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#and i realized this man is incapable of writing females as being anything other than demanding
runacie · 2 years
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i truly hope whatever trauma in your life lead you to thinking fellow gender-oppressed people are The Enemy and that someone like jk rowling whose stated and obvious political goal is to limit other people’s bodily autonomy is someone worthy of admiration in any feminist setting resolves itself. i hope you find a peaceful route out of being an asshole who only truly cares for your own experiences. i hope one day the world feels safe enough that you are able to actually practice what you preach and understand that tangible empowerment means trans people can do whatever they want with their own bodies. i hope one day you realize that a hate movement which is centered around exclusion rather than equality with poorly developed ahistorical feminist theory is never ever ever ever ever going to give way to liberation. i hope you learn that your binary definition of sex and lacking understanding of gender is not some secret radfem freedom and that this ignorance is no longer is the only thing keeping your pathetic mind feeling safe, so you can leave spaces that would spit you out if you ever actually learned something and challenged your friends rather than associating their own traumas and patriarchical troubles with people who have suffered more to be able to live as their gender than you will ever understand. until that day, however, you will never be a feminist. you will never create positive change. a single trans life is worth more than a thousand terf blogs. i am so glad the entire internet is slowly turning against you and that the people who have every single day pushed for material change and positive policy in favor of liberation and autonomy and gender freedom, which is most trans people, will continue to overall be more approved of in society than you absolute jackasses. you’ve already lost and i’m so blessed to remember that. i am so lucky to be a trans man. bye. have a wonderful day!
At first I was going to reply to this seriously, but since you probably won't read this anyways and would refuse to understand it even if you did I won't bother. This is exactly what I meant when I wrote that trans people and their allies are incapable of sincerely hearing out their opposition. Your entire ask is riddled with ignorance, projection, and idiocy, but it'd be even dumber of me to expect anything more from the type of person who spends their time sending inane anon messages.
You know nothing about me or my life so don't come here and write a cringey fanfiction about me in my inbox. "i truly hope whatever trauma" What? Some of us just possess critical thinking skills, but I suppose you'd be unable to relate. "so you can leave spaces that would spit you out if you ever actually learned something and challenged your friends" What are you even saying? Do you really think I don't believe that you're a man so that I can post on radfem and gender critical spaces online? Do you think the people I know irl care even slightly about the trans movement and my opinion on it? The amount of projection here is staggering.
I am not some malicious villain, I am an ordinary woman who doesn't believe that you can change your sex. You seem to think I am some caricature of a human, that I am a hateful bigot who refuses to be enlightened by the all-knowing, magnanimous trans folx who simply need to reeducate the world. That all I need is to repent, see the light, and accept Jesus trans people in my heart. I don't hate you because I know that you are a woman (although, judging by your writing style you are most likely a juvenile teenage girl).
And by the way, you are not a man, you will never be a man, and I clocked you as a woman from the first three words you sent me. The people in your life may lie to you and say they view you as male but they all knew that you are female the instant they saw you, and they can never erase that. The knowledge that you are a woman colors every interaction anyone will ever have with you, and you cannot and will never escape that. I hope you have a wonderful day as well. ♡
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danny-chase · 3 years
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Reading the 90/00s Robin and Nightwing runs is just...
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He really does the girls dirty...
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army-of-mai-lovers · 3 years
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in which I get progressively angrier at the various tropes of atla fandom misogyny
tbh I think it would serve all of us to have a larger conversation about the specific ways misogyny manifests in this fandom, because I’ve seen a lot of people who characterize themselves as feminists, many of whom are women themselves, discuss the female characters of atla/lok in misogynistic ways, and people don’t talk about it enough. 
disclaimer before I start: I’m not a woman, I’m an afab nonbinary person who is semi-closeted and thus often read as a woman. I’m speaking to things that I’ve seen that have made me uncomfy, but if any women (esp women existing along other axes of oppression, e.g. trans women, women of color, disabled women, etc) want to add onto this post, please do!
“This female character is a total badass but I’m not even a little bit interested in exploring her as a human being.” 
I’ve seen a lot of people say of various female characters in atla/lok, “I love her! She’s such a badass!” now, this statement on its own isn’t misogynistic, but it represents a pretty pervasive form of misogyny that I’ve seen leveled in large part toward the canon female love interests of one or both of the members of a popular gay ship (*cough* zukka *cough*) I’m going to use Suki as an example of this because I see it with her most often, but it can honestly be applied to nearly every female character in atla/lok. Basically, people will say that they stan Suki, but when it comes time to engage with her as an actual character, they refuse to do it. I’ve seen meta after meta about Zuko’s redemption arc, but I so rarely see people engage with Suki on any level beyond “look at this cool fight scene!” and yeah, I love a cool Suki fight scene as much as anybody else, but I’m also interested in meta and headcanons and fics about who she is as a person, when she isn’t an accessory to Sokka’s development or doing something cool. of course, the material for this kind of engagement with Suki is scant considering she doesn’t have a canon backstory (yet) (don’t let me down Faith Erin Hicks counting on you girl) but with the way I’ve seen people in this fandom expand upon canon to flesh out male characters, I know y’all have it in you to do more with Suki, and with all the female characters, than you currently do. frankly, the most engagement I’ve seen with Suki in mainstream fandom is justifying either zukki (which again, is characterizing her in relation to male characters, one of whom she barely interacts with in canon) or one of the Suki wlw pairings. which brings me to--
“I conveniently ship this female character whose canon love interest is one of the members of my favorite non-canon ship with another female character! gay rights!” 
now, I will admit, two of my favorite atla ships are yueki and mailee, and so I totally understand being interested in these characters’ dynamics, even if, as is the case with yueki, they’ve never interacted canonically. however, it becomes a problem for me when these ships are always in the background of a zukka fic. at some point, it becomes obvious that you like this ship because it gets either Zuko or Sokka’s female love interests out of the way, not because you actually think the characters would mesh well together. It’s bad form to dislike a female character because she gets in the way of your gay ship, so instead, you find another girl to pair her off with and call it a day. to be clear, I’m not saying that everybody who ships either mailee or yueki (or tysuki or maisuki or yumai or whatever other wlw rarepair involving Zuko or Sokka’s canon love interests) is nefariously trying to sideline a female character while acting publicly as if she’s is one of their faves--far from it--but it is noteworthy to me how difficult it is to find content that centers wlw ships, while it’s incredibly easy to find content that centers zukka in which mailee and/or yueki plays a background role. 
also, notice how little traction wlw Katara ships gain in this fandom. when’s the last time you saw yuetara on your dash? there’s no reason for wlw Katara ships to gain traction in a fandom that is so focused on Zuko and Sokka getting together, bc she doesn’t present an immediate obstacle to that goal (at least, not an obstacle that can be overcome by pairing her up with a woman). if you are primarily interested in Zuko and Sokka’s relationship, and your queer readings of other female characters are motivated by a desire to get them out of the way for zukka, then Katara’s canon m/f relationship isn’t a threat to you, and thus, there’s no reason to read her as potentially queer. Or even, really, to think about her at all. 
“Katara’s here but she’s not actually going to do anything, because deep down, I’m not interested in her as a person.” 
the show has an enormous amount of textual evidence to support the claim that Sokka and Katara are integral parts of each other’s lives. so, she typically makes some kind of appearance in zukka content. sometimes, her presence in the story is as an actual character with layers and nuance, someone whom Sokka cares about and who cares about Sokka in return, but also has her own life and goals outside of her brother (or other male characters, for that matter.) sometimes, however, she’s just there because halfway through writing the author remembered that Sokka actually has a sister who’s a huge part of the show they’re writing fanfiction for, and then they proceed to show her having a meetcute with Aang or helping Sokka through an emotional problem, without expressing wants or desires outside of those characters. I’m honestly really surprised that I haven’t seen more people calling out the fact that so much of Katara’s personality in fanon revolves around her connections to men? she’s Aang’s girlfriend, she’s Sokka’s sister, she’s Zuko’s bestie. never mind that in canon she spends an enormous amount of time fighting against (anachronistic, Westernized) sexism to establish herself as a person in her own right, outside of these connections. and that in canon she has such interesting complex relationships with other female characters (e.g. Toph, Kanna, Hama, Korra if you want to write lok content) or that there are a plethora of characters with whom she could have interesting relationships with in fanon (Mai, Suki, Ty Lee, Yue, Smellerbee, and if you want to write lok content, Kya II, Lin, Asami, Senna, etc). to me, the lack of fandom material exploring Katara’s relationships with other women or with herself speak to a profound indifference to Katara as a character. I’m not saying you have to like Katara or include her in everything you write, but I am asking you to consider why you don’t find her interesting outside of her relationships with men.
“I hate Katara because she talks about her mother dying too often.” 
this is something I’ve seen addressed by people far more qualified than I to address it, but I want to mention it here in part because when I asked people which fandom tropes they wanted me to talk about, this came up often, but also because I find it really disgusting that this is a thing that needs to be addressed at all. Y’all see a little girl who watched her mother be killed by the forces of an imperialist nation and say that she talks about it too much??? That is a formational, foundational event in a child’s life. Of course she’s going to talk about it. I’ve seen people say that she doesn’t talk about it that often, or that she only talks about it to connect with other victims of fn imperialism e.g. Jet and Haru, but frankly, she could speak about it every episode for no plot-significant reason whatsoever and I would still be angry to see people say she talks about it too much. And before you even bring up the Sokka comparison, people deal with grief in different ways. Sokka  repressed a lot of his grief/channeled it into being the “man” of his village because he knew that they would come for Katara next if he gave them the opportunity. he probably would talk about his mother more if a) he didn’t feel massive guilt at not being able to remember what she looked like, and b) he was allowed to be a child processing the loss of his mother instead of having to become a tiny adult when Hakoda had to leave to help fight the fn. And this gets into an intersection with fandom racism, in that white fans (esp white American fans) are incapable of relating to the structural trauma that both Sokka and Katara experience and thus can’t see the ways in which structural trauma colors every single aspect of both of their characters, leading them to flatten nuance and to have some really bad takes. And you know what, speaking of bad fandom takes--   
“Shitting on Mai because she gets in the way of my favorite Zuko ship is actually totally okay because she’s ~abusive~” 
y’all WHAT. 
ok listen, I get not liking maiko. I didn’t like it when I first got into fandom, and later I realized that while bryke cannot write romance to save their lives, fans who like maiko sure can, so I changed my tune. but if you still don’t like it, that’s fine. no skin off my back. 
what IS skin off my back is taking instances in which Mai had justified anger toward Zuko, and turning it into “Mai abused Zuko.” do you not realize how ridiculous you sound? this is another thing where I get so angry about it that I don’t know how useful my analysis is actually going to be, but I’ll do my best. numerous people have noted how analysis of Mai and Zuko’s breakup in “The Beach” or Mai being justifiably angry with him at Boiling Rock or her asking for FUCKING FRUIT in “Nightmares and Daydreams” that says that all of these events were her trying to gain control over him is....ahhh...lacking in reading comprehension, but I’d like to go a step further and talk about why y’all are so intent on taking down a girl who doesn’t show emotion in normative ways. obviously, there’s a “Zuko can do no wrong” aspect to Mai criticism (which is super weird considering how his whole arc is about how he can do lots of wrong and he has to atone for the wrong that he’s done--but that’s a separate post.) But I also see slandering Mai for not expressing her emotions normatively and not putting up with Zuko’s shit and slandering Katara for “talking about her mother too often” as two sides of the same coin. In both cases, a female character expresses emotions that make you, the viewer, uncomfortable, and so instead of attempting to understand where those emotions may have come from and why they might be manifesting the way they are, y’all just throw the whole character away. this is another instance of people in the fandom being fundamentally disinterested in engaging with the female characters of atla in a real way, except instead of shallowly “stanning” Mai, y’all hate her. so we get to this point where female characters are flattened into one of two things: perfect queens who can do no wrong, or bitches. and that’s not who they are. that’s not who anyone is. but while we as a fandom are pretty good at understanding b1 Zuko’s actions as layered and multifaceted even though he’s essentially an asshole then, few are willing to lend the same grace to any female character, least of all Mai. 
and what’s funny is sometimes this trope will intersect with “I conveniently ship this female character whose canon love interest is one of the members of my favorite non-canon ship with another female character! gay rights!”, so you’ll have someone actively calling Mai toxic/problematic/abusive, and at the same time ship her with Ty Lee? make it make sense! but then again, maybe that’s happening because y’all are fundamentally disinterested in Ty Lee as a character too. 
“I love Ty Lee so much that I’m going to treat her like an infantilized hypersexual airhead!” 
there are so many things happening in y’alls characterization of Ty Lee that I struggled to synthesize it into one quippy section header. on one hand, you have the hypersexualization, and on the other hand, you have the infantilization, which just makes the hypersexualization that much worse. 
(of course, sexualizing or hypersexualizing ANY atla character is really not the move, considering that these are child characters in a children’s show, but then again, that’s a separate post.) 
now, I understand how, from a very, very surface reading of the text, you could come to the conclusion that Ty Lee is an uncomplicated bimbo. if you grew up on Western media the way I did, you’ll know that Ty Lee has a lot of the character traits we associate with bimbos: the form-fitting pink crop top, the general conventional attractiveness, the ditzy dialogue. but if you think about it for more than three seconds, you’ll understand that Ty Lee has spent her whole life walking a tightrope, trying to please Azula and the rest of the royal family while also staying true to herself. Ty Lee and Azula’s relationship is a really complex and interesting topic that I don’t really have time to explore at the moment given how long this post is, but I’d argue that Ty Lee’s constant, vocal  adulation is at least partially a product of learning to survive at court at an early age. Like Mai, she has been forced to regulate her emotions as a member of fn nobility, but unlike Mai, she also has six sisters who look exactly like her, so she has a motivation to be more peppy and more affectionate to stand out. 
fandom does not do the work to understand Ty Lee. as is a theme with this post, fandom is actively disinterested in investigating female characters beyond a very surface level reading of them. Thus, fandom takes Ty Lee’s surface level qualities--her love of the color pink, her revealing standard outfit, and the fact that once she found a boy attractive and also once a lot of boys found her attractive--and they stretch this into “Ty Lee is basically Karen Smith from Mean Girls.” thus, Ty Lee is painted as a bimbo, or more specifically, as not smart, uncritically adoring of Azula (did y’all forget all the non-zukka bits of Boiling Rock?), and attractive to the point of hypersexualization. I saw somebody make a post that was like “I wish mailee was more popular but I’m also glad it isn’t because otherwise people would write it as Mai having to put up with her dumb gf” and honestly I have to agree!! this is one instance in which I’m glad that fandom doesn’t discuss one of my favorite characters that often because I hate the fanon interpretation of Ty Lee, I think it’s rooted in misogyny (particularly misogyny against East Asian women, which often takes the form of fetishizing them and viewing them only through a Western white male gaze)  
(side note: here at army-of-mai-lovers, we stan bimbos. bimbos are fucking awesome. I personally don’t read Ty Lee as a bimbo, but if that’s you, that’s fucking awesome. keep doing what you’re doing, queen <3 or king or monarch, it’s 2021, anyone can be a bimbo, bitches <3)
“Toph can and will destroy everyone here with her bare hands because she’s a meathead who likes to murder people and that’s it!”  
Toph is, and always has been, one of my favorite ATLA characters. My very first fic in fandom was about her, and she appears prominently in a lot of my other work as well. One thing that I am always struck by with Toph is how big a heart she has. She’s independent, yes, snarky, yes, but she cares about people--even the family that forced her to make herself smaller because they didn’t believe that their blind daughter could be powerful and strong. Her storyline is powerful and emotionally resonant, her bending is cool precisely because it’s based in a “wait and listen” approach instead of just smashing things indiscriminately, she’s great disabled rep, and overall one of the best characters in the show. 
And in fandom, she gets flattened into “snarky murder child.” 
So where does this come from? Well, as we all know, Toph was originally conceived of as a male character, and retained a lot of androgyny (or as the kids call it, Gender) when she was rewritten as a female character. There are a lot of cultural ideas about androgynous/butch women being violent, and people in fandom seem to connect that larger cultural narrative with some of Toph’s more violent moments in the show to create the meathead murder child trope, erasing her canon emotionality, softness, heart, and femininity in the process. 
This is not to say that you shouldn’t write or characterize Toph as being violent or snarky at all ever, because yeah, Toph definitely did do Earth Rumbles a lot before joining the gaang, and yeah, Toph is definitely a sarcastic person who makes fun of her friends a lot. What I am saying is that people take these traits, sans the emotional logic, marry them to their conception of androgynous/butch women as violent/unemotional/uncaring, and thus create a caricature of Toph that is not at all up to snuff. When I see Toph as a side character in a fic (because yeah, Toph never gets to be a main character, because why would a fandom obsessed with one male character in particular ever make Toph a protagonist in her own right?) she’s making fun of people, killing people, pranking people, etc, etc. She’s never talking to people about her emotions, or palling around with her found family, or showing that she cares about her friends. Everything about her relationship with her parents, her disability, her relationship to Gender, and her love of her friends is shoved aside to focus on a version of Toph that is mean and uncaring because people have gotten it into their heads that androgynous/butch women are mean and uncaring. 
again, we see a female character who does not emote normatively or in a way that makes you, the viewer, comfortable, and so you warp her character until she’s completely unrecognizable and flat. and for what? 
Azula
no, I didn’t come up with a snappy name for this section, mainly because fanon interpretations of Azula and my own feelings toward the character are...complicated. I know there were some people who wanted me to write about Azula and the intersection of misogyny and ableism in fanon interpretations of her character, but I don’t think I can deliver on that because I personally am in a period of transition with how I see Azula. that is to say, while I still like her and believe that she can be redeemed, there is a lot of merit to disliking her. the whole point of this post is that the female characters of ATLA are complex people whom the fandom flattens into stereotypes that don’t hold up to scrutiny, or dislike for reasons that don’t make sense. Azula, however, is a different case. the rise of Azula defenders and Azula stans has led to this sentiment that Azula is a 14 y/o abuse victim who shouldn’t be held accountable for her actions. it seems to me that people are reacting to a long, horrible legacy of male ATLA fans armchair diagnosing Azula with various personality disorders (and suggesting that people with those personality disorders are inherently monstrous and unlovable which ahhhh....yikes) and then saying that those personality disorders make her unlovable, which is quite obviously bad. and hey, I get loving a character that everyone else hates and maybe getting so swept up in that love that you forget that your fave is complicated and has made some unsavory choices. it sucks that fanon takes these well-written, complex villains/antiheroes and turns them into monsters with no critical thought whatsoever. but the attitude among Azula stans that her redemption shouldn’t be hard, that her being a child excuses all of the bad things that she’s done, that she is owed redemption....all of that rubs me the wrong way. I might make another post about this in the future that discusses this in more depth, but as it stands now: while I understand that there is a legacy of misogynistic, ableist, unnuanced takes on Azula, the backlash to that does not take into account the people she hurt or the fact that in ATLA she does not make the choice to pursue redemption. and yes, Zuko had help in making that choice that Azula didn’t, and yes, Azula is a victim of abuse, but in a show about children who have gone through untold horrors and still work to better the lives of the people around them, that is not enough for me to uncritically stan her. 
