Slowly, you shut the door behind him, eyes fluttering shut as you leaned to rest your forehead against it. The feeling of guilt in your chest was inexcusable, the length of time you had even known this boy too short to make up for it. His confession earlier lingered in your brain, wondering what might have happened if you urged him on, pressing details of his crush.

You fought the thoughts for the rest of the night, ignoring them as you were pressed into the back seat of another boy’s car at Lover’s Lake. Had to focus on the feeling of the stranger’s hands on you, the feeling of him inside of you as windows became steamier, clothes were shed. Notches on your belt were what they seemed, nothing too much to think about as you ignored the gnawing in your chest.

Friday came and went, Robin standing behind the counter as you pressed the tape over the counter into her hands. The boy that remained on your mind was nowhere to be seen, missing from the floor as your eyes searched the heads appearing in between aisles of films. And if when you asked about his whereabouts and Robin gave you an answer alluding to him coming down with something, you definitely did not fight the feeling to be upset, figuring it was just as much nothing to him as it was to you. You didn’t call Billy back that night, didn’t pretend it was Steve instead who was kissing you, arching you down in a way you would’ve loved to be with him with.

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

#my writing #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington smut #smut #loser!steve #ugh love him #that's my baby #I hope you enjoyed this #requests

[bri-cheeses]

“Have you ever been in love?”

The question seems to take Evan by surprise. “What?”

Barty repeats the question, shifting up into a sitting position. His hands dig into the ground, still damp from last night’s rain. “Have you ever been in love?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, looking down at his feet, Evan quietly answers, “Yes.”

Suddenly, Barty is mad at himself for asking. He can’t even say why he asked in the first place; he simply had the thought, and being the impulsive person he is, he asked without thinking. Now he wishes he hadn’t, if only to have avoided this odd burning in his chest caused by Evan’s answer. And really, he should drop the topic, based on downcast tint to Evan’s response, but he can’t seem to let it go. So instead, he presses the issue.

“When?” he asks, looking intently at Evan.

At that, Evan looks to his left, purposely avoiding eye contact with Barty. He stubs out his cigarette on the grass next to him, a thin curl of smoke rising up from it as he does so. “A long, long time ago.” His voice is dark with something Barty can’t name.

“Did it end well?”

Evan cuts him a look. “Who said it ended?”

At his words, something twists inside Barty. Suddenly there’s a lump in his throat as he works to get out his next sentence. “Well, you said a long time ago. So I thought that it was a, uh, past thing.”

“Yeah. It was a long time ago. When I… fell in love.”

Barty knows he’s the one who started this conversation, but he really hates the way Evan says love in reference to some mystery person. At least he used past tense, though, meaning it’s a thing of the past.

“So what happened?” Barty questions.

“They didn’t want me in the way I wanted them. Still don’t want me that way.” There’s something bitter in Evan’s tone, and he’s gone back to refusing to look at Barty. In contrast, Barty stares at him intently. He feels as though he’ll be able to see through Evan’s exterior and into his insides, where all his secrets are hidden, if he only looks hard enough.

“Who was it?”

“Does it matter?” Evan’s voice is biting as he sharply turns his head back towards Barty.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Barty leans back onto his elbows, tearing his gaze from Evan. It’s almost comical how their positions have changed; now, Evan stares at Barty, and Barty looks out over the lake in an effort to avoid his gaze.

“It was no one important, okay?”

“Oh.” Something settles in Barty when he hears that, even if Evan’s tone contrasts with his dismissive words. “They were—still are—an idiot, though. Just for the record.”

Evan laughs in that disbelieving way of his, as if he’s sharing an inside joke with himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Barty says definitively. “I mean, you’re perfect. And whoever can’t see that is an idiot.”

“Perfect?”

“Yup.” Barty means it, too.

“Yeah, well,” Evan scoffs, “it isn’t good enough for them. So it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, you’re good enough for me,” Barty says hotly. “So don’t worry about that asshole. Because and me? We’re best friends, and you’ll always be good enough for me. You know that, right?”