Conclusion    
misogyny in this fandom runs rampant. while there are some tropes of fandom misogyny that are well-documented and have been debunked numerous times, there are other, subtler forms of misogyny that as far as I know have gone completely unchecked. 
what I find so interesting about misogyny in atla fandom is that it’s clear that it’s perpetrated by people who are aware of fandom misogyny who are actively trying not to be misogynistic. when I first joined atla fandom last summer, memes about how zukka fandom was better than every other fandom because they didn’t hate the female characters who got in the way of their gay ship were extremely prevalent, and there was this sense that *this* fandom was going to model respectful, fun, feminist online fandom. not all of the topes I’ve outlined are exclusive to or even largely utilized in zukka fandom, but a lot of them are. I’ve been in and out of fandom since I was eleven years old, and most of the fandom spaces I’ve been in have been majority-female, and all of them have been incredibly misogynistic. and I always want to know why. why, in these communities created in large part by women, in large part for women, does misogyny run wild? what I realize now is that there’s never going to be a one-size fits all answer to that question. what’s true for 1D fandom on Wattpad in 2012 is absolutely not true for atla fandom on tumblr in 2021. the answers that I’ve cobbled together for previous fandoms don’t work here. 
so, why is atla fandom like this? why did the dream of a feminist fandom almost entirely focused on the romantic relationship between two male characters fall apart? honestly, I think the notion that zukka fandom ever was this way was horrifically ignorant to begin with. from my very first moment in the fandom, I was seeing racism, widespread sexualization of minors, and yes, misogyny. these aspects of the fandom weren’t talked about as much as the crocverse or other, much more fun aspects. further, atla (specifically zukka) fandom misogyny often doesn’t look like the fandom misogyny we’ve become familiar with from like, Sherlock fandom or what have you. for the most part, people don’t actively hate Suki, they just “stan” without actually caring about her. they hate Mai because they believe in treating male victims of abuse equally. they’re not characterizing Toph poorly, they’re writing her as a “strong woman.” in short, people are misogynistic, and then invoke a shallow, incomplete interpretation of feminist theory to shield themselves from accusations of misogyny. it’s not unlike the way some people will invoke a shallow, incomplete interpretation of critical race theory to shield themselves from accusations of racism, or how they’ll talk about “freedom of speech” and “the suppression of women’s sexuality” to justify sexualizing minors. the performance of feminism and antiracism is what’s important, not the actual practice. 
if you’ve made it this far, first off, hi, thanks so much for reading, I know this was a lot. second, I would seriously encourage you to be aware of these fandom tropes and to call them out when you see them. elevate the voices of fans who do the work of bringing the female characters of atla to life. invest in the wlw ships in this fandom. drop a kudos and a comment on a rangshi fic (please, drop a kudos and a comment on a rangshi fic). read some yuetara. let’s all be honest about where we are now, and try to do better in the future. I believe in us. 
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Everybody Knows It
Pairing: Geralt x original female character, Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): sex work, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, a whole lot of smut Rating: explicit
Summary:  When Geralt visits a brothel, he brings Jaskier along to keep him out of trouble, but it ends up being far more of a prize than a punishment.
For @writinglizards​. Thank you for pushing me to finally write one of these, I’ve been wanting to for months
It's not that Jaskier's been causing more problems lately, per se, but trouble does seem to find him everywhere these days. It started with an angry husband back in Hagge (the wife he had slept with months prior, but Geralt hardly cared to listen). Then there was the innkeeper whose son Jaskier had slipped away with one night, much to his father's displeasure. Then a blacksmith, a herbalist, a ferrier. All still angry about things that took place days ago or longer. And now on top of all of that, Geralt is angry with him. Angry enough to not let him out of his sight, but also not angry enough to keep him away from the brothel, which seems odd. It's not until they arrive that Jaskier realizes he will be accompanying Geralt and he struggles to see how this is a punishment.
The worker who greets them is stunning, as beautiful as any queen or princess Jaskier has ever known with long red hair flowing down to her waist. She takes them to a room tucked away in the corner and lets them in first, slapping Geralt's ass as he passes. The two of them are very familiar and Jaskier assumes they've seen each other before. He knows it's not easy for Geralt to find a brothel that will take him so once he does find one, and a woman he likes, he must stick to that. Which also explains why he's so grouchy, because it's been months since they've been back in Vizima.
The girl - Katja - guides Jaskier back into a chair at the back of the room and he's immediately turned on by her presence. She's forceful with only the lightest touch and he would pay a hell of a lot to spend the night with her. But he sits where he's put, in perfect view of the bed. He supposes the room is set up that way on purpose, so those who only like to watch can be present without having to participate, but he doesn't know how he's going to survive.
"Are you okay being involved?" she asks and Jaskier's mouth goes dry. For a man whose words are his livelihood, he's certainly short on them today. "Geralt likes being watched and he likes being reminded of it. Sometimes I have another girl come in, but if you're okay with it...?" She lets the sentence trail off and Jaskier nods. She chuckles softly.
"Anything you're not okay with? Touching? Kissing?"
"Anything," he manages, "for Geralt, nothing's too much." She smiles peculiarly at him. It's the same kind of smile he's seen on Eskel or, slightly more irritably, on Lambert which… doesn't make sense.
"And with me?"
"Anything." Katja's smile morphs into one of amused pleasure and she tips forward, bracing herself on his thighs. Her breasts hang in front of his face and he wants to touch, wants to lean forward and kiss her soft skin, but he holds back. They're here for Geralt.
"You'll get your turn," she says sweetly, "I'm not going to leave you wanting." She dips forward, catching his lips in a firm kiss before pulling away.
Katja then turns her attention to Geralt, crossing the room to press up close, and running her hands up his chest. From where he sits, Jaskier can see the way Geralt's eyes widen a little, the way he swallows hard and drops his gaze to meet her eyes. She's only a little shorter, but the fact that she looks up to him and Geralt still submits wholly without being told is something Jaskier didn't need to know. His cock stirs in his trousers and he grips his thighs, shifting to lean back in his seat.
"It's been a while," she hums and Jaskier doesn't hear Geralt's response, but he sees the way his eyelids flutter as she runs her hand down his chest.
Without speaking, Katja turns Geralt around and guides him to the bed, pushing him back until his knees hit the frame. Jaskier watches in wonder as Geralt moves fluidly under her touch, not even a note of hesitation as she presses on his chest and he drops to sit on the edge of the bed. Up until now, Jaskier could never imagine Geralt letting anyone have that kind of power over him, but here's a sex worker from Vizima just smiling prettily at him and pushing him around like some sort of doll. And fuck if that isn't a little hot.
She spreads Geralt's knees apart, pressing down on them as she pushes between and then she's dropping to her knees, hands slipping down the backs of Geralt's calves. He's still fully dressed, but it doesn't seem to bother her any; clearly, Katja knows what she's doing. She reaches up, stroking Geralt through his trousers and even from here, Jaskier can see that he's hard, his cock pushing up obscenely against the rough material. He's always tried to avoid looking directly at Geralt's cock out of respect when they're naked around each other, but he knew he was big and now he can't keep his eyes off of him. Even Katja in her silk and lace - and very little of it - can't keep him from biting his lip at the sight of Geralt's hard prick.
"Oh," she breathers, tipping her head back to look up at Geralt, "you are happy to see me."
"Always," Geralt says and it sends a shiver up Jaskier's spine. She does know what he wants. They've done this before.
"Mm, you spoil me, Geralt." She squeezes him through his trousers and Jaskier can see the way Geralt's expression pinches up, the way his fingers curve a little tighter around the sheets.
He leans back on his hands, watching Katja work and the arousal is already clear in his face. Jaskier hadn't noticed it earlier, so either Geralt really likes her or he's been in need for a while now. The latter causes mixed feelings and Jaskier isn't sure how to deal with them, so he ignores them, pushes them aside and focuses on Katja's hand, pressing more firmly down on Geralt's cock.
She lingers there for some time, working him up to full hardness until his trousers are pulled taut around his impressive erection and Jaskier can barely breathe for the thought of seeing it naked. Then, slowly, she rises to her feet, pressing her hips back in a way that makes Jaskier's cock twitch against his thigh. she runs her hands over Geralt's thighs, right up to his ships and leans in over him.
"Better get you out of these," she says, "don't want you making too much of a mess just yet."
And fuck, the mental image that leaves. Jaskier has been more than respectful, he thinks, considering the discrepancy in times Geralt has barged in on him naked and vice versa, but he has, on occasion, imagined what Geralt would be like when he gets worked up. He puts on a strong face, but Jaskier has always imagined him more docile in bed, giving but needy and the thought of him wet and leaking is too fucking much.
Heat prickles at the back of his neck and Jaskier has to squeeze his leg again to keep from touching himself. He wants to; the thought of getting off watching Geralt fuck someone is unbelievably tempting, but he knows he shouldn't. He hasn't been invited here, he's been brought along only to keep him out of trouble. And getting his cock out when he shouldn't is usually what gets him in trouble.
But he would so happily climb up there, even just to sit behind Geralt and hold him while Katja undresses him. She's got his trousers unbuttoned now, teasing the head of Geralt's cock where it pokes between the flaps. He's still covered by his smalls and Jaskier nearly groans when he catches a glimpse of the dark spot where his cock presses out. He is wet. Fuck.
Katja leans forward, pressing her mouth to the fabric and kissing the covered head. Geralt whines under her and Jaskier can see how he holds his hips down, keeps himself from bucking up against her mouth. He can't imagine having that kind of control over a man like Geralt, and without even having to say a word, he just knows. She doesn't torment him for long, though, tugging his smalls down with his trousers and Jaskier can't focus on anything but Geralt's cock as it bounces free, bobbing between his body and the mattress.
He bites down on his bottom lip and tries to tear his gaze away, but Geralt is huge and hard and Jaskier would almost risk the consequences to cross the room and get his mouth on him right now. But Katja beats him to it. She ducks her head and Jaskier can't see past Geralt's thigh - not that the view is one to complain about - but whatever she's doing, Geralt is thoroughly enjoying.
His fingers clench in the sheets and his eyes drop shut and he's so fucking sexy it's unreal. Jaskier quickly shucks off his doublet, dropping it to the floor because it's much too hot for it now. He watches Geralt's face, watches the little shifts in his expression as Katja slips from the base up to the head, suckling just at the very tip until Geraly is moaning outright, any hesitation long forgotten. He sounds beautiful like this, so lost in pleasure already that he's either forgotten about Jaskier or just doesn't care anymore. The latter, he suspects, because Geralt is always aware of his surroundings.
Katja gets a hand around him, stroking firmly but slowly, though she refuses to take any more of him into her mouth. Initially, Jaskier thinks it's because she's unable to - and who could blame her? - but he realizes, as she teases sinking lower, that she wants Geralt to ask for it.
Something about it shoots hot and true, straight through Jaskier because Geralt doesn't ask for things for himself. He's practically incapable of it. But he moans loudly and Katja squeezes him hard and he drops his chin to his chest with a mumbled please.
"Please what?"
"Suck me," he moans, "fuck, Kat, please."
"Mm, you are hard up aren't you? You need it that badly?"
"Yes, fuck."
"How badly."
"Fuck," Geralt groans again, "so badly. 'S been too long."
"How long? When was the last time you touched yourself?"
For the briefest moment, Geralt's eyes flick over to Jaskier and Jaskier feels like he can't breathe. Not forgotten about, then.
"Couple weeks ago."
"That is a long time. Why don't you tell me about it?" Geralt groans and Katja hums in amusement. "Tell me about touching yourself and I'll let you come in my mouth."
There's a strangled moan that follows, but Jaskier is unsure if it comes from him or from Geralt. It goes unacknowledged, but Geralt shifts uncomfortably.
"We were in Cintra, visiting a friend."
"You and Jaskier?" Katja asks, turning to smile slyly at him. Geralt nods. "Go on."
"Jask was performing, I- I told him I was going to lie down. The business of cities is too much sometimes and I told him I needed to rest but-"
Jaskier holds his breath, afraid to miss a single word. He remembers this, remembers Geralt acting strangely before the banquet, but he never pressed as to what was wrong.
"But?" Katja prompts and Jaskier would die for her.
"I was so fucking horny. I'd been hard half the ride there, thinking about-'' he cuts himself off and switches tracks. "Needed to get off and I wasn't going to find anyone to fuck in Cintra, so I ha to do it myself."
"A shame, my sweet, I would have loved to ride this pretty prick for you. But, you're missing some very important details." She slips her fingers up the length of his cock, pressing the tip of one into the slit and Geralt whines. "What made you so horny that day? What were you thinking about that got you hard?"
"Fucker wouldn't stop playing," Geralt mumbles, so soft that Jaskier nearly misses it over the blood rushing in his ears. "Couldn't stop thinking about his fingers, how they'd feel on my cock or-"
"Go on."
"-inside me."
"Oh, I bet they'd feel delightful, my pet. Continue. How did it feel before you arrived? Bet you were wet, weren't you?" Geralt nods weakly.
"Godsdamn nearly come in my trousers with the saddle pressing against my prick."
"Did you like that? Like the thought of Jaskier right next to you, oblivious to how fucking hard you were because of him? I bet you did, didn't you? You wanted to come." Katja leans up close, pressing against his cock and whispering in his ear. Jaskier is too far to hear what she's saying, but Geralt whimpers at it, hips shaking with the effort to keep them still.
It doesn't matter what she says because Geralt's reaction is enough and Jaskier's already reeling from the confession. He is very good with his hands and if he'd known Geralt wanted a demonstration, he would have been more than happy to oblige. Still would be at any given time.
"Tell me the rest, tell me about getting your hands on your cock and I'll suck it."
"Couldn't wait," he mumbles, "barely got out of the main hall before pulling it out."
"Anyone could have seen you," Katja grins, "Jaskier could have seen you."
"Didn't care. Needed to come so badly."
"Did you think about him while you pleasured yourself?"
"Mm," Geralt admits and Jaskier's mind breaks a little. Geralt thought about him with his hand on his prick. "Hard not to. Could hear him from the other room."
"Oh, and I bet you liked that, didn't you? Tell me Geralt, did you get wet for him? Did you even need slick or did you just jerk off right there in the hall?" Geralt whines again, dropping his head forward and Katja nips at his jaw.
"I did. Couldn't help it."
"Mm, I bet that was a pretty sight to see. A lot of people would be delighted to find you on your knees with your cock in your hand. Bet Jaskier would be delighted to see that, hm?" she turns to him for a moment, a sly smile on her face, and then- "but a promise is a promise-" without another word, Katja drops, taking half of Geralt's cock into her mouth without hesitation.
This time, he does buck forward and Katja doesn't even try to stop him. She lets him fuck into her mouth until she's nearly taken all of him and then stops and presses his hips down. Geralt shudders and she just holds him there as she pulls back, painfully slowly even for Jaskier who is only watching.
His own cock throbs now, precome gathering at the head, but he doesn't dare touch himself. As soon as Geralt is done, he's going to find the first willing person and spend the rest of the night in bed with them. He'd prefer to find someone with a cock he can suck, but he's not picky.
He can feel the need from Geralt's story, knows what it's like to watch someone all day and not be able to touch, to want so fucking badly you can't stand it any longer. The irony that Geralt was thinking the same about him is too much because Jaskier has jerked off in bed more times than he can count, imagining sliding into Geralt's body or climbing onto him to ride that magnificent cock. He aches for it and the more he focuses on Geralt and Katja, the more desperate he becomes.
Which is ridiculous seeing as they've been here maybe twenty minutes, but Jaskier's cock throbs in his trousers and he's not sure he'll make it to the end of this without making a mess of himself. But Katja is so controlled, so assured in all her movements and Geralt already looks like he's about to split apart at the seams, how is he supposed to cope with that? When he watches her sinking further onto Geralt's cock and he's not sure which one of them he wants to switch places with.
Because he'd give anything for the chance to suck Geralt's cock, but the way Katja moves, the way she glances repeatedly up at Geralt with just the tip of his cock between her lips, Jaskier knows he'd be fucking ruined by her. She presses further between Geralt's legs, resting her arms on the bed on either side of him and she presses his fingers into his ass, pulling him forward.
Geralt shudders and Jaskier can see the way his hips twitch before he lets out a stuttered, breathy moan. He stills abruptly, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he rolls his head back. Jaskier realizes abruptly, that he's coming and that's- fuck, that's hot. Jaskier squeezes his thighs together, shifting for any sort of friction on his cock. He whimpers and leans back in his chair, forcing his legs apart and balling his hands into fists.
He wants so badly to touch, even just the faintest press against his cock would be incredible right now. But that's not what he's here for. Across the room, Katja is pulling off Geralt's cock and climbing up into his lap. She hovers just above him, the silk of her panties just a fraction of an inch from Geralt's still-hard cock. And Jaskier doesn't know how he can withstand the temptation because he can barely stand it, just watching.
She rocks her hips as she presses Geralt down against the bed, and Jaskier can no longer see Geralt's face but he can't imagine the frustration. Or maybe it's only because he wants to come to fucking badly. Katja unbuttons his shirt slowly, dragging her fingertips along Geralt's skin as she pushes the shirt up over his head. And when Geralt's fully naked, she drags her fingers down his cheek and Geralt cranes his head up, wrapping his lips around the finger that catches on his mouth.
Katja pulls her finger out, running it along his bottom lip and Jaskier watches, enthralled.
"You want something to do with your mouth?" she asks and Jaskier isn't sure whether it's himself or Geralt that moans in response.
Katja doesn't wait for a more coherent answer before climbing up so she's straddling Geralt's face. She turns, pulling her panties to the side, and lowers herself onto Geralt's mouth. Instantly, his hands come up, gipping around her thighs as she rocks forward with a soft sigh. While Geralt is occupied, she turns her attention back to Jaskier.
"You like watching?" she asks and Jaskier nods. "Good. He likes it, too." She turns her attention from him and slides a hand down Geralt's stomach, teasing the head of his cock with her fingertips. "We have a captive audience, my pet, why don't you show him how good you can be?"
She presses her palm to the underside of Geralt's cock, running it firmly down the length of him until her fingertips press into his sac. Geralt gives a little gasp and she presses harder, moving further to cup his balls. She gives a firm squeeze that has Jaskier pressing his legs together, but Geralt's groan of pleasure is loud enough that Jaskier hears it across the room, muffled as it is, and sees the effects of it on Katja's face. Her soft little moans send a shiver down Jaskier's spine and he can't help but think about what Geralt is doing to elicit those sounds.
Realistically, he knows Geralt has to be good in bed; he doesn't get a lot of sex outside of what he pays for, but the brothels who take him are welcoming and the girls are always delighted to see him again. It's not something he's thought much about before, but now every meeting with a sex worker has been very good and very enthusiastic. Fuck, Geralt must be incredible if sex workers are all but throwing themselves at him.
Jaskier's cock twitches in his trousers and he instinctively presses his palm against it, relieving the ache a little, but increasing his want tenfold. Fuck, if he could just get a little closer he could see, but Katja put him here and he's staying put unless told otherwise.
Geralt's legs spread wider, catching his attention again and Jaskier looks over to find Katja with his balls in her hand, squeezing and rolling them between his fingers. Groans and shifts and his cock jerks where it lies neglected against his stomach. Jaskier wants to touch him, to suck him off while Katja plays with him and he groans softly, squeezing his knees to keep control.
"You like his cock?" Katja asks and Jaskier meets her eyes but can't make his voice work. She dips down, flicking her tongue at the head of Geralt's cock and Jaskier whimpers. She drags her tongue along his skin, slipping under the foreskin and pulling at it gently with her teeth. Geralt's hips jump into the touch and Jaskier is fascinated and overwhelmed by the things he's learning about Geralt tonight.