Evan is avoiding Barty’s gaze again. He picks at the grass next to him, focusing on that instead. “Right,” he says somewhat bitterly.

“I mean it,” Barty insists. “You are.”

Evan looks at him, smiling sadly. “Thanks, Bee. But it’s getting cold. I think I’ll head back inside if that’s all right with you.”

“I—okay. Yeah, uh, sure.”

With that, Evan gets up and begins the walk back to the castle. Barty watches him go, thinking their entire exchange over.

He’s not entirely sure where the conversation went sour enough to get Evan to leave, but clearly something must’ve caused his abrupt departure. Even if Barty had thought he had said the right things to get Evan to cheer up again. He had meant what he said, too; Evan always would be good enough for him. Barty honestly couldn’t imagine a better best friend.

So Evan shouldn’t, Barty thinks heatedly, have ever been hung up on some asshole who couldn’t even see how amazing he is.

Barty continues to sit there, close to the shore of the lake, and watches Evan’s retreating form. And as he watches Evan reach up to wipe at his eyes, trying and failing to act like it was nonchalant gesture, he resolves to find out who Evan was talking about. And he’s going to make them, whoever it may be, pay for how they hurt Barty’s best friend.

#Barty you IDIOT #ugh #also Evan never said that it ended buddy #just that he fell in love a while ago (translation: Evan knows how to dodge questions) #also did u not notice that he kept switching between past and present tense #also Barty’s repeated insistence that Evan is perfect AS HIS BEST FRIEND #ah my heart #i want to grab Barty by the shoulders and shake some sense into him #i say that as if i’m not the one writing this #btw someone needs to take the angst away from me because i’m having wayy too much fun with it #rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #marauders era #rosekiller microfic #bri’s microfics

[dawnbreakersgaze]

Excuse me but the idea of MC and Xav sitting on their respective balconies and texting each other The Tea while people watching in their neighborhood is both so silly and so endearing to me.

So let's go on a small adventure, shall we?

Warnings: None.

Just fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff.

The late morning sun was already warming you through the windows of your tiny apartment before you'd even stepped foot outside. It was finally mid-spring in Linkon, which meant you could enjoy your late breakfast on the patio without having to worry about a stray chill or errant frost dampening your weekly Saturday 'brunch' plans.

Opening the patio door with your granola bar in one hand and phone in the other, you settle into the cushioned bench that overlooked your apartment courtyard and took a deep breath. Sometimes it felt like winter was neverending in Linkon, but you could finally feel the tension of the gripping cold that had settled in your bones start to slowly bleed from you.

After getting comfortable, you finally pulled out your phone, and quickly found your brunch 'date's' contact info, sending him the customary "Get up it's people watching hour" text.

[Hey Xav, you up? I'm already on my balcony?]

It doesn't take long for his reply. This has been your weekly tradition for a few months now. Ever since you had both just so happened to see that kid getting dragged down the street by the monstrous hound, it had become something of a... habit for the two of you to text each other the funny happenings on your street when you were home. Not that either of you were particularly prone to gossip, but the simple domesticity of it was oddly comforting after a long week of getting slogged on by wanderers.

[Yeah I'm up. Give me a sec]

The soft ping of your notification broke the peace, followed shortly by the shuffling of his patio door sliding open from above you. Sure, you could simply call out and greet him, as the acoustics out here are great and the soundproofing is atrocious, but the silence is cozy, and the atmosphere almost feels magical. This is your ritual, after all.

It's a bit like a storybook scene, you think, the two of you sharing a moment in time together yet still separated by some outside force. Maybe it was silly, but the fabricated longing almost made it feel romantic in a way that you're sure your neighbor would find ridiculous.

When you hear his footsteps above you come to a halt, you immediately notice something in particular is missing, however.

[You forgot your coffee Xav. Are you gonna be able to stay awake?]

[How could U tell?]

[I didn't smell any burning 🤭🔥]

He doesn't reply, but you can hear the huff he makes over the railing as his footsteps retreat, fading behind the sliding door once again. You don't even try to hold back the laughter his reaction elicits from you, hopeful the concrete carries it to him easily.

When he finally does reemerge, faint smell of bitter charred beans on the wind, his phone is already buzzing with the morning's newest additions to your people watching portfolios.

An older man you'd long ago dubbed "Green Thumb" who liked to frequent the flower garden outside your apartment complex was already taking photos of the new stargazer lily blossoms that had just opened this morning. So enamored by the vibrant petals, he didn't even seem to notice the couple he'd backed into who'd happened to spill their groceries all over the sidewalk. You heard Xavier call "Watch out!" From above you when he'd recognized the impending impact, but at your distance, it was no use.

[That was nice of you Xav. Too bad it didn't help 🫠]

[I can't believe they didn't see Green Thumb. He was so hard to miss. Even when Ur distracted U still see better]

[HEY! I'm not the one who sleep walks! 💀]

[And yet I'm always there to guard Ur back partner]

He's right of course, though you're not going to tell him. Xavier likes to play the part of a soft and harmless little thing, but it doesn't take much to stoke the hunter into burning hotter than you intended. His evol might be light, but you know better than anyone that light, under careful concentration, can start a blazing fire if you're not mindful. His teasing isn't ever harmful though, so instead you decide to simply poke the bear.

[Only because I'm starting to suspect you like it back there]

The distinct sound of a phone accidentally hitting the concrete marks the end of that thread.

Its not long before another of your regulars, pair of young kids Xavier had called the Trouble Twins arrived on scene. Aptly named for the number of times their poor mother has chastised them for chasing the ducks and picking the flowers, the siblings were quite the rambunctious duo. Today they seem to be a few steps ahead of their vigilant mother, rushing into the park with high-pitched hollers and improvised swords made of small branches they'd found. Today's unfortunate conquest seemed to be the pigeons that were being fed by the local grannies.

[They look like a pair of knights today don't they?]

[Knights? Don't knights usually protect people?]

[Maybe they're protecting us from the pigeons]

[Xavier those old ladies look pretty mad idk. That one even tried to chase the boy and almost caught him!]

The pause in messages was punctuated by his soft laughter above you, carried on the spring breeze. It was so warm, so genuine, so comfortable. You didn't need a mirror to feel the heat bloom in your cheeks; the overwhelming sensation of ardor flooding you at the the very sound.

[You're right. He needs more training. A good Knight should never be caught by an old lady]

[.... I don't think that's the message here Xav]

The rest of your morning goes back and forth like this for another hour. Watching your favorite people pass by, concocting new and interesting stories for them as they pass your balconies. Xavier has very interesting and oddly insightful opinions on those around him, considering you don't really recall seeing him with many friends. None the less, his company and companionship on your balconies has easily become your favorite part of the week. The only noises between you are the laughter that passes back and forth as the texts volley from one to another.

Finally, as the afternoon sun starts to become an uncomfortable heat, your phone chimes once more.

[I'm getting kind of hungry]

[Oh good. You're warning me this time. Thanks!]

[What?]

[No. I was going to ask if U wanted to go to lunch. With me, I mean?]

And just like that, the storybook was snapping shut. No longer a fragment lost in time where two people gazed at the same scene together from two separate places, but a tangible moment you could step into. Something intimate and real.

Perhaps you stayed in this thought a moment too long, or your silence below him made him second guess himself, as the chime of your phone snapped you out of your daze again.

[I didn't mean to impose if U have plans]

[I know it's Ur day off too]

Fumbling with the suddenly slippery device, softly cursing, and praying he didn't hear, you quickly hammer out the only thing that's been playing in your head on repeat-

[Yes absolutely! I'd love to grab some lunch I'm starving]

[Meet me downstairs in 30?]

#look i had 3 hours of sleep and i chose to this idk why #written in a single go like a psychopath #and now im going to bed gnight ♡ #lnds #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love & deepspace #xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier lnds #xavvy baby #kay writes #this text was just too cute I had too i was over come with emotions #god why is Xavier so adorable ugh #so soft boy sometimes i love himb #also- #not proofread we die like men #sorry im Le~ tired ill edit tomorrow

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Killua and the Power of Wishes

Okay going to try and make this coherent because the amount of wish association all through Killua's character development makes me want to chew plaster.