"You wanna suck it, don't you?" Jaskier whines again and Katja smiles sweetly at him. "Maybe later, darling." She winks at him as she wraps her mouth around Geralt's cockhead and sinks down in one swift motion and it's a miracle that Jaskier doesn't come in his trousers right there and then.
Geralt's reaction is strong. He holds Katja's thighs so tightly Jaskier can see where the skin pales at the pressure and she moans around him, somehow remarkably steady despite her desperate moans still muffled by Geralt's cock in her mouth. Jaskier slumps in his seat, legs spreading wide and he rocks his hips against the fabric of his trousers, desperate for any touch. It's not enough, not that he actually wants to get off like this; he wants to come so fucking badly, but he wants a hand around his prick at least when he does.
But gods if it isn't tempting to just watch them, to jerk off looking at them. They're both so fucking gorgeous Jaskier doesn't know what to do with himself and he might actually die if he wound up between the two of them. But fuck, the thought of Geralt's hands on him, tangled in his hair while Jaskier sucks him off- he whines and digs his fingers into the silk of his trousers, forcing his head back to look at the ceiling. He shuts his eyes, focuses his breathing and then-
There's a loud groan and a harsh oh fuck, and Jaskier's eyes snap back to them to find Geralt shaking through a second orgasm. He shakes and shudders, but he doesn't let up where he's still buried in Katja's cunt. Even after she pulls off of his cock, Geralt's still moaning into her, pulling her hips down against him. And it's clear on her face when she looks up at Jaskier, the pure bliss of it, and then just as Jaskier thinks she's about to come, she climbs off of him.
Jaskier is relieved when she slips off the bed, but she pushes Geralt's knees together and when she leans over him, Jaskier can see the slick running down her thighs. He wants to crawl over and lick it up or finish the job Geralt started and make her come on his tongue.
She says something to Geralt that Jaskier doesn't catch, but then Geralt's shifting up the bed and Katja picks up his clothes and drapes them over the headboard. Geralt lies with his head on the pillow and his hands wrapped around each post of the headboard. It's not until Katja produces a length of rope that Jaskier realizes what she's doing and he groans at the implications.
Katja climbs up over Geralt, straddling his face and hovering just above his mouth. Geralt squirms and bites his lip, eyes focused on her cunt, but he doesn't move, doesn't make an attempt to lick or touch because he hasn't been told to. And that's so fucking sexy Jaskier can barely handle it. She gets his wrists tied and slides down his body in much the same way, touching him as little as possible until they settle between his knees, pushing his legs apart.
She squeezes his thighs, rubbing right up to the join of his hips and then pulls one hand away, trailing down below his balls and Jaskier doesn't need to see it to know what she's doing. Geralt whimpers and gasps and for a moment he's tense before settling against the mattress again with a soft sigh. She works into him quickly and Geralt moans and jerks, fingers clenched tightly around the headboard.
"You like that, don't you Geralt? Like having something inside you?"
"Yes," Geralt groans.
"Tell me, Geralt, do you want my cock?"
"Please. I want it- want you to fuck me-"
"Oh, I will, handsome. I'll fuck you so good they'll hear you down the road." Katja leans down, kissing Geralt's cock. He's hard again, dribbling constantly against his hip and Jaskier can practically taste the saltiness of it against his tongue.
But Katja slows down, pressing another finger into him and thrusting slower now. Jaskier watches and whimpers and his cock throbs with need. If Geralt likes having something in his ass so much, Jaskier would be more than happy to assist.
Katja is thorough and Geralt is nearly whimpering before she even acknowledges his cock. She dips down, licking a stripe up the full length of it before ramming into him hard and straightening up again.
"You want to get fucked properly, don't you?" Geralt whimpers but doesn't respond. "Want a nice thick cock up your ass, fucking you hard? How about your friend, hm? You want Jaskier to fuck you? He's got a nice prick, I'd bet." She spares a glance in Jaskier's direction before leaning up over Geralt, fingers still working into him.
"Nice and thick," she hums, nosing under Geralt's jaw. She leans on her elbow, turning his head toward Jaskier. "Can almost see it through his trousers, he's so fucking hard. Look at him, Geralt, don't you want his cock?"
"Yes," Geralt whimpers and Jaskier's head spins. He'd give it to him in an instant, though right now he wouldn't last long enough to fuck him properly.
"I bet, my darling," she leans in, whispering something in Geralt's ear and when she pulls back she's grinning widely. "In the meantime," she continues, "I have an idea."
She slips from the bed, swaying her hips as she crosses the room and Jaskier knows it has to be intentional, no one looks that enticing accidentally. She bends low, showing off her ass and thighs as she digs through a drawer in the dresser and Jaskier bites the inside of his lip to keep from thinking about what he'd like to do to her. How good her thick thighs would feel around his cock, or how her skin would feel under his hands. His cock jerks again and he groans out loud, he's never going to survive this. He tips his head back, staring at the ceiling to gain back a little control over his body. Already, he feels like he's one wrong move away from coming in his trousers and no one has touched him.
But Katja is stunning and Geralt is, well, Geralt and watching him bend to her, soft and docile is something Jaskier had only imagined in his wildest fantasies before. Being able to see him like this for himself is… overwhelming. If he thinks about it too much, it feels like crossing some sort of invisible boundary, like this is pushing them one step closer to something. But thinking about it makes Jaskier hopeful and he knows where he stands with Geralt, even if some of the things he's admitted to tonight came as a surprise.
When he's calm enough to watch again, Katja is sitting between Geralt's thighs again, slicking her hands and stroking him slowly. Geralt is nearly silent, his mouth open in a silent gasp and fingers clenched tightly around the bedpost. He's fucking incredible and Jaskier wants so badly to climb up onto that bed with them and touch him everywhere.
"Ready?" Katja asks and Geralt lets out a needy sound that only vaguely resembles a yes. Katja laughs softly and leans down to hiss his stomach and when she does, Jaskier realizes oil wasn't the only thing she was retrieving from the drawer. She's got a dildo in her hand, thick and long and delicately carved. He groans at the realization that she's going to fuck Geralt with it and his hands tighten where they're still clenched in his trouser legs.
"Shh," she whispers, and Jaskier's eyes snap up to where she's got the toy pressed up against Geralt's ass.
He can't see everything, but he can tell when she breaches him because Geralt's legs spread wider and he rolls his head back against the pillow. Gods, who knew he was so enthusiastic about taking a dick? If Jaskier had known he'd have made his offers more serious. Not that he suspects Geralt would have been amenable. Now though, he's not so sure.
Because Katja pushes into him and Geralt moans so sweetly, unabashedly rocking his hips to get the toy deeper, and Katja just lets him. She makes no attempt to stop him, pushing steadily as Geralt does all the work for her. And Jaskier can't keep his eyes off of them. He's so fucking turned on he can hardly stand it and here's Geralt with a fake dick up his ass after specifically stating he wanted his. And Jaskier is more than willing to give it to him.
His cock jumps as Geralt shudders and Jaskier realizes with a start that he's been staring and now Geralt is staring back at him. A wave of heat rolls up his back and his cock throbs, but he doesn't dare touch himself because he knows with Geralt looking at him like that, any touch is going to set him off. And, in theory, he has a reputation to uphold.
But the thought of jerking off while Geralt watches him is… enticing and he thinks about it far too much. Geralt's eyes pinch shut and he lets out a low whine and Jaskier's eyes slip down his body to where Katja is fucking him in earnest now. She's bent over him, nipping at his stomach and she thrust the toy into him and Jaskier lets out a breathy fuck as Geralt arches right off the bed. She glances over at him and Jaskier just chews his lip when she grins.
"Tell him how it feels, Geralt."
"'S good," he mumbles, "feels so fucking good." Geralt's eyes meet his again and Jaskier can feel the desperation in his stare, can see it in the flutter of his lashes.
"Come like this and I'll fuck you properly," she promises, flicking her tongue at the head of his cock. Geralt groans and rolls his head back again. "Do you want me to?"
"Yes."
"How badly do you want it?"
"Fuck," Geralt mumbles, "so bad, please- I wanna come on your cock."
Jaskier pitches forward in his seat, pressing the heel of his hand into his crotch. He can't take much more of this. Evidently, Katja notices.
"How are we doing, bard? Do you like watching him?"
"Yes," Jaskier rasps, "and you."
"Mm, I bet you do. How close are you?"
"Very," he mumbles, avoiding Geralt's eyes. "I can't-"
"I know. I can see you squirming over there. You can hold on a little longer, I think."
"Please-" Jaskier whines, but Katja just gives him a look.
"If you come before Geralt, I'll make you sit in the hall so everyone can see just how much you like to watch." It's supposed to be a threat, but Jaskier's prick jerks at the thought of being left outside so everyone can see him like this. The primary flaw in letting this happen, of course, is that he'd no longer be able to watch and that would be truly cruel.
He mumbles an agreement and shoves his hands under his thighs. It doesn't help the near-constant throb of need, but it stops his hands from moving without his permission. He doesn't have long to wait though because he's barely sat himself down again when Katja's thrusting into Geralt again, keeping her pace quick and hard.
Geralt writhes in the sheets, pleading with her to let him come and then, abruptly, she reaches up, wrapping a hand around his cock, and Geralt comes before she can even reach the tip. He bucks hard into her hand, lifting right off the bed and splattering himself with come. Jaskier is so enthralled, so caught up in the moment that he almost forgets his deal and has to sit back on his hands before he can touch himself.
She gives him a look and evidently the pained look of need on his face is enough to assure her he hasn't come yet and he shifts back leaning on her hands. Geralt, on the other hand, slumps against the bed, eyes shut and chest heaving. He's so beautiful like this that it feels almost wrong to be so turned on by him, but Jaskier has never been good at feeling the right things when it comes to Geralt.
But it doesn't last long and when Geralt's eyes open again, they go wide as he looks down between his legs. Jaskier follows his gaze as he stares down between his legs. Katja's got the toy in a harness now, strapped around her hips and she's pressing forward into him. She looks over at Jaskier as she sinks fully into him and Jask forgets to breathe for a moment.
She's stunning, so fucking sexy wrapped up in satin and lace, but Jaskier wants that to be him. He wants to be the one pushing his cock into Geralt, the one whose body Geralt's legs wrap around. Fuck, he's been able to deal with the longing and the ache in his chest when Geralt slips off to visit the brothel or before, when he used to visit Yen, but this is so much more than that. So overwhelming he doesn't know how he can stand it, just watching Geralt and not being able to touch him.
He wants to bury himself in him and stay there forever. He wants to make Geralt come again and again and he wants to be the one with him after, to wipe away the sweat and come and pull him into his arms and fuck, he should not be getting this emotional watching Geralt get fucked, but the only other option is to give in to his arousal and he can't do that yet.
But he'd be so good for him, give him everything he wants. He clenches his eyes shut and when he looks back, Geralt's watching him again, fingers flexing around the bed frame, and Jaskier very nearly goes over there.
"You want to touch don't you?" Katja hums.
"Yes."
"Who?"
"Both of you," Geralt whines, "please."
"You can touch me soon enough, pet. You'll have to ask Jaskier later."
Geralt groans loudly, a wild, petulant sound, and Jaskier is hit with the realization that Geralt really wants to touch him, and he can't help but wonder if he's been holding back, too.
"You can," Jaskier whispers, casting a glance at Katja before continuing. She gives a smug little smile and thrusts deep, forcing another groan from Geralt's lips. "Any time you want. Any way you want. You can touch me." His voice is rough and breathy and Geralt just looks at him pleadingly.
"Not yet," Katja says, "you set the rules, pet."
Another petulant groan and Jaskier wants so badly to know about the rules that Geralt made that he can't contain himself. In his defense, all of his self-restraint is being otherwise used.
"What are the rules?"
"He's not allowed to touch unless I tell him he can. And as long as you're amenable."
"Oh." Jaskier's cock jerks hard and he knows he won't be able to control himself much longer. He's so fucking close to coming he has to stop himself from thinking about it in case he slips over the edge.
"Mm, indeed."
Geralt squirms under her, twisting in his bonds and arching up off the bed. He mumbles quiet words that Jaskier can't catch, but judging by Katja's responses, he's asking to come. Jaskier's blood rushes at the absolute obedience and can't keep it together. He's slipping, his cock jerking hard against his thigh, but he's so caught up in Geralt's expression and the way his fingers twist and clench that he's barely aware of his own body.
"Fuck," he whispers, "you look so good like this, wish I could-"
"Jask-" Geralt gasps, low and broken.
The sound sends a jolt through him and Jaskier's cock pulses against his thigh and he's coming, hot and sticky, in his trousers. Wave after wave crashes over him and he can't even think, he just watches as Geralt writhes and jerks and comes all over himself. Jaskier keeps his eyes on him, even as his own orgasm lingers, and Geralt blinks softly at him before shutting his eyes and rolling his head back.
When he finally comes down, Jaskier slumps against his chair. His trousers are uncomfortably wet, but he feels amazing, stuck somewhere between amazement and disbelief. He doesn't even remember the agreement with Katja until she hums at him.
Jaskier reluctantly turns to look at her and she's still rocking forward lightly, one hand in the join of Geralt's hip, curled around the base of his cock. She's stroking slowly and she looks over at Jaskier, shaking her head.
"You're lucky bard, that was almost you out of the room." He gives her a weak, hopeful smile and she laughs. "You're fine, Jaskier, but it was close." She flashes a smug smile and returns her attention to Geralt, smoothing both hands up his stomach and chest.
Jaskier watches, transfixed, as Geralt's cock swells under the touch. He's come for times already, but when Katja plays with his nipples, he squirms and rocks back against her.
"Uh uh," she says, "if you want to come again, you're going to have to work for it, my dear." Geralt groans but Katja just chuckles softly at him, leaning down to press her lips to the underside of his cock. "I can only keep up with you for so long, honey, and look at you-" she runs a hand under his cock, lifting it and wrapping her fingers around him, "-you're already getting hard again."
She drops his cock and thrusts a little harder, jolting Geralt as the toy sinks into him. Jaskier is fascinated. He knows about Geralt's enhancements and he knows the potions can make him go for hours without rest of any sort, but he didn't realize that translated to sex as well. He can't help but wonder how long Geralt could go on for with a partner who could keep up and Katja is doing an excellent job at it, not faltering in the slightest, but Geralt is so ready to just keep going and Jaskier would give anything to be the one to test it.
His own cock is soft now, but when Katja pulls out and crawls up over Geralt again, it gives a twitch of interest. She unwinds the rope from Geralt's wrists and the bedposts, running her hand down his arms and further down his sides to settle on his hips. As Geralt shifts, she settles in his place, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.
"Come on up here, big boy," she grins at him and Geralt rises up on his knees, shifting up to straddle her hips. "Mmm, no darling, don't you think Jaskier deserves a show? Turn around, Geralt, let's let him watch."
Geralt is remarkably enthusiastic about it, quickly adjusting himself so he's facing Jaskier where he's still slumped in his seat. Jaskier keeps his eyes on him as Geralt settles and then sits back on the toy. He takes it easily, settling quickly and shifting impatiently as Katja gets her hands on his hips, holding him steady. She waits for a minute, then slides her hands down his thighs and to the bed.
"Fuck me, darling, show Jaskier how badly you want him." Geralt groans and Katja slips her hands up his back. "You do want him, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Show him."
Geralt rises up a little, letting the cock nearly slip out of him before dropping back on it again. Katja encourages him and Jaskier keeps his eyes on him, wondering if this is how enthusiastic Geralt is any time he rides a dick. He rocks his hips and moans loudly, his inhibitions long forgotten as his cock bobs between his legs. He leans back, resting on his hands, and Katja gets her hands on his chest, slipping up to play with his nipples and Geralt pushes into the touch as he grinds back hard on the dildo.
"Mmm, you like that don't you, darling? Like being in control of that cock inside you?" Geralt whimpers and Katja pinches a nipple. "Tell me, Geralt."
"Yeah," he breathes, "feels good, nice and thick." Jaskier nearly chokes and his cock gives another twitch.
"Mm and you love it, don't you? Love that thick cock filling you up. Tell us, Geralt, whose cock are you riding?"
"Jaskier's," he gasps and there isn't a note of hesitation. Jaskier just stares for a moment before he remembers how to breathe again. Katja eyes him conspiratorially and slips her hands to Geralt's hips, squeezing gently.
"And why Jaskier?"
"Need it," Geralt huffs, gasping for breath as his hips rock a little quicker. "'S all I can think about." It's obvious that Geralt gets off on this, on talking about what he's doing.
"Yeah? And why's that?"
"Want him. Want him to touch me." His eyes flash open and he turns back, still rocking himself back onto the dildo as he looks pleadingly at Katja. "Can he?" he asks, "please let him touch me, he's right there, he's so close."
"Oh my pet, he is so very close, isn't he? And you already made him come tonight, but I think you can hold on a little longer."
"Don't want to- want him, Kat please."
"Shh, darling. You'll just have to be patient. Tell me what you want from him."
"Want him to fuck me."
"Yes, we know that."
"Want his cock, want to feel it, wanna taste it." Jaskier groans out loud and Geralt's eyes snap back to him as though he'd forgotten he was there. And Jaskier's skin burns hot under his gaze.
"Tell me?" he whispers, "whatever it is, you can have it, love-"
"After," Katja reminds him and Jaskier is quick to amend.
"After."
"Wanna come," Geralt whimpers, "Kat, 'm close-"
"Don't tell me," she whispers, "tell Jaskier."
"Can I?" he asks, directing his attention to him and Jaskier nearly chokes.
"A little longer, love. Show me how much you like my cock."
Geralt groans but rocks his hips hard, slamming himself down on the dildo and clenching his fingers in the sheets. Sweat rolls down his chest and Jaskier wants to climb up onto the bed and lick it away. He wants to climb up into Geralt's lap and jerk him off, make him come hard with that cock up his ass. He groans and presses a hand to his crotch where his cock is slowly filling again.
"Jask," Geralt rasps, "I dunno if I can hold on. Please, wanna come, please-"
"Yeah, fuck Geralt okay. Come for me, love, let me see you."
Geralt gives another couple of thrusts, hips jerking forward into nothingness as he spills over his hip. There's not much come this time, but he continues to twitch as he drops back against Katja's chest. She rocks up into him, fingers trailing along his skin as she hums against his ear.
"You wanna go again?" Geralt pulls off the toy and flops onto his side, smiling softly, almost sheepishly, at her. "I know you do, pet, come here."
She wraps her arms around him, drawing him in and kissing him softly. Jaskier fights back a surge of jealousy and Geralt turns back to look at him for a moment before Katja guides him back to her.
"Touch me," she breathes, leaning in to kiss him. "I wanna ride you next but you gotta work for it."
She gets her arms around his waist, rolling onto her back and pulling Geralt halfway on top of her. He gets a leg between her thighs and when he shifts, Jaskier imagines him rubbing against her thigh. He ducks his head, kissing her shoulder and moving down to her breasts, nipping and sucking at the flesh until he finally gets his mouth around her nipple. A loud moan breaks the stillness and Jaskier realizes with a start that it's Katja moaning and she lifts her leg, pressing against Geralt's cock.
He touches her so softly that Jaskier aches and for the first time he feels like he's interrupting something, that he shouldn't be witness to this. Because Geralt is so soft and he wants that softness for himself. He watches Geralt's hands brush along her skin, how confident he is given the opportunity, and fuck that tugs at something in him that he's been forcibly ignoring for too long, now.