As a fair warning, this analysis ended up being long as hell, and I didn't even include everything I could've said. This is also just one lens to analyze Killua's story arc with, and I feel there are other valid interpretations of some of these moments. This is just one of mine, so keep that in mind please.

One last warning that this analysis does discuss emotional manipulation and abuse, as is par for Killua's background.

Let's set the stage with one important piece of info: Killua's birthday.

Killua's birthday is July 7th, the same day as Tanabata. Tanabata is a folklore-rich festival where according to legend, the two lovers, weaver Orihime and cowherd Hikoboshi, represented by the two stars, Vega and Altair, are allowed to reunite once a year after separation. A popular custom of Tanabata is to make wishes by writing them down on tanzaku, then hang it on a bamboo tree so that the wish might one day come true.

Tanabata is also known as the Star Festival. Please keep this in mind, because I'm going to come back to it.

To finish setting up the lens for this analysis, I'm going to need to dig into the game-changer scene for Killua's early characterization - his confrontation with Illumi at the end of the Hunter Exam, and specifically, the exact nature of Illumi's manipulation of him.

I say "game-changer" because it really is - up until this point, it's kind of fair to not fully know what to think about Killua. Certainly, he seems excited to hang out with Gon (he approached him first, after all) and he's friendly enough, but he's also arrogant and claims to be motivated mainly by boredom. For all intents and purposes, Killua seems set up to be Gon's dangerous yet charismatic rival... but then this scene happens and it completely turns it all on its head.

Because Killua may have mentioned his family was controlling before, but he seriously downplayed the severity of it - likely because he has no point of reference for how awful his situation actually is other than it makes him feel bad and trapped. Illumi's appearance immediately shifts our understanding of Killua from runaway murder kid with annoying murder family to straight-up victim of emotional abuse, and dissolves his cockiness instantly to terror.

What does all this have to do with wishes? Glad you asked. Let's look at some of Illumi's dialogue.

[ID: A screenshot from HxH episode 20 of the 2011 anime. Killua looks up, sweating and conflicted, as Illumi tells him "You don't want anything or wish for anything." End ID.]

This is the crux of Illumi's (and the family's) control. Killua's desires do not align with the family trade. They must be excised from him.

When Killua insists that he does have something that he really wants, Illumi says "Tell me what it is you want", in a mockery of a certain other sibling who would have helped fulfill this wish - Illumi asks only so he can completely dismantle it. And Killua isn't even really surprised at Illumi's words, just heartbroken. You can tell this isn't the first time this sort of thing has happened.

Killua states his wish quite fervently; he really means it. But his words are not rebellious, nor cathartic. Instead, he answers Illumi quietly, as if fearful or ashamed, almost reminiscent of a sinner's confession.

[ID: Two screenshots from HxH episode 20 of the 2011 anime. In the first Killua looks down with a troubled expression, saying "I want to become friends with Gon...". In the second, his face is hidden as he stands with hands clenched at his sides with a spotlight on him. He says "I'm sick of killing people..." End ID.]

It's such an innocent, simple want.

And Illumi proceeds to make him feel like even something so simple is harmful and selfish of him... not to the family, but to Gon.

In a matter of a few minutes, Illumi breaks down Killua's wish by:

Acknowledging this desire, but twisting it into something that will inevitably fade over time, thereby causing Killua to doubt his own conviction and feelings -> "Gon is a novelty, a radiant presence who has piqued your curiosity. No more than that."

Acknowledging that Gon is someone important to Killua, and undermining this by telling him that by his very nature, he will eventually bring harm to Gon, which makes him feel as though Killua cannot trust himself to be a good friend -> "If you try to be friends with him, you will one day want to kill him... because you are, by nature, a murderer." (As a... delightful... bonus, this is also apparently how Silva and Illumi justify their treatment of Killua to him - "This is the essence of your existence and we taught you accordingly." Like they adapted to Killua's nature, instead of them molding Killua into who they wanted him to be.)

Delivering an ultimatum - to fight Illumi and win, or else Gon will die - that Killua is doomed to fail due to his upbringing and the needle in his head. Since Killua doesn't know about the needle, he assumes this is his own personal failure, something Illumi feeds into -> "You're just not qualified to make friends."

And it's the last point that breaks him. The first two shoot down Killua's present wish, but the last proceeds to shatter any hope he might've had of wishing for anything similar in the future - he has told him that his desires are weak, temporary, inherently dangerous to those around him, and worst of all, aren't enough on their own for him to deserve friendship and love from others. And the clincher: Killua feels like all of this is his own fault, that there is something inherently dangerous and wrong with him!

So, it doesn't even matter to Killua anymore if he fails the Hunter Exam. To him, he just failed the only test that mattered.

10/10 manipulation, Illumi. Fuck you, seriously.

Killua's character arc is mainly his quest and struggle to refute Illumi's arguments and to shake off the manipulation and the ways in which his family have molded and controlled him. And by far, the most difficult part of his conditioning to shake off is this idea that he is undeserving of anything more than what he is already given.

It's almost like the family has drilled it into him that wishes are dangerous. How interesting.

Thankfully, however, there are two parties to Killua's wish here - Gon, too, is a part of it, and it is not simply his reciprocated desire to be Killua's friend that saves him, but also his recognition of Killua's situation for what it is (notably, when no one else correctly identified the true issue).

"You know it wasn't his choice. You manipulated him, kidnapping his spirit!"

The ensuing Zoldyck family arc emphasizes that Gon is 100% correct: the main hold Killua's family has on him isn't physical - it's all emotional.

Killua breaks one of his shackles when Milluki threatens to have his new friends killed, but he only breaks the rest when Zeno tells him he's free to go. So, if Killua could break loose at any point, was this still a rescue like Gon said?

Well, yes - just because he absolutely could've broken out physically at any time, that does not mean he could just leave. That's the nature of situations such as this - it's not as simple as "just leaving". Support is necessary, as is actually having something tangible outside the situation to go to - otherwise there is little point to leaving at all. Gon (and Kurapika and Leorio) showing up to free Killua showed him that his wish was reciprocated and allowed him to break one cuff - this is the start of his journey, but he still has a long ways to go. Notably, he again hesitates and closes off when Silva asks what he wants.

[ID: Three panels from HxH chapter 42. In the first, Silva asks Killua "...would you like to see [Gon]?" Killua's expression is complicated in the next panel - he's closed off and uncertain. Silva continues "Be honest, Kil... what do you want?" End ID.]

Killua will backtalk and casually break his shackles and death glare his family... but he's too fearful to voice his wants aloud.

And once again, asked by his father what he wants, he is subtly set up to fail. His wish is granted, but made conditional - "Do not betray your friends", something Killua is regrettably set up to do by virtue of the needle in his head that he, again, doesn't know about. Silva fully expects him to fail and come back home, disillusioned, believing it's his own fault due to his "nature", and trusting in Silva still as a "reasonable" figure in his life.

This condition placed on his friendship is what drives much of Killua's fear and insecurity with regards to Gon for much of the series - the idea that Killua has to earn his right to friendship, and that if he doesn't, he will lose it, one way or another.

It really makes me wish that Killua had actually gotten to hear Gon's views on friendship from the beginning of the Zoldyck Family arc, because it entirely refutes this entire philosophy. He even outright refuses to go through the Testing Gates at first, purely because he thinks the sentiment of needing to prove yourself just to be friends is completely outrageous - he only relents because there is no other way.

[ID: Two screenshots from episodes 21 and 22 of the 2011 HxH anime adaptation. Gon looks up at Illumi and firmly states "[Killua] doesn't need to earn the right to be my friend!" In the second, Gon's face is seen in profile and close up as he asks "Why would you test your friends?" End ID.]