Katja moans again and Jaskier watches the way she moves under him, clearly enjoying the way Geralt touches her. He wants to know that pleasure, to have Geralt's hands on him, his mouth on him and he whines softly as his cock twitches. He's overwhelmed by it, desperate for any little touch, even brief, but Katja moves again, pressing Geralt onto his back, and it distracts him momentarily, from the burning need in his chest.
She wastes no time climbing up onto him and the moment of distraction stretches as she turns away from him, stroking his cock with both hands before shifting to push it inside of her. She gasps and Geralt groans, hands coming up to her hips, and Jaskier is so preoccupied with the sight of his cock slipping in and out of her to think of anything else. She keeps her legs spread wide, clearly inviting him to watch and he couldn't look away if he tried.
Apart from being gorgeous, Katja has more control over Geralt's cock than most men he's been with and she's stunning to watch, especially when Geralt is already mumbling weakly beneath her. He holds his hips still, but Jaskier catches the twitch of them out of the corner of his eyes and Geralt's fingers speak of his desperation, clinging to her hips and thighs or the blankets beneath them.
Jaskier whimpers to watch them. He's held out for so fucking long, he doesn't even know how to cope any longer. He wants to come again, his prick swollen and twitching in his already ruined trousers. He barely resists touching himself, but then Katja looks over at him with a wide smile.
"How are you holding up?"
Jaskier just whines because he doesn't trust his voice right now, doesn't trust himself not to say how badly he wants to fuck Geralt, or worse, how he feels about him.
"What do you want, pet? Tell me."
"Wanna lick you." It's not a lie, he does, but he also wants to fuck, to be fucked, to touch.
"Mm, come up here then, let's see what that famous tongue can do."
He's hesitant, but he doesn't show it, rising up from his seat and striding across the room. He climbs up onto the bed and leans down, flicking his eyes up to confirm he's allowed. Katja presses a hand to his head and leans back.
Fuck, she smells incredible, and with every shift, Jaskier catches sight of Geralt's cock fucking into her. He does his best to ignore it, focusing on Katja instead.
He starts small, kissing the space between her thighs and her cunt and she laughs softly when she realizes what he's doing, but she doesn't stop him. He moves around, kissing everywhere he can reach before finally pressing a soft kiss to her cunt. He flicks his tongue out, slipping between her folds and his cock throbs beneath him, brutally reminded of how hard he already is again, how badly he'd like to sit up and press into her.
And fuck, if that isn't a thought. Geralt's cock slipping against his own as they work to bring her off together. He wants that. Fuck, he wants it so fucking badly, but instead, he puts all of his want and desire into eating her out. And the reaction is worth it, the way her fingers clench in his hair and the way she moans above him, telling him to keep on with it.
"Mm, right there," she breathes and Jaskier curls his tongue around her clit, sucking hard and delighting in the sounds that spill from her lips. "Fuck, Jaskier they weren't kidding when they said you had a talented tongue." He flicks his eyes up to look at her and she hauls him up into a rough kiss, before pushing him back down again and Jaskier is more than happy to prove himself.
"Fuck," she breathes, "that's it, darling. Gods, Geralt your boy really has a fucking mouth on him." Geralt huffs a laugh and his fingertips brush against Jaskier's. "Bet you'd love to get that mouth on your cock, hm? And you," she adds, slipping her fingers through Jaskier's hair, "ah- you too, I bet." Jaskier just moans against her, sucking at the folds of skin and flicking her clit with his tongue.
"Make me come and you can suck him off, Jaskier."
He can barely think beyond the thought of Geralt's cock in his mouth and when Katja moves abruptly, he can feel Geralt's cock slide against his tongue and it's already overwhelming. He wants to taste him so badly he aches and he doubles down in his efforts, sliding a hand up her thigh and, when she doesn't protest or push him away, travelling further up her chest.
He plays with her nipples and eats her out and before long she's jerking hard against him, pressing down on Geralt's cock and grinding between the two of them. Until now, she's been cool and collected, as though entirely unaffected by anything happening around her, but she squirms now and Jaskier can't keep his eyes off her.
Jaskier can feel when she gets close, the way she shifts and the way Geralt groans as she clenches around him. And then, abruptly, she's coming, tugging Jaskier's hair and pulling his head in close to rock against him. Around him, Geralt pulls his knees up, bracing himself as he rolls his hips and Jaskier realizes belatedly that Geralt's coming too.
Katja shudders and leans back against Geralt's chest, tilting to kiss his cheek.
"You've been so good tonight, Geralt, I think you deserve a little treat." He mumbles something, but Jaskier is only half-aware of what it is and then Katja laughs softly. She pushes herself up and climbs off of Geralt, sliding off the edge of the bed.
"Come here," he says, gesturing for Jaskier to come closer. He shifts up onto the bed and she moves to the side, giving him space to settle between Geralt's legs. "I'm gonna go have a nap now," she grins, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his mouth, "take care of him for me?"
Jaskier's breath catches and his heart beats too quickly in his chest, almost painfully. But Katja is already leaning down to kiss Geralt again, climbing over him and slipping off the bed.
"Have fun boys," she hums and then she's gone, shutting the door behind her and Jaskier is left feeling remarkably out of his depth.
He bites his lips and looks down at Geralt, laid out for him and still breathing heavily. His eyes are dark and lidded and he looks so damn beautiful Jaskier can barely breathe.
"Do you want-?" is as far as he gets before Geralt is sitting up and reaching out to him.
"Yes," he says quickly. One hand cups Jaskier's jaw as the other arm slips around the back of his neck and then he's being pulled down and kissed hard despite Geralt's stiff and sluggish movements.
He can barely think but to kiss him, pressing against his chest and humming into his mouth. He's thought about this so many times and yet in all the years he's considered it, he barely thought it would ever happen, much less that Geralt would be the one to initiate it. But he holds him closer, keeping Jaskier against his chest as he presses against him, arching off the bed just to get closer.
Jaskier quickly unbuttons his shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it aside as Geralt's little movements get stronger, his hips a little more demanding where they press against his own. And Jaskier could cry for the pleasure of it all. He's been hard for so long, not even touching himself, and now Geralt's rutting against him, fully hard and clearly wanting and Jaskier doesn't know what to do with himself. But as Geralt deepens the kiss again, he realizes it doesn't matter.
This is Geralt and he and Geralt always find a way to make things work.
So he grinds down a little more firmly with the next roll and Geralt moans into his mouth, a slight whine to his voice. His trousers must be rough against his bare prick after coming so many times already, but Geralt makes no attempt to let him go, apparently happy enough to just kiss him. And Jaskier could live the rest of his life in this bed wrapped around Geralt.
Geralt makes a soft little sound, blinking softly at him and Jaskier pulls away, just a little.
"Tired, love?"
"I want you." Jaskier's heart clenches and all the poems and songs in the world don't have the words to tell Geralt how much he adores him right now.
"I know, darling, but let me alright? You've already done so well tonight, my love, let me take over." Jaskier shuffles up close, fitting himself between Geralt's thighs and sliding his hands up his sides.
He bends to kiss him, dragging his lips against Geralt's skin and savouring the saltiness of it on his tongue. His own desire becomes secondary to Geralt's, to exploring his body and discovering the most sensitive parts of him. And Geralt is happy to be explored, humming and sighing and moaning softly under God's hands and mouth.
He's beautiful like this, so soft and docile, but Jaskier's cock bumps against Geralt's every time he leans forward and soon the fiction is too much to ignore. He rocks forward, hands planted on either side of Geralt's chest as he grinds against him, panting and moaning against Geralt's skin.
Then there are hands on his hips and sliding along his waistband to the front. Geralt gets him out of his trousers with little effort and shoves them down and out of the way so he can get a hand around him. He strokes them together and Jaskier rocks into the touch with a moan, leaning up to meet Geralt in a kiss.
Geralt's hands are calloused but Gentle and Jaskier delights in the roughness around his cock, even as sensitive as he is. His hips jump with it, but Geralt keeps a hand on his back, soothing and settling. Even so, Jaskier isn't going to last long, so when he breaks the kiss, he moves down to nip at Geralt's jaw and kiss his way down his neck and chest.
He pauses briefly in his travels to nose at Geralt's nipples and the sound he gets in response is so desperate and needy Jaskier barely keeps himself from reaching down and jerking him off right like that. But he still wants to get his mouth on him and he knows he can make Geralt come like that, so he pulls off his nipple, ignoring Geralt's protests and shuffles down the bed so he's hovering above his cock.
Jaskier has no idea how he can still be so hard after coming so many times, but he'd put coin on the trials having something to do with it - enhanced stamina and all that. He noses up the length of Geralrt's cock, breathing in the scent of him and desperately hopes that he'll get the chance to find out the full extent of that stamina.
Beneath him, Geralt is as impatient as if he hasn't come once, writhing and moaning and softly pleading with him and Jaskier can hardly stand it. He slides one hand up Geralt's chest, reaching up to brush against his lips and when Geralt sucks his fingers into his mouth, Jaskier shudders and groans.
"Fuck," he whispers, "you like that, love?"
He doesn't wait for a response before mouthing at the underside of his cock and sliding up and wrapping his lips around the head. Geralt whimpers and he can feel it around his fingers and it's so much that Jaskier will be lucky if he doesn't come untouched again just listening to the sounds Geralt makes with a mouth around his cock.
He takes him down, prepared to use all his best techniques to impress Geralt and get him off quickly, but he barely sinks down halfway, tongue pressed against the underside of his cock before Geralt is coming, jerking hard and whining around Jaskier's fingers. Jaskier sinks down fully, holding Geralt's cock against the back of his throat while he shakes and shudders through it.
His own cock throbs and he can't help but shove a hand down under him, jerking himself hard and fast as Geralt shudders through an orgasm. He comes too quickly, overwhelmed by Geralt under him. He presses his head into Geralt's stomach, panting and whining against him and Geralt gets an arm around his shoulders, his free hand coming up to stroke his cheek.
Jaskier is still working through the rush when Geralt pulls him off his cock and tugs him up on top of him again. He still has so much strength even after exhausting himself and Jaskier's cock gives a pathetic twitch of interest. Geralt gets him out of his trousers and Jaskier shifts to get comfortable, slipping to lie next to him.
"You're amazing," Jaskier mumbles, eyes only half-open.
It takes a couple of minutes to adjust to the sensitivity, but he swells under Geralt's touch, moaning softly against his lips as he kisses him again. Dream or not, he'll be running off this high for a long time. Geralt's hips stutter against him and Jaskier wraps a hand around his cock, slowly stroking from the tip right down to the base and Geralt breathes heavily against his lips.
"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods slowly.
"'S good. Jask-"
"Shh, darling, I've got you." He kisses Geralt's jaw, brushing his lips against his mouth. "Geralt," he breathes, "do you want to come again? Can I fuck you?"
"Yeah," Geralt gasps, "yes. Please." He pushes forward into Jaskier's hand and Jaskier squeezes a little tighter around him before pulling off.
Geralt releases him, too and Jaskier readjusts to fit better against him without their arms in the way. He leans up to kiss him, sliding one hand up the side of Geralt's face and into his hair. A wave of anxiety washes over him, mingling with the anticipation and lust already roiling through him. What if he's not good enough? What if he can't get him off again? Geralt has already come six times and Katja was very good at getting him there. He's not sure he'll be enough.
But Geralt moans against his mouth, and reaches down, wrapping his fingers around Jaskier's cock and pressing it against his hole. There's a little gasp from both of them as he pushes forward, just slightly, but then Geralt's groaning, throwing his head back and pressing his hips down.
Jaskier holds his breath as he pushes forward, nipping at Geralt's throat and kissing over the little red marks as they fade. He pushes his hips forward just barely breaching him and Geralt tenses under him but he doesn't let up, so Jaskier pushes a little further, sinking into him. He doesn't so much as move before Geralt's twitching under him, letting out a desperate moan and coming hard.
He groans and shoves himself onto Jaskier's cock, rocking onto him and fisting a hand in his hair. He shakes and shudders and Jaskier can't focus on anything but the tight heat around his cock.
"Fuck," Geralt mumbles, "fuck Jask, yes. 'S good, 's good please-"
Without hesitation, Jaskier rolls his hips forward, and his thighs shake with the effort it takes not to just slam into him and chase his own orgasm. He props himself up on his elbows, looking down at Geralt as he fucks into him, at the pleasure on his face and the exhaustion that sets in. He dips down to kiss him and moves to pull away, but Geralt stops him, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him close.
"Want you," he mumbles, "Jask please."
"You've got me."
He gives another couple of thrusts and he's already so fucking close when Geralt squeezes around him and he comes hard, shaking as he continues rocking into him. He drops his head to Geralt's shoulders, pressing sloppy kisses into his skin, but as the rush passes, he collapses against him. He barely pulls out before Geralt's arms are around him, holding him against his chest as he nuzzles against his neck.
It seems to take forever before Jaskier can breathe without panting again, and by the time he relaxes and rolls back onto the bed, Geralt is breathing softly next to him, eyes shut. He'd think he was asleep if not for the gentle way Geralt's thumb brushes his skin.
Jaskier rolls onto him and Geralt releases him, pulling his arm back to his side. It feels a little like a dismissal, but Jaskier has nowhere else to go, so he settles in. He follows Geralt, pressing up against his back and draping an arm over his hip.
"You know," he hums, "the next time you want to have someone watch you get fucked, you could just ask me instead of paying for a second girl. I'd… be happy to join you."
"Hmm." Geralt doesn't sound opposed to the idea, so Jaskier presses on.
"I know you like seeing her," he adds, "but we could do this again, it was good, right?"
"Yeah," Geralt breathes and Jaskier slumps in relief, pressing a kiss to Geralt's shoulder. He was worried that maybe he was pressing too far, but evidently not. "You'd do that?"
"'S not purely selfless, my darling, you should see the way you looked tonight. Stunning." Geralt huffs and Jaskier nuzzles into his hair. "So beautiful, love. I could hardly believe you'd let me stay."
"Always wanted you there," Geralt mumbles, "didn't know how to ask."
"Well," Jaskier hums, "now you know you can. All you have to do is say come with me and I will."
"And if I wanted… other things?"
"Depends what they are, but you know I'd never say no to you, Geralt."
"Even if I just wanted you… without anyone else?" Jaskier's breath catches, but he forces the words out.
"I think it might be better to have this conversation in the morning," he whispers, "but yes, Geralt. Anything you want." Geralt presses back against him and Jaskier smiles into his hair.
"Jask," he hums, "will you stay for tonight?"
"Darling, if you have me, I'll stay forever."
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beskarhearts · 3 years
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Silence (Din Djarin x reader)
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Connection series pt. 1
Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader (no use of Y/N)
Warnings: cursing, mention of family members passing away, nightmares
Word count: A little over 3.2K
Summary: The Mandalorian is an extremely quiet man, not saying much of anything or making any noise, which is driving his new partner crazy.
Notes:  I love these two together so I am going to write about them multiple times and am making it into a series. All the parts for this will be on my masterlist!
 Next Part
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The silence was killing you.
During the day, it wasn’t as bad. The child usually gurgled and rambled away, speaking words only he could understand. The sounds of his giggles filled the air and lighted the mood. You would talk to the kid constantly, having him as a new loyal companion who would listen to you with wide eyes, responding in his own little ways.
But eventually the hours would die out and the kid would finally go to sleep for the night. And that is when the complete silence would kick in. Besides the soft snores of the child and the endless whir of the Razor Crest traveling through hyperspace, there would be absolutely no noise. No speaking, humming, clearing of the throat, nada.
You were used to being alone. You didn’t really have a lot of friends or companions before you joined the Mandalorian and his child, but it wasn’t quiet like this. When you were alone, you would hum or silently sing. You’d open your window and listen to the world around you. But, the Razor Crest was void of all of that, as well as the Mandalorian.
You honestly didn’t how it was possible. It had only been a matter of a few weeks now, but you had noticed how the Mandalorian could go hours without making even the quietest of noises. No cough, no heavy breathing, no words. He would just sit in the cockpit of his ship and stare into the hyperspace, seeming to study it for hours at end with no interruptions. The only time he would make noise is when he was fixing a weapon or the ship, or the eventual noises that accompanied him when he eventually shuffled his way into bed. 
It drove you nuts. The silence was eerie and gave you too much time to think, to dwell on things you shouldn’t. But it wasn’t like you could just walk up to Mando and start a conversation with him. You knew little to nothing about the man in beskar, but you knew that he enjoyed his silence and enjoyed being left alone. When you first boarded the ship and joined him and his child, you tried to talk to him. You would crack jokes and sarcastically tease him like you did with everyone. But, he didn’t seem to be amused by that or succumb to your humor. He wouldn’t laugh and he barely even responded. He would just stare at you with his helmet until he eventually turned away to do something else. 
You thought maybe he was just shy, not used to the company of a person. Maybe he just needed time to warm up to you. So, you decided you would let him speak first. You’d keep quiet like he wanted until he was comfortable enough to spark a conversation with you. When you came up with this plan, you relied on the fact  that eventually he must speak to you. I mean you were stuck together and what was he going to do - never say anything ever? At the time, it seemed like an atrocious thought but now you had deemed it was very much possible you would spend your future days in complete silence when you were with the Mandalorian. Your plan to wait for Mando to speak now seemed ridiculous. Were you really not going to say anything and live in silence until the giant, glorified tin can decided to speak? I mean kriff, that day may never even come. 
You sat on the floor of the belly of the Razor Crest, listening to the soft little breathes of the child as he lay sleeping in his hammock that the Mandalorian had resurrected for him. The Mandalorian was sat in the cockpit as always, out of sight, and you were alone. You had tried to go to sleep, hoping that would ease the uncomfortableness of the silence but it was hard for you to sleep nowadays. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw images of your parents and grandmother and those were memories too painful to relive for you. Nightmares plagued your nights so instead you would sit there awake for many hours, eventually laying down but spending most of your time staring at the ceiling above you. 
Your mind drifted eventually, thinking of the child and how much you cared for him. You would never dare describe yourself as his mother, more like a glorified nanny at this point, but you felt a connection with the little one. He was warm and full of light and so much power. He seemed like a simple little kid but he was so much more complex. 
You sat in the same spot thinking and didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you heard the thud of the Mandalorians boots on the floor. You looked up at the man, watching as he let go of the ladder that took him to and from the cockpit. You expected him to walk to his cot and close the hatch to it as he always did but instead his modulated voice let out a single sentence: “What was that?”
It took you a minute to process the fact that he had spoken to you and you felt yourself freeze up. You had been waiting for the man to finally say something, anything to you. Anything that would interrupt the silence. But now that it was happening, it felt so uncomfortable. You guess eventually you had gotten used to the silence and Mando trying to speak to you felt so odd, for him and yourself. 
“What are you talking about?” You looked over at the child, but he was still knocked out cold. No noise came from him. Nothing knocked over or fell over. You heard nothing, as always. 
“You were humming.” 
Well, shit. You hadn’t even realized you were doing so. You probably annoyed him with it. You must have slipped into it, humming away to a tune you thought had been long forgotten but was apparently still very prevalent in your mind. You stood to your feet, looking at the Mandalorian and letting out a small “I’m sorry.”
Then you froze. Why the kriff were you apologizing? This man has made you sit in complete and utter silence for weeks and you finally hum a little because you are a damn human. And then he has the audacity to ask you what you were doing. “Actually, no. I am not sorry.” You clarified, feeling how annoyed you were with all the silence come out.
And what a surprise, the Mandalorian responded with complete silence, the only indication he was listening being a small tilt of his helmet.