I doubt it would've truly prevented Killua's insecurity from manifesting even if he had heard this, to be honest - his issues with usefulness are very deep-rooted in his upbringing - but still, it would've been nice for him to hear, I think.

However, that's not to say that this exact sentiment doesn't come through in their interactions.

Gon, as Killua's friend, cares about what Killua actually wants and wants to make sure Killua knows that - and that's part of what makes the Whale Island conversation between them really important.

[ID: Two images, both of the same scene from HxH chapter 64, and episode 37 of the 2011 anime. In the manga panel, Gon has turned his head to look at Killua directly, who looks shocked and taken aback, to say "I like hanging out with you." In the anime screenshot, Gon has turned his whole body to face Killua, and says "I think it's fun to be with you." End ID.]

I see a lot of people chalk this up to just Gon being Gon, but it reads to me as much more deliberate than even his usual honesty. He's turned so he's looking directly at Killua, which is a sure way to make his words come across clearly. The lead up to this is Killua, again, not knowing or being able to vocalize what he wants. He doesn't have a goal to work towards like Gon, he only knows what he doesn't want - he's a mix of envious and admiring towards Gon, who knows what he wants and simply goes for it.

But this conversation makes it clear that they have a shared wish - they both want to be friends, and they'd both like to stay together. It's not about earning, to Gon, it's only about if they both want the same thing - mutual, not conditional. There's a nice almost call-and-response type dialogue here, where Gon asserts that he likes spending time with Killua (very directly lol), then shares that Killua is the first friend his age he's had. This prompts Killua to say that Gon is his first friend ever, and that he does have fun with him. And just like that, Gon replies "Then let's stay together!" and pointedly includes Killua's desire to find a goal in their, now shared, upcoming journey.

Overhead, a shooting star appears in the sky. A mutual wish is granted.

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 64. The night sky is full of stars. In the centre is a shooting star. End ID.]

Hm. Stars. Remember how I told you to keep that in mind, all the way back at the beginning? Their association with Tanabata, making a wish on a shooting star, etc. etc.?

Well, buckle up because this star is going to make you experience so much sadness now.

[ID: Panels from HxH chapter 286. The first is a conversation between Killua and Meleoron where Killua asserts he intends to "go down in flames with [Gon]". When Meleoron looks concerned, Killua brushes off the declaration as a joke. In the second image, Killua is turned away, his outline pale, as Meleoron thinks "Why... did you looks so sad... back there?" The last image is a cloudy night sky filled with stars. At the centre of the panel is a shooting star. End ID.]

Yeah, it makes its reappearance directly after Killua has "jokingly" resolved to die with Gon if it comes down to it, after "since it means nothing to you".

I am assured, in Japanese, the word choice here is 心中 (shinjuu), the word for double suicide, where the intent is to die at the same time in the same manner in order to be reunited in the afterlife. The implication here is that Killua, having increasingly grown insecure in his place by Gon's side but unable to voice this, knowing that Gon is hurtling down the path of no return, thinks back to their conversation under the stars where they both mutually wished to stay together and, because he believes that it is no longer possible for him to help Gon, has resolved to stay by his side in death, and after it.

...holy shit, kid.

[ID: Two screenshots from the 4th ending of the 2011 anime. In the first, Gon and Killua stand back to back as meteors fall around them. In the second, they stand facing away from the audience towards a body of water under a night sky filled with stars - Gon throws a stone, which flashes in the air like a shooting star. End ID.]

And of course, here's the shooting star again in the 2011 anime's Nagareboshi Kirari ending, as well as it being the subject of the song itself and rather explicitly referencing that wish to go on a journey together, to stay together, because... Madhouse hates us. I guess. :'(

What started off as a simple wish for a friend deepened into a wish to always stay by Gon's side. This is largely good at first! Killua is able to explore and experience genuine friendship, to get a taste for freedom, and use the power of his fervent wish to protect his dear friend in order to rid himself of Illumi's needle. However, the more Killua wants, the more he traps these wishes in monologues within his own head and does not voice them aloud. Part of it is that he already feels he's been given much more than he deserves - seeing himself as a creature of darkness and Gon as light - but a greater part of the issue here is not that Killua is afraid to wish for things, but that he is afraid wishing without "compensation" will inevitably lead to horrible repercussions - namely, losing who he loves.

In order to feel worthy of staying with Gon, of earning his friendship, Killua works hard to help Gon achieve his goals, taking on the role of wish grantor, growing to do practically anything needed to support him for seemingly nothing in return - but that's not 100% true. Killua wants at least some appreciation, whether he admits it or not - it's a security thing, and it also clearly makes him happy, even if he's not great at accepting it. He insists in Chimera Ant arc that friends don't need to thank friends, but this declaration always read as very sudden to me or like a rationalization, and it's relevant to remember that this is at the peak of Gon isolating himself and self-destructing before his eyes, and Killua's own insecurity regarding his importance to him.

Killua might not mind doing things without thanks, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like to hear that Gon appreciates him. He clearly does appreciate verbal confirmation of their bond! We know this.

[ID: Two screenshots from the 2011 anime. The first is from episode 61. Killua smiles down at the ground with his hands in his pockets, the colours having gone soft and bright. The second is from episode 70 during the dodgeball match. Gon smiles determinedly in the foreground as Killua looks shocked next to him. End ID.]

Keeping all this in mind, Killua's story, or at least this part of it, couldn't have concluded in a better way than his rescue of Alluka, the wish grantor.

Now, I could probably write an entire other analysis on Alluka and Nanika alone, but for the sake of not making this any longer than I already have, I'm going to go through only a few points. Alluka is incomprehensible to her family because they make no attempt to understand her, with the exception of Killua. The only thing they do seem to understand, when explained to them, is the demands made after Nanika grants a wish - this, of course, fits neatly into their own predetermined views on "earning" and "punishment". However, beyond this, they make no attempt to understand her, and since her power is deemed dangerous and uncontrollable, she is locked away.

They are worried, first and foremost, that Alluka will bring harm to the family, and there's two ways in which this could be true:

As a function of failing to fulfill her requests, of course

Because she, just by existing, threatens the family's status quo

I stated at the beginning that Killua's desires do not align with those of the family business, and he's always apparently been more open to understanding others - he asks Alluka and Nanika questions to understand them, and treats them with respect, while his family are more so focused on subjugating anything that might be a threat. This is what Illumi tried to drill into Killua after all; never fight a superior opponent - everything is about assessments of relative strength, which leaves no room for open-mindedness or getting to know people.

Faced with a daughter who is clearly incomprehensibly powerful, and a son, the would-be inheritor of the family trade, who is showing a disturbing amount of willingness to befriend instead of retreat from her, the family made the decision to excise Alluka not just from where she could "harm" the family power-wise, but also likely to secure their control over Killua, who they then set about practically programming to not have any more wishes for himself, or at least to not be able to vocalize them without fear of loss or retribution.

The family's nickname for Killua is "Kil" or "Killu", which is deeply fascinating to me as a reader - nicknames are expressions of endearment, typically, and I actually don't doubt that here. Killua's family does love him, but their love comes with conditions. He must be molded into the perfect son, and every part of him that doesn't fit must be excised.

So: Killua's memories of Alluka are suppressed with the needle, and she is further cut from his life by dropping the "a" from his name (the Zoldyck children are named like a game of shiratori - Illumi -> Milluki -> Killua -> Alluka -> Kalluto). The nickname is also like a command or order "to kill", which is of course what they want him to do.

Saving Gon through saving Alluka and Nanika forces Killua to have to face down the last and hardest of Illumi's manipulations to shake, and that's the notion that a wish, that kindness and friendship and love, cannot be unconditional without severe repercussions - where the people he cares about get hurt because of him, something he cannot envision being forgiven for.

It's a little sad to me that after spending most of the series struggling against his family's teachings that they didn't lead to Killua betraying Gon at all, as he'd feared... but to him betraying Nanika, by sending her away.