“Sir, have you ever considered the possibility that you are a droid or something?” You sarcastically let out, perching a hand on your hip as you stared back.
“What?” A small scoff followed, sound distorted through his mask but you picked it up. The Mandalorian copied your movements, perching his own hand on his hip and cocking it out to the side.
“Well, I’ve just never met a human being who could sit in absolute silence and never say a word for so long. You must be a droid.” You let out a laugh. “Actually, I have met droids who have talked way more than you. I swear you vocabulary only consists of grunts, sighs, and saying ‘This is the way.’ Oh, and tonight we’ve added to your extensive list, a thrilling ‘What was that?’” 
You let out a loud sigh as you finished your rambling, staring back at the man before you. And you didn’t think you could believe your ears at the noise that followed.
“Wait...was that a...” You pause, staring at him incredulously, “Did you just laugh or did your helmet malfunction?”
“I am able to laugh.” Mando said shortly and you swore that his voice seemed a little lighter than it ever had before.
“Well, how would I ever know that? Whenever I tell a joke or say something, you just respond with silence. I thought you were incapable of human emotion because, sir, I am kriffing hilarious and you haven’t laughed at my jokes once.” 
“I laughed at you tonight.” You wanted to rip your hair out at his matter-of-fact attitude. 
“Nooo. You didn’t laugh at my joke. You laughed because your complete silence is driving me loony. The only person I ever talk to anymore is the child and I don’t know if he can even understand me!” You throw your hands in the direction of the child, who still was sleeping peacefully away. “I mean how do you do it? Just say nothing for hours?”
“Mandalorians aren’t very talkative people.”
“So, when you are in a room with people, you just sit there and don’t say a word the whole time? What about friends or other Mandalorians?”
“I don’t talk to people. I’ve always been alone.”
The statement was made very definitively, with no emotion, but it made your annoyance simmer away slightly. You considered that the life of a Mandalorian must be very lonely. Nobody to talk to. You always have to keep your name and face hidden, never able to open up to someone completely and fully. You didn’t know much about Mandalorians but you could sense that connection and feelings weren’t of much importance. It was supposed to a life that consisted of an endless cycle of catching bounties and getting credits. 
You knew that the Mandalorian that stood before you was already different, capable of connecting with a creature and caring for him. You saw it in the way he would mumble to the child, hold him against him, or even when you caught him wiggling his finger for the child to grab. The Mandalorian had been adjusting to life with one little child by his side and then you came along. And you would have to guess that a snarky, fully grown female was a bit harder to be comfortable with than the kid was.
“Well, you aren’t anymore. I know it probably kills you but you are stuck with me for a little while. And I’m not saying you have to talk to me all the time but I am here to talk to. And I think if I sit here in complete silence for another hour, I will go crazy.” You give the Mando a small smile, hoping to ease some of the tension in the room and not annoy his with your words. You didn’t want to force him to talk to you, but you also kind of did.
There was silence for a few moments and you were worried you scared off the Mando until he nodded slightly. “Okay.”
You let out a sigh of relief and quietly clapped your hands together, rocking back and forth on your heels. “Okay. Good.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
You raised your eyebrows, shocked that he was still engaging in conversation. “Sure.” 
“Where did you hear that song you were humming?” Your smile dropped a little bit at the question but you tried to cover it quickly, though you could tell Mando could sense the change in your attitude. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s... umm...” You closed your eyes for a second and let out a small breath, feeling your fists clench. “My mom used to sing it to me to get me to sleep. It is just a silly little lullaby.” You looked down at your feet, feeling burned from remembering the memory. 
“My mother used to sing that to me as well.” You felt an initial wave of confusion from his words. You had never thought about the fact that the Mandalorian had parents. I mean, you knew he didn’t just come from nothing. But, the idea of the Mandalorian as a child, with a family, seemed so bizarre. You tried to imagine a small child with a mother and father but couldn’t help but to just imagine his helmet on a smaller body. You then wondered how long he had been a Mandalorian as a child and if his parents were Mandalorians as well.
Your mind whirled with questions from the one small sentence he said, but you didn’t want to scare him off. You just let out a small, “Huh. Small universe, I guess.”
“Do your parents know where you are now?”
You wanted to tell Mando to stop asking you questions. You wanted to tell him to leave you alone but you didn’t want to shut him out right when he was finally starting to open up a little. You couldn’t slam the door in his face that you just convinced him to open. But this was the one thing you didn’t want to talk about. The one thing you were hoping was never mentioned. You looked back down at your feet, balling your fists and closing your eyes to build a dam against the tears threatening to fall. But, all you saw was your families face and that caused a bang in your chest that almost felt unbearable.
Mando knew instantly what the twist of pain in your face meant, for he had done it himself for years and years at the mention of family. It had been so long since he lost his family but it still burned and caused an aching feeling in his chest he didn’t know if he would ever be able to get rid of. He saw all of that in your eyes and felt dumb for asking the question. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
You let out a shakey sigh and look back up at the Mandalorian. You imagined he was probably judging you and your weakened state. He probably saw you as fragile and wrecked, something he didn’t want to handle. Damaged goods might as well have been stamped on your forehead. “It’s fine.”
You turned around, wiping at your eyes and starting to trail back to your small bed on the floor when you heard four words that simultaneously made you feel less alone but also broke your heart. “Mine are gone too.” 
You turned to look back at the Mandalorian and looked him up and down. To the average person, he’d look like he always did: strong and bold. But, you saw the slight sag of his shoulders and the way his helmet slightly tilted down to the floor. You couldn’t see the pain that was on his face, but you could sense what he was feeling. A layer to the Mandalorian suddenly opened up to you that wasn’t there before. He wasn’t just a set of armor. He was a man, one who had been broken and scarred by the horror of the world. And even though he was covered head to toe in beskar, it didn’t mean he didn’t feel emotions. It just meant he couldn’t show them. Feeling emotions like these were bad enough but having no one to see it or confide in made it feel impossible to deal with somedays.
“I’m so sorry, Mando.”
“It’s okay. It was a really long time ago.” The words were said gruffly, as if they were bricks being built in a wall to push back the emotions he was feeling.
You wanted to hug him or grab his hand. Do something to console him and show him he wasn’t alone, that his pain could be your pain even though your own was so raw. You barely knew this man, having had your first real conversation with him only tonight. But, you felt like you understood him a lot better than before and in a way others might not be able to. And you wanted to hand your strength over to him and you didn’t want to admit it, but you wouldn’t have minded if he had handed his own over to you.
Instead of physically reaching out, you hoped to ease his pain with your words. “I don’t know your parents but I imagine they’d have to be proud of you. The way you care for the kid... you are a good father, Mando. And I know you insist you aren’t the kids father, but he sees you that way. I can tell. And he cares about you and I can tell that you care for him. And you took me in even though you didn’t have to.” You sniffled but brought a small smile to your face, hoping to lighten the mood with a joke. “And I know I am a pain and you’ve let me stay, so you must be a good person.”
“Thank you.” You couldn’t tell if your words helped at all but you still smiled in response. 
“Well, we went from not talking to me almost crying in front of you, so I would say this is going spectacularly well.” You let out a chuckle, once again rubbing at your eyes. It was bizarre to you how one conversation seemed to open up so much between you two but it also created so many other questions you wanted to ask but they were ones that would have to wait for future conversations you hoped to have. Space and life was hard enough, but with someone to talk to, it made it bearable. 
“I also added to my vocabulary.” The words were said in the same monotone way all his words were said, but you felt a real smile brighten up your face. The Mandalorian just made a joke with you. You had simply hoped for him to say anything to you to end the silence and here he was making a joke with you. 
“Look at you, making jokes. In no time, you will be talking more than I do.”
“That is unlikely.” An exasperated tone was expressed with the words, along with what could be seen as a sarcastic shake of the head. His humor was dry, but it was something you could decipher and appreciate.
“I don’t know if I should be insulted or not by the way you said that.” You teased and you swear you heard another laugh until a piercing cry interrupted it. You looked over at the child who was throwing his hands in the air and wailing, with big tears filling his eyes that looked up at you and his father. “Oh, you wanted to join in on the pity party too?”
You started making your way to the child when Mando strolled past you and grab him, holding him in his arms and rocking him lightly. “I got him. You go to sleep.”
You smiled warmly at the Mando, wondering if he was doing the same under his helmet. “Okay. Night, Mando.”
You wandered to your bed on the floor and listened as the Mandalorian spoke to the child. He whispered as best as he could with the modulator on and you couldn’t hear much through his low whisper, but it brought peace to you. You liked the way he talked to the kid and how the kid slowly sank back into a peaceful sleep with the comfort of the Mandalorian.
Eventually, the lights turned out and you heard the Mandalorian shuffle into his bed, closing the hatch to it. Instead of dwelling on the past or feeling the pain of your loss, you smiled into the darkness, reflecting on your conversation. Eventually, your eyes drifted close and you fell into sleep.
That was the first night in a long time that you didn’t have a nightmare.
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dwellordream · 3 years
Text
“Critics of Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde tend to regard the eponymous female character as either the tale's victim or its villain. Those subscribing to the latter position consider Criseyde cagey, devious, and self-centered. In their view, Chaucer creates a character who fits within the "power of women" topos, in which a wily woman effects a worthy man's ruin. During the Middle Ages, "sermons, treatises, instruction manuals, poetry and romances included lists of celebrated men who were brought low by the apparently irresistible power of women and their sexuality." Critics of Troilus and Criseyde argue by analogy when they regard Troilus as suffering such a fate at the hands of his love. They imply that since most medieval writers portray women as manipulative black-widow figures bent on destroying men, Chaucer must have done so as well. For example, D. W. Robertson, Jr., notes that, for Criseyde, "the mastery of a man like Troilus, a man of prowess and renown, a prince, and a handsome prince at that, would be quite an achievement."
Winthrop Wetherbee also emphasizes the virtues of the ill-fated Trojan prince and stresses that, no matter how interesting we may find the duplicitous Criseyde, we cannot admire her, for she remains "incapable of anything like the integrity or aspiration of Troilus." These critics, whom Carolyn Dinshaw describes as "masculine readers" of the text, create the impression that Chaucer has fabricated a terrifying, power-hungry figure in Criseyde. She emerges as less a woman than a monstrous, near-masculine, abomination, the incarnation of the Medusa myth that Helene Cixous regards as the traditional literary stereotype used to describe an indomitable female character. Dinshaw attributes this view of Criseyde to the critics as well as to Chaucer: "Masculine reading in Troilus and Criseyde is dominated at last by a desire to contain instability, carnal appetite - those things that... medieval writers (and their descendants, modern critics) associate with femina."
In an effort to counteract this ominous image of Criseyde, Dinshaw and other feminist critics have repositioned Chaucer's heroine as the tale's victim. They see Criseyde as the polar opposite of the conniving character imagined by the text's "masculine readers," regarding her instead as an emblem of passive femininity whose submissive nature makes her vulnerable to the machinations of ruthless men. Angela Jane Weisl, for instance, views the hapless heroine as "invaded by male power," and Catherine Cox regards the consummation scene as tantamount to rape. Focusing upon Criseyde's unfortunate position as a beautiful woman trapped in a society that treats her and all women like "commodities to be traded," Dinshaw exculpates Criseyde for her seemingly callous treatment of Troilus. Far from being fickle, Criseyde, in favoring Diomede, selflessly works to further her nation's male-dictated agenda. In Dinshaw's view, Criseyde is merely a pawn of the Trojan patriarchy, a bargaining chip used to establish a temporary truce.
These critics may succeed in exonerating Criseyde; however, they also succeed in making her much less interesting. Stripped of any motives of her own, Criseyde becomes a mere automaton, and the reader's interest shifts to the men who manipulate her. Unwittingly perhaps, feminist critics, by curtailing Criseyde's agency, diminish her significance. They too sacrifice Criseyde, flattening her character and transforming her into a type, another example of the endlessly suffering woman who must endure countless indignities at the hands of callous men. Readers, however, need not relegate Criseyde to the status of victim in order to redeem her character. Criseyde, certainly, does not view herself as a passive pawn, and this essay attempts to read the events comprising Troilus and Criseyde from her point of view, a perspective that has often been slighted by critics intent upon examining the agenda of her nation or the psyche of her lover.
Criseyde's actions, for instance, indeed may be constrained by her nation's perilous position, but so are those of her male counterparts. Even valiant Hector finds himself powerless to gainsay the people's will when they decide to trade Criseyde for Antenor, for the lords make the compelling argument that the Trojans desperately need more manpower in order to rid themselves of the Greeks who have relentlessly plagued the besieged town (IV, 176-96). The council ignores Hector's angry protests and enjoins him to set aside his ideals, exclaiming "'O Ector, lat tho fantasies be!'" (IV, 193). Troilus also feels constrained by his nation's plight. He so fears the opprobrium of his father and of Parliament should he strive to rescue Criseyde from her awful fate that he is rendered impotent, unable to make even the slightest effort to effect his love's salvation (IV, 540-67).
Criseyde, however, does try to wield power, albeit within the narrow scope granted her. She lays the ground rules for her affair with Troilus, for instance (III, 169-75), and she constantly engages in activities such as reading and writing that Cixous regards as potentially subversive to patriarchal society. Unlike Troilus, she displays great confidence in her own abilities and plots to bring about her safe return to Troy without her lover's help (IV, 1296-1414). As her uncle Pandarus understands, his niece admires men of action, men like heroic Hector who value their individuality and refuse to let challenges daunt them. Such men strive to follow their own moral code and often refuse to conform when they believe that they have judged correctly and society has erred. Hector, for example, does not shy away from offering Criseyde his protection, although such an offer might be viewed with disfavor among those incensed at her father's treacherous act (1,117-23).
Nor does he readily succumb to the chorus of voices demanding Criseyde's exchange for Antenor but, rather, continues to protest passionately against such a maneuver up until the very moment when Parliament seals the Trojan beauty’s fate: For which delibered was by parlement For Antenor to yelden out Criseyde,/And it pronounced by the president, Altheigh that Ector "nay" ful of te preyde. (IV, 211-14) Criseyde attempts to appropriate this heroic ethos for herself, believing firmly that the challenges she will face in her attempt to escape the Greeks will prove far from insurmountable. By the end of the poem, however, Criseyde has recognized finally that the man for whom she is willing to risk her life lacks the qualities of a hero, qualities that she believes she herself possesses and qualities that she had once thought Troilus held in abundance, making her fall in love with him. She now realizes that her lover does not share her faith in the heroic ideal and that his earlier heroic stance was nothing more than a pose, part of his attempt to make her engage with him in the game of courtly love.
Laura Howes believes that "Chaucer is often his most critical of established social and literary systems when he appears his most conventional." Even though the poet fashions Criseyde as a strong-willed woman, his poem does not represent a straightforward rendition of the "power of women" topos. Instead, Chaucer uses this convention to expose the hypocrisy embedded in courtly love, a system in which the male lover feigns to cede power to a lady only ultimately to subjugate her. Chaucer employs the "power of women" motif subversively to create an image of a self-determined, desiring woman, who yearns for a wholesome, natural sexual relationship - a relationship not tainted by the artifice of courtly conventions - and who refuses to be transformed into the passive receptacle of a male lover's passion.
…The first time Troilus sets his eyes upon her, Criseyde displays her strong-willed nature. When Troilus ogles her, the Trojan beauty flashes him a look that implies "What, may I nat stonden here?" (I, 292). Her haughty attitude is not only bold but also rash, for she, the daughter of a traitor, refuses to submit to the gaze of a king's son. Criseyde misinterprets Troilus's behavior, regarding it not as prompted by her beauty but, rather, as offering a challenge concerning her right to participate in Troy's public domain. She fears that this prince might not share his brother Hector's generous attitude concerning her status as a citizen of Troy. Unlike Troilus, at this moment her thoughts revolve not around the possibility of a love affair but, rather, the ramifications of the ongoing Greek siege and her father's subsequent defection. Critics often stress Criseyde's meek and fearful nature, but in this instance Chaucer depicts her as a brave woman indeed, holding her head proudly in the public sphere and refusing to show shame for her father's misdeeds.
Chaucer makes her audacious behavior all the more striking by having it follow the narrator's assertion that Criseyde stands as the very emblem of femininity (I, 281-87). One would expect such a woman to accept passively Troilus's stares, to blush perhaps, and bow her head, but not to gaze unabashedly back. Criseyde may seem feminine, but she displays an inclination to behave in a masculine manner. She resembles Portia in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, who possesses a "man's mind, but a woman's might." By juxtaposing Criseyde's feminine appearance with her bold behavior, Chaucer suggests Criseyde may possess a masculine spirit as well, and, indeed, the narrator describes her as "nevere lasse mannyssh in semynge" (I, 284, emphasis added). The author's use of the word "semynge" indicates that Criseyde's femininity relates only to her surface, her good looks.
Criseyde's exquisite appearance belies her true nature as a woman who cherishes her autonomy and will not readily succumb to a man's will. Before Pandarus presses Troilus's suit upon her, Criseyde lives peacefully in a predominately feminine realm. Weisl stresses that Calchas 's defection leaves his daughter fearful and vulnerable: "Calchas' exit at night through the walls of Troy is the first event of Troilus and Criseyde; in the vacuum of power created by his absence stands Criseyde, 'wel neigh out of hir wit for sorvve and fere' (I, 108)." Criseyde, however, loses no time in recruiting Hector as her defender, recognizing that she needs to protect both herself and her feminine retinue. Her decision to appeal to Hector represents her first act as a matriarch and emerges as a deed of heroic proportions, for she has not only her own interest but also the interest of the members of her household in mind.
She recognizes the peril of her position and approaches the Trojan prince with all the tact of a skilled diplomat engaged in a dangerous and urgent mission. Using her feminine appearance to her advantage, she dresses in "widewes habit large of samyt broun" (I, 109) to underscore that she too has been betrayed by her father's duplicity. Her wretchedness as well as her loveliness move the noble prince to pity her plight, and she elicits his oath that no harm will befall her as long as she resides in Troy (I, 113-26). Further, Hector promises to protect Calchas’s daughter without demanding any favor in return, revealing that Criseyde has played the role of a chaste, and hence untouchable, widow with consummate skill.
Once Criseyde assures herself of Hector's staunch but laissez-faire support, she finds her father's desertion a boon. Unlike Calchas, whose arbitrary behavior toward his daughter in calling her to the Greek camp indicates the power he holds over her, Hector leaves Criseyde alone, free to pursue her own will. Thus, her father's defection enables Criseyde to enjoy finally her widowed state. Judith Bennett notes that for many medieval women, widowhood emerged as the first time since their marriage that they could exert a measure of control over their own fortunes. For instance, these women often would serve as managers of their deceased spouses' estates, a role Criseyde may assume finally after her father abandons Troy.
Criseyde revels in her newfound autonomy, exulting that she now stands "unteyd in lusty leese" (II, 752) without a husband to "Chek mat" her every move (II, 754). Criseyde's use of this metaphor to describe her marriage offers more evidence of her steely will; she had not been a woman who meekly obeyed her husband's every whim. Criseyde's allusion to chess also reveals that she thinks of herself in martial terms. Freed from both her husband's and her father's control, she no longer considers herself the passive, acted-upon king but rather a powerful and potent player. Her situation resembles that of Binx Boiling's aunt in Walker Percy's The Moviegoer, who "with her illustrious brothers dead and gone might now at last become what they [her brothers] had been and as a woman had been denied her": her family's champion.