Here is this little girl with a bloodstained past, incredibly powerful and dangerous and capable of amazing feats, treated as some evil thing by those who fear her. But she is kind at heart. Her true strength lies in healing, not killing. And she only takes commands from Killua.

Illumi thinks this is because Killua is the only one with control over her. Killua believes this is because she wants praise. They're both partially correct, but this is not the full reason Nanika does what Killua asks of her.

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 146 of the 2011 anime. In the first, Nanika smiles and says "I love Killua." In the second, Killua looks at her, stricken. End ID.]

Nanika loves him. Everyone has been trying to figure out all these complicated rules and conditions on her wish granting and why Killua is the one exception, but the answer is exceedingly simple. She loves him, and wants to do nice things for him so he can have his wishes granted. It's the only way she knows to get the love that she wants in turn.

Just like her brother, Nanika makes herself useful to earn love and appreciation from someone who accepted her when no one else did.

Even though he knows Nanika just wants to help, he still sees her presence as a danger to the person he sees as pure and innocent who must be protected. He sends her away because her "nature" is to be a threat to Alluka's safety, even if she doesn't intend to be. Killua's fear of Illumi and repercussions causes him to make a horrible mistake.

And Alluka tears into him for it.

[ID: A set of panels from HxH chapter 336. A furious Alluka glares and asks Killua if he made Nanika cry. When Killua stutters, she demands he apologize to her. End ID.]

You tell him, girl.

Oh hey, this looks a little familiar, huh?

"Apologize to Killua!" says Gon to Illumi after Illumi sends Killua away.

Nanika should not be the one punished for the actions of those trying to control her. She certainly shouldn't be forced to leave those she loves, or have to earn love from them.

And neither should Killua.

[ID: Three panels from HxH chapter 336. Alluka yells, tears in her eyes, "If you're going to protect me... you have to protect Nanika too!!" Killua looks shocked, then his eyes widen. End ID.]

It's interesting to me that this is the line that snaps Killua out of his fear enough for him to properly speak with Nanika and apologize. One party cannot receive all the protection, nor can the other only give and give limitlessly.

Killua makes it clear to Nanika when speaking with her that he will protect her, and that she doesn't need to earn affection from people by granting their wishes. He promises they will both be there for each other - Killua will praise her whenever she wants, and not just when she does something for him, but he also doesn't refuse Nanika's desire to grant his wishes. It's mutual, not conditional.

And on the heels of this "betrayal", Killua asks for what he never thought he could receive - forgiveness. And even though Nanika is clearly still very upset...

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 146. In the first, Nanika and Killua face each other, both of them teary. Nanika says "Kay." In the second, he has pulled her into a hug. Nanika is teary, her fingers gripping Killua's back tightly. End ID.]

...she doesn't even have to think about it.

I do think Killua still has a ways to go, but he is in a position right now to learn from his relationship with his sisters about balance - that love is not just selfless devotion, but also allowing those who love you to help you and make you happy too. I think that's what unconditional love is, in a way - supporting and working together with the people you love to make each other's wishes come true.

#oh my god this was supposed to be a brief write-up what happened 😭 #ugh i feel like this is a bit of a mess and there's infinite other little points i could've made or elaborated on or interpreted differentl #but i'm so tired lmao #anyways tldr fuck you illumi you suck #killua is a snarky little shit but he also has so much love in his tiny body and i think we should appreciate him forever and ever #this also accidentally turned into alluka and nanika appreciation. i love them #nanika sweet angel i love you so much i hope you get all the head pats in the world #ghhh i'm so scared this doesn't make sense anymore i've been working on it for almost a week #hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh meta #killua zoldyck #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective. #storyrambles #also that one scene where gon turns to look directly at killua and tells him he has fun being with him makes me jdfhbvsdjfbvh #he's so intense about it i start laughing. no wonder killua basically just went ??!?!?!?! and like. leaned back because i think i would've #done the same lmaoooo #it's very sweet though :') #argh. gotta post. i need to stop hesitating. let's go.