As mentioned, Chaucer depicts Criseyde's household as comprised entirely of women. Such an image evokes the realm of the Amazons, a society to which Chaucer alludes in the Knight's Tale. The poet depicts these women's pursuits as potentially subversive to patriarchal culture. Pandarus, for instance, finds Criseyde and her companions sitting together listening to a tale, a common entertainment for aristocratic women of Chaucer's day; however, these ladies do not listen to a romance but rather to a "geste" concerning "the siege of Thebes" (II, 83-84). They represent a cluster of women reading about the actions of men - they are feminine readers of a masculine text, the epic. Criseyde's choice of reading material reveals her intellectual curiosity as well as her attachment to the heroic ideal. She wishes to understand the workings of the public domain and to grasp the significance of her nation's own war. Additionally, as a woman who likens herself to a figure in chess, she senses, perhaps, a connection between herself and these legendary heroes and looks to their tales for inspiration for her own bold deeds.”
- Mary Behrman, “Heroic Criseyde.”
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sneyrwrites · 4 years
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hi! can i request for a levi x reader scenario where the reader is a really powerful titan shifter and levi finds out about it. slight angst and fluff would be great. im apologize if this was confusing, this is my first time requesting anything.
Don’t worry! It’s perfectly fine, and this was so fun to write i went a little overboard and this ended much longer than what i intended.
Also, this has spoilers of the last chapters of season 1, specifically, when the female titan appears!  if you haven’t got there yet, feel free to send another ask letting me know and I’ll work on a spoiler free one.
Thank u for requesting! xx
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|Wordcount: 3183 | |Warnings: Curse, spoilers.| 
“TRUST”  TITAN SHIFTER!READER X LEVI ACKERMAN
Well... things escalated quickly.
As if being a titan shifter yourself wasn’t enough, now you were in Levi’s squad and needed to protect Eren, another titan shifter like yourself. Being in the trial traumatized you, proving your fears were funded. They wanted to open him up like a fish. You wouldn’t expose your integrity like that.
Honesty was overrated.
How could you explain the fact that you couldn’t remember since when or how you got the power? You knew as much as they did about how the shift worked, being as lost as Eren was with that part of yourself. In fact, before Eren Showed up you’d thought you were one of a kind, an oddity meant to be feared, cursed to hide your real potential.
The fear of what they could do to you was enough to not share your abilities with Erwin, and when the new kid, came around you were too deep into the lie to just be like “Oh hey, by the way I’m also a titan shifter and I stood in the sidelines as hundreds of my comrades died without helping... I’m not selfish at all haha... Please don’t kill me.”
You feared what Levi would do if he found out, he’ll hate you for sure. The trust could never be earned again, he’ll be too hurt. The late night chess and tea encounters you had with him would be lost forever. You’ll be lucky if he didn’t decapitate you himself, titans had taken everything away from him after all.
The expedition was going like normal at first.
You were riding in between Nifa and Eren, wondering who would make it out alive. You trusted your squad, and you knew they were going to make it, but the people your were acquainted from other teams were in danger, and a flash of jealousy surprised you, Eren could shift if he wanted to, but you had to settle for just watching the massacre, trying to fight and save whoever you could with only those weak as fuck swords.
Your eyes went to Levi riding ahead of you, his back straight with a confidence only someone extremely strong and brave had. You admire him, and worked hard to improve inspiration by his example, your wounds heald so the only thing you had to fear was your secret being discovered.
But even so, the stench of fear was in the air, specially coming from the new recruits, the overall mood was thick and heavy, and there was also the fact that no one knew what was the mission in real life, the only thing we could do really was trust our superiors.
An hour into the expedition launched a guy from another regiment came to give the reports. You were too busy looking at the green flares shooting up in the sky as to know what he said, and for Eren’s expression you didn’t want to know either. Petra went away to carry the message under Levi’s commands and as soon as she left black smoke rose to the clouds.
An eccentric.
Dread collied in your stomach as you reached for your gun to shoot a new signal and noticed a forest of giant trees up ahead. Was Erwin really going to make you go through that titan’s den? What was going on?
The sun was blocked by the high treetops, and you and your squad made your way through the somber trail- Your exact thoughts and confusion was clear in your teammates faces, as Eren complained to Levi about the whole situation.
The new kid looked towards you, fear pooling in his green eyes, and you tried to look as calm and composed as you could, but the sweat was pearling your forehead, so it wasn’t convincing. You didn’t like the situation one bit. Turning your head to the front, you called Levi’s attention.
“Captain Levi...” You started, he turned to you and his expression softened a little, but a few tense lines remained. “Wh...” Your question was cut short by the sound of a shot, a black trail ascending behind your back. You were in deep shit.
“Take out your swords. Whatever is coming will appear all of the sudden.” Eren’s fear was almost palpable now, and as you turned to observe the signal once more you saw it.
A female titan coming from the side.
“Captain! We need to switch!” Petra’s plea to leave the horses behind to have a better chance was full of terror, but Levi didn’t react, not a single muscle constricting.
The female titan broke through a bark and a piece scared your horse, almost hitting you.
“(Y/n)!” Levi shouted, turning to you.
Once you calmed your horse down enough to have control over it, you resumed your escape, a few feet behind. Encouraging the frightened animal you tried to smile at Levi, letting him know you were okay, but his eyes were back to the front, a scowl in his features.
Looking behind you, you could see the short distance you had between the female titan and yourself. If you kept that pace she was going to catch you. And she wasn’t just an eccentric. She was just like Eren and yourself. You could see it in her focused eyes as she grabbed cables, turning and squishing your partners' bodies as if they were made of nothing but clay. An urge to transform and rip the bitch’s head off was so strong it was almost hurting you, but you had to believe in the capability’s of your commander. He must have a plan, and you and your freak power wasn’t taking into consideration. It was better to stay out of it.
But she kicked your fucking horse.
Your body flew across the air, and you could hear Petra and Oolo screaming your name, but you collided against a tree and the sound of something breaking muffled their voices, the crack reverberating into your very soul. As you were Falling to the hard floor, the only thing that was on your mind was your squad, she was about to get them and for once you were sure it was worth the sacrifice if it meant they would survive.
Rolling to your side you saw Levi’s shot a flare and the sound of an explosion made your ears ring.
That was the plan all along? To catch the fucking titan!? And to think you almost blow your cover for nothing. Fucking Erwin and his secrecy.
You tried to get up, but pain shot through your arm. For sure it was broken, and to make it worse the bone was sticking out. It would be fine in a few moments, not being that serious of a wound, but you were dangerously close to the rest of the surveys. If they saw you like that it might raise suspicions.
Sucking in a breath, you grabbed your wrist and pulled to adjust the bone back in place. The crunch and the stabbing pain making you groan The steam started to raise from the wound and a sigh came out of your mouth, the skin in your arm starting to regenerate .
“(Y/n)...?” Levi’s voice sent a shiver down your spine, and the fear nestled in your throat, constricting it. You hide your arm behind your back in a desperate and pathetic attempt to hide the truth.
You turned to him and wished you never saw him in that state. His eyes open and lost, confusion misting over his face. You looked at him fora couple of seconds, and you knew he had seen, the deep frown and his slack mouth were a clear indicative. To say he was shocked was an understatement.
“What the fuck!?” He said, drawing his blades out, the pain of betrayal flashing across his eyes. Shame rushed trough you, and your heart broke at the thought of him being disappointed. That was the last thing you wanted, but still managed to do it in your own incompetence. “You’re one of them?”
Levi took a step forward raising his sword, but you turned around and took off, incapable of stand for another moment the broken look he was giving you, his rushed footsteps followed after you. Tears slipped out of your eyes and without looking back you shot your Odm gear at the farther tree you could and allowed the pressure of the gas take you away from him and from the people you called home. Too afraid to explain yourself to them..
Levi didn’t follow after you.
You had screwed up, and badly. If only you had been honest from the beginning maybe this would’ve turned out better than it did.
Why were you even scared? Levi was trustworthy and a logical person, the fear wasn’t going to phase him enough to kill you without hearing an explanation.
Sitting on top of a branch high enough for no one to see you, you left the faucet open, and the tears fell free, sobs rocking your body. You had lost everything in only a second of careless behaviour, and now you couldn’t go back home. There was nothing left for you.
Time was lost to you, but it couldn’t be more than fifteen minutes, when your weeping session was interrupted by a terrified scream.
“Petra!” Oolo’s voice got to your ears, 
Gunther and Eld could no longer tease you about your crush on some mystery man
Everything was lost in such a short amount of time.
The Tree you were sitting on trembled, and absentmindedly you looked down to its base, the smiles of your squad still on your mind.
Eren’s half head had rolled to the base.
The sight detonated something within you, almost as if your soul had broken in half, and now someone was triturating it into a million more.
A scream that would put any Banshee to shame erupted from somewhere deep in your core. Your hands grasping your hair and pulling, trying to relief in someway the anguish you were feeling.
You were going to kill her, it was all her fault. You’ve lost everything because of her.
The sharp pain on your scalp was followed by a burning hot sensation washing over you. Only half conscious of what was happening, still too shocked to realize just how things got out of hand. You got up from the floor.
When did you fall? You couldn’t remember.
Steam rose from the severed head. A lingering touch of conciousness was still present, and you felt the failure, your teammates efforts had been in vain, and you couldn’t help them in time.
Your broken cry scared the birds away, and with a blood thirst you’ve never felt before you took off, in search of the female titan.
Zooming through trees, you ran in the direction the head came from. And soon you saw her trying to run away. Eren was nowhere to be found, and that only fuel you.
You didn’t stop once you reached her, instead deciding it was best to send both of your bodies to the floor in a mess of wrestling limbs. Managing to get her under you, your fist collided against her body. 
You were trying to feel anything, even if only a tingle of pain, to dissipate your frustration and grief, but the stupid titan’s body was like a protective shield.
You roared and in a desperate attempt you head-butted her, skulls cracking on impact.
The blonde titan looked at you with open and scared blue eyes, now sporting an evident bent in her forehead. If she was trying to get some kind of mercy, it was not going to happen, not after she obliterated your friends like they were just bugs, not even worthy of a second glance.
Twisting and turning behind your weight, she was desperately trying to get up, and twisting her hips she managed to throw your body away. But it was not the end. You were so lost to the pain than once you regained your balance you grabbed her once more. 
Standing behind her, your fingers grasped her jaw, and you pulled up, trying to return the favor of what she did to Eren. Muscles ripped because of the brute force, as she desperately tried to claw at your arms. As you had her mouth open, you were going to keep going until you rip her to shreds, put the sight of two horrified people stopped your movements. 
Your body locked up when you and Levi made eye contact, Mikasa by his side staring horrified at you. You were barely aware of the titan, still thrashing against your arms, but there was no use, you were too strong and you had the upper hand. 
In a flash Levi strapped one of his hooks into the tree next to your head and dived into the female titan’s mouth, retrieving Eren’s body covered in filthy saliva. He then went back to where Mikasa was, but his eyes never left your body. 
Your conciousness came back when his steel orbs caught your attention, and shame rushed through your body. There was no way you’ll confront Levi after he saw you as a titan. Mikasa grabbed Eren’s body in her arms, but you didn’t wait around to see how things would turn out. 
Turning around you sprinted to the exit of the woods, once you were out, there was no way for him to catch in the open field without his ODM.
“Wait!” Levi’s screamed, but that didn’t stop you at all.
You had almost made it, but suddenly the world titled and your titan form fell face first into the ground. In that moment whatever remainded of conciousness you had abbandoned you,  the las thing in your mind was Levi’s dissapointed look before everything dissapeard.
The light was annoyingly disrupting your slumber.
A groan left your lips, eyes still closed. Who opened your curtains? You always kept them close to prevent a thing like this from happening. As you tried to sit up on the bed, you couldn’t feel your forearms at all. That was weird.
“I see you woke up” Someone’s voice alerted you, and the sleepiness flew out the window.
Opening your eyes, you noticed Levi leaning against the wall in front of you. His face like stone, not a single emotion coming out of him. His storm grey eyes locked on yours, staring with an intensity that rose the hair in your neck.
Trying once more to get up you found yourself incapable. You looked at him in disbelief of his audacity.
“You fucking chopped my arms out!? What the actual fuck Levi!?” Indignation sparked in your chest, how dare he? You were planning on disappearing forever, finally letting the Survey Corps in peace.
“Was it all a lie?” The hurt in his voice stopped you mid-sentence, his words showed what his face didn’t, and it broke your soul a little bit more. 
You didn’t respond, your eyes downcast. He took a step towards you, leaving his spot at the wall. You could almost feel the warmth radiating from his body, and you tensed up at his proximity.
“I asked you a question... Was it all a lie cadet?”  He used his authority, the threat implied in his sentence. "(Y/N)… why?” 
“It scared me… " You whispered, looking up at his impassive face. “I don’t know how I got it, and I thought… I don’t know.” You tried to swallow the knot in your throat, but it was no use. The tears would fall soon if this conversation was to continue.
“So you don’t trust me?” He claimed, an eyebrow rising in questioning.
“Don’t be dumb.” You protested, there was no use in being formal and respectful with him at the moment. “I’ve followed your ass to death a thousand times. You know more about me than myself. I told you I was scared, you’re not in charge, if someone found out before Eren showed up I was going to be executed. Just look at what happened in the court room. ”
Exasperated, Levi uncrossed his arms, pinching the bridge of his nose, almost as if he was imploring for patience. His voice was clipped and harsh when he spoke again.
“You surely don’t trust me if you thought I would allow that dumbass. I would’ve ended whoever attempted to harm you.” 
 A breath hitching in your throat, surprise sucker punching you in the gut. But ten times more shocking than his confession was the fact of him circling you with his arms.
His hands found the back of your head, and he guided your head against his chest. The position was surely not comfortable for him, standing  next to the bed and leaning over, but still, he didn’t let go. His hand caressed your hair, and the tenderness of his touch made you cry again.  Levi’s grip on you tightened, and he stayed quiet, as you let all the stress and fear leave your body in the form of tears.
You wanted to hug him back so badly, but because of your lack of arms you couldn’t do it. Once the sobs stopped, he let go of your body. His eyes scanning your red eyes and wet cheeks. You wanted to wipe your tears, so he wouldn’t see them, but it was impossible at the moment, your hands still not regenerated.
“I’m sorry about your arms. But I couldn’t let you go away like that.” He sounded ashamed, which was a kind of out of character of him. Levi’s icy fingers caressed your cheeks, as he caught a stray droplet that was sliding down your face." Erwin wants to see you in his office, but I’ll take you there when your arms grow back… Would that make you feel safer?.”  He asked, concerned.
“Yeah… actually that would help.” Going face to face with the commander who you’ve been lying to for years, without a way of defending yourself was scary. 
“All right.” He conceded.
As if it was the most common thing in the world Levi moved the covers away and sat by my side. A blush crept up your neck at the close proximity.
“What are you doing!?”  You asked, flustered. Since when was the stoic captain so comfortable being in someone else’s personal space?
“Shut up. After everything that happened, the least you could do is let me rest. It’s been over 48 hours since I had a nap.” He laid down and pulled the covers up to our shoulders.  “I’ll be more at ease if I monitor you, just in case someone tries something funny… Unless you’re opposed to the idea?” His eyes bore into your own, making the temperature of the room rise a few degrees. What were you supposed to reply? Shaking your head no you settled next to him, looking at the roof as you tried to ignore Levi’s proximity, pleading your heart to slow down, afraid he might  hear it. 
“Good.” He answered, closing his eyes  “Oh, and (Y/n)… I’ll always have your back,  you can trust me so don’t lie to me again. Got it?” 
He turned around after that, his back now to you. 
Your heart sped up even more, and the feelings for Levi you tried to hide for such a long time resurfaced. And, no matter what his cold demanor was, at moments like this you could tell he cared for you too. 
You knew you’ll be all right if he was on your side. 
✘ Masterlist
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gwentoryfics · 4 years
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Hot for Teacher, Part 9
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GENRE | College Student x College Professor Smut AU
PAIRING | Reader x Hongseok x Hyunggu (Kino) x Wooseok
WORDS | 13.5k (oops)
SUMMARY | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.
WARNINGS | Swearing. Angggssstttt. Explicit smut. Penetrative sex. Oral sex (female receiving). 
PARTS | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • More Coming Soon
NOTE | This one was so hard to write! Thank you as always for your patience 💕 I’ll be waiting 24 hours to answer any asks you peaches send in so as not to spoil anything for other readers, but please let me know what you think! Also let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.
TAGS | @day6grams, @heyheydee7, @hhhongseok, @jinjinmyworld, @kkxn0​, @precious-seungwooya​, @seraplantery​, @the-deviant-world​, @yeosang-ponytail​
You wake up in the morning in a bed that’s clearly not your own and a smile comes to your lips when you remember everything that happened last night. You never imagined that you’d have such a crazy night with Yanan and Changgu, but you don’t regret it for one second. You give yourself a moment to stretch before climbing out of Changgu’s bed, noticing the mellow soreness in your muscles.
You slip on your clothes from the party and head out to the common area of the apartment, where Yanan and Changgu are both hard at work in the kitchen. 
“Good morning,” you sing-song, still feeling satisfied from last night.
Both boys turn around and smile at you. Yanan coos, “Morning, sweetheart.”
The pet name sends a tingle through you.
Changgu whisks something in a bowl as he greets you. “I was just about to make some scrambled eggs. Want some?”
“Yes, please.” You smile warmly and plop yourself down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. 
Yanan prepares a second cup of coffee and places it in front of you. “You’re in awfully high spirits this morning.”
“Yeah, thank you for that,” you raise an eyebrow as you blow on the top of your steaming coffee. Yanan gives you a flirty grin before drinking his own coffee and then peeling off to grab some fresh fruit from the refrigerator. 
Changgu pours the eggs into a frying pan and starts cooking up your breakfast. “Glad to hear you had fun last night. You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
“It was… great.” There are a million stronger adjectives you could use, such as amazing, incredible, magical, mind-blowing… but you don’t want to boost their egos too much. “Do you guys do this often?”
Changgu shrugs. “It’s sort of an occasional thing. Our tastes in women don’t always overlap, unfortunately. And even if we find someone we’re both interested in, she might not be interested in both of us.”
You hum and nod. It definitely doesn’t seem like something that could just magically fall into place super frequently. But based off of last night, you’re willing to bet that both boys are impressive lovers even on their own. They were each so attentive and responsive, and the amount of aftercare you received when you finally wrapped up the night made the whole night absolutely heavenly.
“So _____,” Yanan leans over the island, pushing a bowl of fruit your way. “I meant to ask last night, but you’re old enough to come out with us to Andy’s next time, right?”
You frown slightly. “Not quite. I just turned twenty, so I technically have another year. Although I do have a fake ID that works just fine as long as there’s no one there to call me out on it.”
He scoffs, clearly remembering the run-in with Professor Yang that ruined the night last time you went out with them. “Yeah, Hongseok really knows how to ruin a good time, doesn’t he?”
“Why do you insist on calling him by his first name?” It catches you off guard every time, especially because the professor has been so explicit about his preferences when it comes to the way students address him. You’re willing to bet that, based on the way he and Yanan interacted and the fact that Yanan uses his first name, they must know each other outside of school. “Do you have something against him?”
Yanan takes a long sip of his coffee before responding. “Perhaps I do. But I’ll tell you this, he sure as hell started it.”
You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Changgu pipes up as he transfers the eggs to a plate. “That’s a pretty big can of worms you’re trying to open.”
“Well you can’t just say something like that and expect me not to be curious! Now I need to know.”
Yanan pulls up a stool. “I went to a different school for a year and a half before transferring here. Washington University.”
You immediately recognize the university as being the most prestigious school in the city. It’s stupid expensive, and it’s really hard to get in. “You went to Washington?”
He nods. “And so did Hongseok. I met him there while he was getting his Masters degree. We both worked in the Mathematics Department office.” Yanan bites down onto a strawberry. “We got along okay, but I wouldn’t say we were ever friends. Our work schedules occasionally overlapped and we were cordial with each other. But one day he heard me bragging to a friend about how I’d slept with my Economics professor to boost my grade. Business school wasn’t for me, so I did what I could to make it a little easier.”
Your eyes widen and you’re struck with something that feels kind of like… panic? “You slept with your professor?”
“I did,” he responds proudly. “And then Hongseok turned me in to the Dean. She got fired and I lost all of my scholarship money, so I transferred. What are the odds that he’d end up over here too?” He chuckles darkly.
Yanan interrupts your train of thought. “I think he was just pissed because he worked so hard and he didn’t think it was fair that I was trying to take the easy way out. To that, I say that nothing in life is fair and he needs to get over himself.”
You try to seem as natural as possible despite the slight discomfort seeping into your bones. “Oh man, I can’t believe you had to transfer because of all that. That basically changed your whole future, right?”
“It did, but I’m not terribly torn up about it.” Yanan dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand. “I had fun with my professor, but I’ve enjoyed my time at this school more than I ever did at Washington. It might be less prestigious, and I might be getting a music degree instead of a business degree, but I didn’t ever have much interest in business anyway.”
You nod slowly, at least glad to hear that Yanan’s doing okay. “You still seem to have a bit of a grudge towards Professor Yang, though.”
“That I do. Not just because he turned me in, though. I don’t particularly like the way he looks down on me all the time. He’s got a real ego problem.”
“You’ve got that right,” you murmur, thinking about the way Professor Yang first confronted you at the beginning of the year, how he assumed you must have been obsessively crushing on him to the point of intentionally seducing him at the wedding. He does seem to be quite a bit self-absorbed.
Changgu speaks up. “What about you, _____? It seemed like you and Professor Yang were pretty familiar with each other.”
And just like that, your ease gives way to mild anxiety. “Oh, I’m just in his class.” You try to brush it off.
Changgu nods, but you’re not really sure that he believes you. He serves you your eggs. “You know, I followed the two of you outside when he insisted on sending you home. Things between you seemed… heated.”
“Mm,” you hum, letting yourself take a bite of your eggs as you scramble to come up with an excuse. “It was just all of the adrenaline from the surprise performance I had to give, you know. And it’s easy to just return his fire with fire, especially because, you know, he’s messed up my grades a few times and I’ve had to have multiple talks with him about that, so like, there’s just tension, you know, but it’s not really a big deal or anything...” Like an idiot you ramble and over-share, just like you always do when you’re put on the spot.
“I see.” Changgu raises an eyebrow.
Yanan’s brow furrows as he tries to comprehend the beans you just spilled. “You’re telling me that Hongseok, the mathematical genius, messed up your grades?”
“Yeah, it’s so stupid, right? I don’t know what his deal is.” You force out an awkward laugh and follow it with a lie to try to soften the damage you’ve done. “It happened with my friend, too... I think he must just get distracted while he’s grading or something. Who knows?”
Yanan seems unwilling to let it go as he presses, “He boosts your grades?”
You nod, completely incapable of thinking through actions or words before letting them happen. “Ah, yeah. But it’s kind of a mix, I guess.”
And then the shittiest grin comes to Yanan’s lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t tell me he’s got a thing for you.”
It’s such an easy conclusion to come to, and you led him right to it. Now you’re totally frozen and unsure of how to respond. How are you supposed to answer that?
Changgu comes to your rescue, placing a hand on Yanan’s shoulder as he speaks. “Even if he does, it’s not her fault, and she doesn’t seem particularly comfortable with all of this, so why don’t we let it go? It’s all speculation, anyway.”
“Of course.” Yanan nods curtly, and an uncomfortable silence falls between the three of you.
The irony of this whole situation is not lost on you. If anything happens between you and Professor Yang, he’d be nothing less than a hypocrite now that you know he got Yanan in trouble for the same behavior. And if Yanan were to ever hear about it, you’re not confident that any interest he has in you would overshadow the opportunity for revenge. You’re just collateral damage in his feud with Professor Yang. 
Getting close to these boys might be more dangerous than you originally thought. 
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Monday night rolls around, and you know you should be getting ready to head out for R&B ensemble… but instead you just anxiously pace through your living room, completely unsure if you can work up the courage to see Kino tonight.
You haven’t said a word to each other since your birthday party. He hasn’t even texted to indicate he wanted to walk with you to practice tonight, and you can’t say you blame him. You were kind of a huge dick to him after you kissed. You weren’t really in a good frame of mind to actually talk it through with him at the party, but the longer you wait to talk to him, the less of an excuse you have. You’re completely sober now, and you were yesterday, too. He’s one of your best friends - there’s no reason why you can’t talk to him about this. 
Really you know it’s because, no matter how close you are with him, you’re absolutely terrified about how badly the conversation could go.
You care about Kino so much. You honest-to-God love the kid. But do you care about him romantically? 
You pull your phone out and write out a quick text to Wooseok: Not feeling well, so I’m going to rest tonight. Can you tell teach I’m going to miss practice?
You just can’t work up the nerve to go in tonight.
Wooseok responds: No prob. U need anything?
You: No I’m ok, thank you though.
Wooseok: K. Rest up, short stuff.
Dropping your phone onto the couch, you resort to just jumping up and down because you’re so full of nervous energy. You don’t even want to start thinking about everything that’s transpired between you and Wooseok on top of your situation with Kino. He also hasn’t said much to you since the party, and you can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that you ditched your own party to bang Yanan and Changgu.
That shouldn’t have bothered him since you agreed to only be friends, and it’s definitely not a decision you regret making. That night with the two seniors was incredible, even if the morning after took a turn for the worse.
Inevitably, your mind returns to Kino. You let out a low groan and burst into the bedroom where Nailah has been studying.
“Nailahhhhh,” you groan. “I don’t know what to do.”
Nailah holds up a finger and continues reading, and you just stand there jittering in silence while you wait for her to finish. After a solid thirty seconds that feels like five minutes, she snaps her textbook shut and looks up at you. “What’s wrong, boo?” 
“I have to talk to Kino but I don’t want to.”
“About what? The fact that you guys made out?”
You bite your lip and nod. “I haven’t talked to him since the party and I feel awful about it and I know that we need to just have a conversation but I’m terrified about what’ll happen and I honestly don’t even know how I feel?” Words come out of you stupidly fast as you try to express everything that you’re feeling.
She checks her phone, presumably to see what time it is. “Don’t you usually have a class tonight?”
“R&B Ensemble. I’m skipping. Not ready to see Kino yet.”
Nailah gives you a once-over, gets up from her bed, and starts digging through her dresser drawers. “You’ve got too much energy. Let’s go to the gym and work this out.”
“The gym?” Your mind briefly flashes back to the last time you went to the gym with her and you crossed paths with Professor Yang. That’s… potentially less of a problem right now. Hell, seeing Professor Yang working out would probably be a welcome distraction from everything with Kino. So what if he’s there? Besides, Nailah’s right - it would be nice to do something with all of this energy you’ve got right now. “Okay, yeah. Good idea.”
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Nailah sits you down at the bicep curl machine and she squats in front of you while you try to do a few reps. “So talk to me about what happened. I know what I saw, but I want to hear it from you.”
You let out a strained exhale as you pull the handles up towards your chest. “I went out for some air, and Kino came out, and we were dancing to the music and I told him I love him.”
“What?” Her eyes widen.
“I do, though!” You pull up again. “Like the same way I love you, you know? And I think he took it to be something romantic, and then he kissed me. And I kissed him back.”
“Did you like it?”
Pull. “I did. He’s a good kisser.”
“But you’re conflicted.”
“Yeah.” Pull. “Because I don’t know if I like him that way. And I think he might like me that way. And what if I decide that I don’t like him that way, and then it ruins our friendship?”
“Is there a chance you might like him that way?”
You drop the handles. Is there? You think about all of the times you’ve hung out in practice rooms, all of the notes you send each other during class. And then you think about the dance showcase, the feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours, the press of his lips as he kissed your forehead that night. It’s undeniable that your heart beats a little faster as you think about him. “Shit. Maybe?”
“Okay.” Nailah nods. “Maybe isn’t a great answer.”
“I know,” you grumble. “That doesn’t give me any kind of clarity.”
“So just imagine that you talk to him about the kiss, and he tells you he likes you and he might even be interested in dating. How does that make you feel?” Nailah asks, and then she gestures to the machine to encourage you to keep going.
You pull up again. “I feel overwhelmed.”
“Now imagine that instead, he says that he was confused and he didn’t really mean it. He wants to stay friends. How does that make you feel?”
“...less overwhelmed.”
“That says a lot, doesn’t it?”
“But what if I’m only overwhelmed because it’s different, not because I dislike it?” Pull harder. “What if I’m less overwhelmed by staying friends just because that’s what I’m used to?”
“Well that’s something you’re going to have to examine. I don’t have the answer to that.” Nailah stands, crossing her arms over her chest.
You huff loudly, letting go of the bar again. “Why is this so difficult?”
“Are you telling me that you’re surprised that you don’t know what you want? Sweetie, indecision is your middle name,” she teases. “You made out with Kino and then slept with two other guys all in the same night. And don’t even get me started on whatever the hell is going on between you and that Wooseok kid.”
You feel your cheeks grow warm from embarrassment. “What do you mean? Why are you bringing up Wooseok?”
“I’m not dumb, _____. You’ve obviously got something going on with him. So ‘fess up.”
“Can I switch machines first?”
Nailah stands and gestures for you to come along. You sit side by side at two leg press machines, and you try not to feel intimidated by the amount of weight she sets on her machine. Once you’re both settled in, she looks over at you expectantly.
“So…” You try to figure out where to start, and then you decide you just need to dish the whole story. Besides, he’s already told Yuto about all of it, so you should get to have a confidante, too. “I offered to tutor him in music theory because he was struggling, and it was totally fine. Then one night he invited me over to his place when I was feeling particularly… feisty… and we got drunk and made out.”
“Ah, the Queen of Bad Decisions strikes again.” Nailah chuckles. “Continue.”
Her comment makes you roll your eyes, but it feels good that she’s so lighthearted about it. “So then we talked about it later and decided that we both would be okay with, like, occasionally hooking up in a totally casual way.”
She nods slowly. “You know, if I remember correctly, I believe I actually suggested you try hooking up with him, didn’t I?”
“Sure did,” you acknowledge with a flat tone, remembering the lunchtime conversation you had that feels like forever ago.
“And how long has this been going on?”
“Maybe like… a month and a half?”
“Okay, okay.” Nailah just keeps nodding. “Obviously I approve, but it’s also important that you feel comfortable with your choices and you’ve got a lot going on right now.”
It feels good to get all of this off of your chest. So good, in fact, that you contemplate filling her in on everything regarding Yanan and Professor Yang as well. But at this point nothing is happening between you and him, so there’s really no reason to talk about it. “You’re right. There’s just… a lot to think about.”
“Maybe Thanksgiving break will be good for you. You can head home, spend some time with your family, and avoid all of these boys for a long weekend. That might give you the time you need to clear your head and figure out what you want.” She pushes the machine with her legs, thigh muscles impressively bulging.
“Yeah. That’ll be nice.” You really are looking forward to heading home in a few days. It’ll be so nice to see Minseo again and get a break from all of the drama you’ve managed to create for yourself. “Can we be done here, now? You know I can’t match your stamina.”
Nailah laughs and gives one last push. “Sure, sweetie. Let’s head home.”
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Even though working out with Nailah and talking it over with her helps you feel a little more at ease, it still doesn’t prepare you for the phone call you receive when you’re back at the apartment. 
Your phone lights up as it vibrates, the name City Boy pulling up on the screen.
“Nailah, he’s calling me.” You panic.
“Well answer it.” Nailah encourages you. “Now’s as good a time as any to talk it out.”
You almost let it go to voicemail, but at the last second you swipe to answer. Awkwardly, you say, “Heyyy! Kino, hey. What’s up?”
“Hey, _____.” He sounds incredibly mellow. “Are you feeling alright? Wooseok said you’re sick.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… just had a headache, that’s all.” You rub your forehead as you try to figure out what to tell him, and you duck into the bedroom to have a private conversation. “Thanks for checking in on me, though.”
“Of course.” Pause. “Um, so you’re probably home right now, right?”
“Mhm. Just resting,” you lie.
“Flash your light for me. I’m in my room, too.”
You do as he asks, and then you sit on the floor by your floor-to-ceiling window and look for his signal. Once you spot his room, you say, “Found you.”
Kino waves gently up at you, and you wave back. Then he clears his throat and runs his hand through his hair. “So I guess the reason I actually called is because I kind of had the feeling you might be avoiding me, and I know it’s not even a big deal because it’s only been, like, two days that we haven’t talked, and it’s totally understandable that you might want some space, but I just felt so bad that you didn’t come to rehearsal tonight and I don’t want you to avoid things you love because of me.”
You wait until he gets it all off of his chest, sitting quietly while you try to figure out how to respond. 
“I’m really sorry, _____. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that when we were both kind of out of it. And now I’m just terrified that I messed up so badly that I’m going to lose you completely, and I can’t stand the thought of it.”
“Kino…” 
“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”
You can hear the reservation in his voice. This is terrifying territory for both of you. You take a deep breath and respond as honestly as you can. “I don’t know. I care about you a lot, but I’m not sure yet if any of it is romantic.” He doesn’t respond right away, so you ask, “What about you? Do you have feelings for me?”
Kino sighs quietly. “Actually, I don’t know, either. I might. But if that’s not what you want, I can absolutely squash that so we can keep being friends. That’s the most important thing to me.”
You sit quietly for a moment. “I think I need time. I’ve just never really thought about you that way, but then after you kissed me… I don’t know. I’m really sorry that I’m so confused by all of this. I really wish I could give you a straight answer.”
“It’s okay.” Kino’s voice is warm. “You don’t have to push yourself in one direction or the other. We can just sit on it for a little bit, and maybe talk about it after break once you’ve had some time to think?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” you respond softly, grateful that he’s not pushing you for an answer one way or the other.
“But I guess one thing I’d like to know now is, are we still friends?” 
“Yes! Of course we are,” you respond without hesitation. “No matter what we decide, we’ll stay friends at the very least.”
“Okay good.” He smiles up at you from his window. “You’re going home for break, right?”
“Mhm, I’m taking the train out on Wednesday night,” you say. “What about you? Are you visiting your family?”
“Yeah. I don’t really want to, though.”
Based on past conversations with Kino, and the emotional performance he choreographed for the showcase, you’ve pieced together how he doesn’t have a great relationship with his parents. But you’ve never gotten the full story. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Kino sighs. “It’s just hard to be around my parents. My mom is emotionally abusive and my dad doesn’t do anything to stop it. If I were an only child, there’s no way in hell I’d go back there for Thanksgiving. But I miss my sisters and I need to make sure they’re doing alright.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that. I think your sisters are really lucky to have a brother like you.”
“Thanks. I feel guilty enough that I even went to college in the first place, and I know I don’t visit home as often as I should. It was easier for me to protect my siblings when I still lived there, but I was also at my wit’s end. I can’t tell you how much better I’ve felt since starting college, as long as you don’t count the guilt of abandoning my siblings.”
“You have to look out for yourself, too, though. If you had stayed home and taken all the blows, what kind of life would you be making for yourself? If your sisters are anything like you, then I know they’re kind-hearted and strong, and they’ll make it out of the house too when it’s their turn.”
Kino sniffs, and you wonder if he’s crying. He’s just far enough away that it’s hard to tell. “You’re right.”
“You should invite your sisters to hang out with us sometime. We could all go do karaoke together or something.”
“I’m sure they’d love that! That would be really fun.” Kino sounds a little lighter now. “Thanks, _____. I’ve been so stressed about my family situation since I know I’m going home this week, and talking to you really helps me feel better.”
“Of course! What are friends for?”
“I need to get going, but there was actually one more thing I wanted to ask you about.”
“Go for it.”
“Can you be honest with me about Wooseok? You two just got so close so fast, and it’s not like that’s a problem or anything, but… do you like him? Are you two a thing? Because I’ve been suspicious for a while and I think knowing if there’s something going on between you two will help me figure out what I’m feeling.”
Your heart drops into your stomach. Why are you so afraid to be honest with him about it? At this point you’ve denied it quite a few times around him, and it sounds like he doesn’t fully believe you. So you really have no choice but to tell him the truth. 
He continues. “Do you remember the night you got drunk with him and then crashed at my place? You told me about what you two did, and I just… I want to know if it happened again.”
You swallow hard, and then spit it out. “We’re just friends, but we’ve slept together a few times.”
“Ah.” Kino sounds disappointed. “And you don’t have any feelings for him?”
“I don’t.” You adamantly respond, but even as you say the words you’re not positive they’re the truth. So you say, “I mean, I don’t think I do.”
“Got it. Well thank you for telling me. I have to get going though, so I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
You’re surprised by how abruptly he excuses himself from the conversation, but you don’t really feel like you’re in a place to ask him to stay. “Okay. Talk to you later.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye, and you can tell that must have hurt him. You had no choice but to be honest, because it’s time you start facing your messes - even if it creates new ones in the process. But as you flop back onto your bed, you realize that Kino’s response speaks volumes about how he actually feels about you.
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Anxious, you check the time on your phone again. Shinhye should be here by now, but she’s nowhere to be seen. It’s just you at the bus stop. You decide to call her just to make sure she’s actually coming.
She answers on the third ring. “Hey, _____…”
“Shinhye, are you coming? We’re going to be so late to Professor Yang’s exhibit.” You bounce on the balls of your feet as if that will help keep you warm.
“I don’t think I can make it, actually, I think I’m coming down with something. I just really don’t feel well.”
“Oh no! I’m sorry,” you pout. “That sucks. Well get lots of rest then, okay?”
“I will.” Shinhye sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I just, like, took a nap and I thought that I set an alarm, but apparently I didn’t.”
“It’s totally okay. I’ll see if someone else can go with me. You just get better.”
“I’ll do my best,” she chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you later.”
“See you.”
You hang up and frown. You were really hoping she’d come with you today. Professor Yang had announced in class this morning that he’s got an exhibit tonight, and anyone who attended would get extra credit for the class. You’re genuinely interested in seeing more of the instruments he’s made, so you’re excited to go. You just don’t know if you want to go alone.
You could call Kino, since he’s usually your go-to guy whenever you need a companion, but you still feel weird about the way the conversation ended last night. It would probably be awkward for the two of you to make the trip together.
And there’s Wooseok… Maybe you should give him a ring. Things have also been a little off with him since the party, but it feels easier to ignore that weirdness than the tension between you and Kino. You go ahead and give him a call.
“_____! Heyyyy,” Wooseok drawls. “I miss you.”
“You miss me?” You laugh quietly, immediately recognizing the boozed-up drawl of his voice. “Or are you just drunk?”
He gasps. “How did you know?”
“Wooseok, it’s a Tuesday night. What are you doing getting hammered?”
“My morning class tomorrow got canceled because of TURKEY DAY WOOOOOOOO- OH SHIT-”
You hear a crash of glass, and your eyes widen. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, totallyyyy- totally fine. It’s fine. I just dropped my cup, but it’s fine. I was talking to you so I got distracted.”
“Is Minho there?”
“No, he went home already. Can you come over? I wanna see you.”
“I can’t right now, I have somewhere to be. But if you put the alcohol away and just drink water for the rest of the night, I think I can come over later.”
“Yes, ma’am. Gotta drink that water. I can do that.” 
“Good,” you laugh. “Be careful, okay? And don’t try to pick up the broken glass with your hands. Just sweep it off to the side and we’ll clean it up later.”
“Why do you sound like my mom?” 
“Because that’s what you need right now,” you laugh. “I’ll text you later, okay?”
“Okay. You’re great. Bye.”
You hang up. That was a bust. After a few minutes you still can’t think of anyone else you’d want to invite. But then the bus arrives and you decide that you’d rather just be on your way than try to find another person to come with.
It’s a long ride, and you’re later than you wanted to be. By the time you arrive, you pass a few other students from your class on their way out. Actually, the whole place looks pretty empty. Did you miss it?
The door is unlocked, so you let yourself in, the little bells on the handle jingling to signal your arrival. In a matter of seconds, Professor Yang’s head pops out from around a corner.
“Hey, we’re actually clo… oh, hi.” When he sees you, his eyes widen a little, made all the more obvious by the round frames that sit atop his nose. You've never seen him in glasses before, and it's a good look for him. But he could pull off literally anything, so you’re not surprised.
Still, you frown, feeling like you really wasted your time hauling ass the whole way up to the north side just to arrive as soon as it's ending. You should have just gotten on the earlier bus instead of waiting for Shinhye. “Shit, I knew I was running late, but I didn’t think I was going to miss the whole thing.”
Professor Yang steps out into the exhibit room, pulling back the sleeves of his deep blue sweater. “It’s okay, I’m not going to kick you out.” 
“It sounded like you were about to,” you joke, trying to make light of the situation.
“Yeah, but you’re…” Professor Yang looks for a brief moment like he’s having difficulty deciding how to qualify you. “...my student.”
“I am,” you respond awkwardly. “Um, I know you were going to give us extra credit for being here, but you don’t have to do that since it's clearly over.”
He glances at the watch on his wrist. “If you let me show you around and tell you about some of the instruments for, like, fifteen minutes, I can give you credit.”
“That sounds good to me." You smile, but unfortunately your stupid ass can't just leave it there. You tack on, "Teach me, Professor.” And you laugh awkwardly, immediately regretting everything.
He chuckles, possibly out of politeness, and leads you to the first guitar on display. “You’re already familiar with this one. She’s the one I keep in my office.”
“I remember,” you admire the gorgeous instrument as you slip your coat off, already getting warm now that you're indoors. “She’s the reason why I was so excited to see what else you’ve built.”
“She’s one of my best, so don’t be too disappointed in the others,” he laughs.
As he walks through the exhibit with you, he speaks in detail about each of his creations. He explains to you how he decides what type of wood to work with, and his process for cutting and shaping the instruments. His collection is mostly guitars - some twelve-strings and classical guitars included - as well as ukuleles and mandolins. Although he suggested he’d only take up fifteen minutes of your time, he speaks with you about his instruments for well over an hour, and you soak up all of the information he’s willing to share with you. 
During your tour, you notice more than a few empty instrument stands. “Why are some missing?”
“I sold them,” he explains. “Part of the purpose of this exhibit was to sell some of the instruments I’ve built, and the other part was to get commissions. I was successful in both parts.”
“That’s amazing! Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” He beams. “I’m eager to start working on the new projects.”
“Where do you do your building? Do you have all the tools at home?”
He shakes his head. “Definitely not. I rent a workshop space. Or if I’m able, I’ll try to do some work in the shop we use for class.” With another glance at his watch, he takes a deep breath. “Anyway, I’m sorry for talking your ear off. It’s getting late so I should really start getting packed up.”
“Oh, it’s like over over?”
“Yeah, tonight was the last of two nights. So I have to clean up, close up, and get the keys back to the shop owner first thing tomorrow morning.”
Without thinking, you offer, “I can help."
“Nonsense. I won’t make you do that.”
“You have a lot of instruments, it’ll be a lot faster if you just let me help. I don’t mind it. Honestly.”
He surveys you, angling his body directly at you for the first time all night - not that you're hyper-aware of his body language or anything. “Alright. Let’s go get the cases.”
You bring the custom-made soft cases from the back out into the exhibit space. He has them organized well, so it’s easy to find which instruments belong in which cases. In no time, you’ve got them all cased up and ready to go.
Carrying a few instruments at a time, you walk with him through the back door to the small parking lot - only three spaces available behind the building. He walks up to the dinkiest little Nissan and manually unlocks the front door, pulling a lever on the floor to pop open the trunk.
“Wow,” you can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t expect you to drive such an old-looking car.”
“Yeah, I’ve had this thing for forever. I have other more important things to put my money towards.” He lifts one of the guitars he holds, making it clear that his luthier hobby preoccupies most of his funds. 
Together, you make a few trips to grab all of the instruments and load up his car, carefully placing each instrument into the trunk and back seat. Once he’s packed, you check your phone for the next bus time. The next bus isn’t for half an hour, and you frown. The damn thing is always running late anyway, so you know it’ll take much longer than thirty minutes.
“How are you getting home?” He asks, as if reading your mind.
“The bus. It’s not too far from here. I should probably head out, actually. Don’t want to miss it.” Even though you know the bus won’t show up for a while, you intentionally excuse yourself with a lie. It’s best that you just head on out.
Professor Yang checks his trusty watch yet again. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Your eyes widen. That’s the complete opposite of what should happen right now. “No, no, it’s okay. I don’t want to inconvenience you. I take the bus all the time and it’s really not a big deal. Plus it drops off right across from my dorm so it’s actually really convenient for me.”
He shakes his head, unwilling to accept it. “It’s late, it’s cold out, and this isn’t a great neighborhood. Even if it were warmer out, I still couldn’t let you stand around out here by yourself.”
You’re hesitant to accept, although a car ride does sound pretty nice. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
He nods confidently. “You’ve shown that you can be mature about our relationship, so I think this is something we can both comfortably handle.”
It’s a weird compliment, but you’ll take it. You really have been trying hard to just let things be normal between the two of you, and it seems to be going okay. And then you have an idea - as in an attempt to prove just how normal everything is, you ask him, “Do you need extra hands to help unload at your place? You’ll have to make a million trips by yourself. Since we’re... okay with each other and everything, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
He takes a moment to think. “I suppose it would be helpful.”
“Cool. We’ll just unload and then I can probably catch a bus from there. Maybe a taxi if you’re close enough to downtown that it won’t cost me a fortune.” 
“I can still drive you the rest of the way,” he insists.
“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be weird if other students at the dorm saw me getting out of your car? They might get the wrong idea.”
“I’ll drop you off a block away, then.”
“Fine,” you concede. Somehow it feels like you’ve won. Profesor Yang didn’t seem to think it was possible that the two of you could look past the one night you spent together and just get along normally, yet here you are making totally regular plans to just be in each others’ presence with absolutely no tension or weirdness whatsoever. That’s a success in your book.
You hop in on the passenger’s side. The inside of the car looks about as nice as the outside, and you suppress your giggle. It shouldn’t be so funny to you that an all-business guy like Professor Yang could still drive some piece of junk car. It’s kind of endearing that he’s so… normal. 
And then he gets in, turns on the car, and does the fucking dad thing - the thing where he puts the car in reverse, places a hand on the back of your seat, and completely fucking twists around to look out the back instead of just using the mirrors.
“Oh my God,” you can’t control your laughter.
Professor Yang throws a weird look your way as he backs out of the parking space. “What are you laughing at?”
“You really are an old man. You know, they give you mirrors for a reason. You should be careful twisting your back like that, you’re going to pull something in your old age, what with that frail, old-man body you’ve got.” You snicker, mimicking an elderly person with lower back pain.
“What are you talking about?” His eyes widen and he brakes, his hand still on your seat as he faces you. “First of all, I’m not even thirty yet, so cut it out. And I’m not going to address what you just said about my body because we both know that’s not even close to the truth.”
You ignore the fact that he very clearly, possibly intentionally, just reminded you that you quite intimately know what his body is like. You ignore the fact that the way he’s posed is actually really hot because of how his jacket hangs open and his sweater pulls tightly across his muscled chest. You ignore the fact that it would be so easy for him to lean over the console and kiss you. 
You swallow hard. There are a million red flags, but you ignore them all. Remember that he’s completely over you.
“Okay but you did just address it by saying that,” you say, trying to sound unaffected.
“Come on, I can’t just let you talk about me that way. It’s a lot of work to stay this fit and here you are calling me frail and old like you’re not-” He bites his tongue. 
“Like I’m not what?” Into it? Attracted? Drooling about it every time you picture him shirtless?
“I was going to say, ‘like you’re not walking around in a twelve-year-old’s body,’ but then I decided that would just be mean.” 
Your face heats up. You really shouldn’t be talking about bodies with him right now. Not when he just said that the two of you are mature enough to just be normal with each other. It’s so tempting to remind him how not prepubescent your body is, but you finally use some good judgment and decide to watch your words. “It’s just as mean as me calling you old, so it’s only fair.”
“I guess so.” Professor Yang laughs quietly, and then he falls silent. Maybe he’s fighting the same battle as you, trying not to picture you under him. Or maybe he actually has his shit together and this isn’t an issue for him. 
For once, he finally trusts you to be normal around him. You can’t blow it.
As you drive through the city, you tune into the rock music coming from his stereo. And the music selection is so ironic it fucking hurts.
“Don't want to be no uptown fool Maybe I should go to hell, but I'm doin' well, Teacher needs to see me after school...
“I think of all the education that I missed But then my homework was never quite like this Ow got it bad, got it bad, got it bad, I'm hot for teacher I got it bad, so bad, I'm hot for teacher...”
You just sit there in wide-eyed terror as Van Halen streams from the speakers, and it takes Professor Yang a minute too long to realize what’s playing. He sucks in a quick breath when he notices, and scrambles to change the station. 
He settles on another rock station that’s currently playing Def Leppard, and you try to make light of the situation. “Do you only have rock stations programmed on here?”
Professor Yang clears his throat and tries to relax back in his seat, casually gripping the bottom of the steering wheel with one hand. “I just have a favorite genre, don’t act like you’re any different. I’m sure I could probably guess what you’re listening to.”
“Go ahead, then.” You laugh. “What do you think is the last song I played on my phone?”
His lips press into a line as he thinks. “Okay, this is somewhat of an educated guess. I’m going to go with “Superstitious” by Stevie Wonder.”
“Solid choice, but that’s not it.” You don’t actually remember what you were listening to earlier, but you know it wasn’t Stevie Wonder. 
“Plug your phone in, then. Let’s hear it.” He fishes out the aux cord, holding it out to you. 
“Oh man,” you laugh as you pull out your phone. “You’re really gonna slam me if I’ve got something stupid pulled up.”
“That’s the point. I’m testing your taste.”
It feels like he’s in exceptionally high spirits tonight. Maybe it’s because the exhibit went so well. Whatever the case, it helps you feel lighter. You plug in the phone and open your music - and luckily you’ve got a damn good song ready to go.
“You know The Emotions?” You ask him.
“Sounds familiar.”
You press play, and “Best of My Love” picks up somewhere in the middle.
“Oh, I think I know this song!” He pipes up. “Wow, I haven’t heard this in forever.”
“It’s so good! One of my favorites, actually.” 
“Demonstrating free love and affection That you give so openly The way I feel about you, baby, can't explain it Want the whole wide world to see Oh, woah You’ve got the best of my love...”
You force yourself to avoid looking over at him as you listen to the lyrics, realizing just how terrible this song choice actually is given the history between the two of you. But still, it’s a little less applicable than Van Halen, so you leave it on. You just remind yourself yet again that you’re over him, and he’s over you. Whatever’s going on between you now is totally, completely normal and regular and fine.
As you both quietly listen to your music, you wonder what’s going on in Professor Yang’s head. Eventually he speaks up, and it’s a completely different topic.
“I’m excited to see how your dulcimer turns out,” he says simply.
“Me too. I feel pretty good about it.”
“I’m impressed with what you’ve done so far. I think it’ll sound quite nice once it’s finished.” He makes a right turn, sparing a glance your way. “The true test will be part of your final.”
“What do you mean?”
“For the last day of class, you’ll have to write and perform a minute-long piece on your instrument.”
You squint skeptically “Don’t you think you’re giving me a bit of an advantage by telling me that now?”
“Do you know how to play a dulcimer?”
“No.”
“Do you have access to one that you could practice on?”
“No.”
“Then no, I don’t think you’re getting an advantage. I’m going to tell everyone else about the assignment next week. They’ll all have just as much time to prepare as you.”
You suppose that makes sense and he isn’t actually giving you any kind of benefit, but you can’t help thinking of all of the bogus grade adjustments you’ve had to confront him about. It sits with you weirdly, and you struggle to decide whether you should say anything about it.
Eventually you reach your destination. He lives in a cute little neighborhood on the north side in one of those little houses that has been converted into apartments. There aren’t any open parking spots on the street in front of his place, but he manages to find a spot on the next block. 
As he parallel parks, he turns around in his seat again to look out the back. And this time when he twists, he hisses and grabs his back like he’s in pain. “Ah, so old…”
It’s incredibly obvious that he’s faking because he’s a terrible actor, and you laugh. “This is why we have mirrors.”
He laughs with you and finishes pulling into the space. You both hop out and grab a few instruments from the back, and you let him lead the way down the sidewalk.
Professor Yang pauses at the door while he fishes for the right key. “I should warn you, I have a cat. Are you allergic?”
“Nope,” you smile. “I love cats!”
“He can be a little shy so he might not say hello.” He opens the main door and holds it open for you to step inside. You’re confronted with two more doors - one straight ahead and one to the right. He slips past you to unlock the one in front of you. He flips the light switch, illuminating the full length of the wooden staircase that heads directly up into his apartment. “Sorry to make you go up and down so many stairs. If you want, you can just stay down here and I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoff. “I’m here to help. I’m not just going to stand around and watch.” You confidently cross the threshold into his apartment, taking the literal first step into his personal life. You feel kind of nervous about coming inside, but you suck it up. This is only a big deal if you make it one, and you refuse to do that.
The stairs drop you off at a hallway that stretches off to your left, and an open kitchen and living room area is off to the right. You can’t see too much of it because the lights over there are still turned off, but you can see the tall window-doors that lead to the balcony outside.
“You can drop them off in the living room. Don’t worry about taking shoes off since we’re just heading back out again anyway.” He comes up behind you and flips another light, illuminating the living room and kitchen.
You do as he instructs, placing the instruments against the wall in the living room. The room is minimally decorated with a nice couch, a single armchair, and two large bookcases filled to the brim with books - save for the one shelf that is packed with vinyl records. It doesn’t surprise you to see so many books and records - he seems like he’s very well-read, and he’s enough of a music lover that of course he’d enjoy listening to records.
As much as you want to check out his collection, you know that you shouldn’t explore his apartment. You’re here to unload his instruments. That’s it.
You force yourself to turn away from the bookshelves and vaguely gesture towards the stairs. “Shall we?”
It takes a few trips, but eventually you get all of the instruments inside. All the while you’re incredibly aware of how close he is when he holds the doors open for you, or how damn cute the back of his head is when you’re following him down the stairs. You hate it - how can the back of a head be cute?
Over and over, you remind yourself: I’m over him. I’m over him.
You set down the last guitar with a small sigh. “I can’t imagine you having to do all of this by yourself. I’m glad I came to help.”
“I could have handled it, but thank you for your assistance.” Professor Yang steps into the kitchen. “Do you need anything to drink before I take you home?”
“Oh, no, thank you.” You shake your head, not wanting to impose. “Um, but can I use your restroom?”
“Sure. It’s the second door down the hall.” He gestures around the corner.
You follow his directions. When you’re finished peeing and washing your hands, you notice a pretty blue cologne bottle sitting on his counter. You pick it up and sniff it. Sure enough, it’s exactly the cologne you remember smelling on him. It’s absolutely delicious, and against your better judgment, you spritz it once on the inside of your jacket, zipping it up to lock in the scent and hopefully keep him from noticing the weird-as-fuck thing you just did.
When you come out of the bathroom, you head back towards the kitchen, but just then he comes out of his bedroom, startling you and nearly bumping into you.
“Oh!” You shout as you jump backwards, laughing. “Sorry.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
“It’s okay.” You brush it off.
He sniffs the air, and that’s when you know you fucked up. “Did you spray my cologne?”
You bite your lip, knowing there’s no point in lying. “I did.” He looks at you questioningly, so you fill in the gaps. “It just smells really good. I’m sorry.”
Professor Yang just watches you, and you’re fully aware of what a terrible idea it was to spray his cologne. And also what a terrible idea it was for you to even step foot into his apartment, let alone get in a car with him.
The rapid beating of your heart tells you that you’re still not over him. You don’t want to be over him.
What are you doing here? Why did you let yourself get to this point? 
You need to leave. You need to turn around and get yourself out of this mess. But for some reason, you’re completely captivated by his gaze, frozen in place and entirely unable to save yourself from the impending disaster.
It’s been far too long since he’s said anything, and you’re dying to know what’s going on in his head. “What are you thinking right now?”
Too honestly, he responds, “It’s a bad idea for me to answer that question.”
“That answer makes it so much worse. What am I supposed to assume you’re thinking when you say that?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t assume anything.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you just answer my question.”
He huffs. “I’m thinking that you shouldn’t have come here. That you’re only twenty. That I can’t trust myself to…”
“Hm?” You hum, encouraging him to finish his sentence.
“I can’t trust myself to make good choices around you.”
Your heart beats wildly in your chest. Is he struggling just as much as you? Is he feeling the same pull of temptation, knowing that you’re all alone in his apartment, literally steps away from his bedroom? You have to be careful about what you say. “You’ve been doing a great job so far.”
“Why are you here?”
It’s obvious that he’s questioning your intentions, just like he did the first time he realized you were in his class. “I swear I just came to help with your instruments. I’m not trying to be sneaky.”
“Right.” Professor Yang’s lips press into a tight line, and you’re dying to know what’s going on inside his head.
It feels like he’s faltering. Like he’s holding your gaze for too long, keeping you in this apartment longer than you should be. You can’t help but feel responsible for getting yourself out of this before you both make a mistake.
But… part of you doesn’t want to stop this moment, doesn’t want to break free from whatever trap you’re falling into. 
“I don’t know what to do.” You don’t think carefully enough about your words. “It feels like… we’re already keeping a secret. One more won’t make a difference.”
“You know damn well that the secret isn’t the issue. You’re my student. That’s the issue. It’s morally wrong.” Even as he speaks, you can feel that he doesn’t totally stand behind his words. Like he’s trying to convince himself that it would be wrong to act on whatever he’s feeling right now.
You remember everything Yanan told you about how Professor Yang has always had a rock-solid stance against teacher-student relations… But it seems like he could be questioning his own morality. If he really wants to shut this down, he could just break out of this moment and head for the car, drive you home and forget this even happened.
But he doesn’t.
It’s painfully silent between you - no one wants to make a move, no one wants to withdraw. You're desperate to just talk about all of this, but you're terrified of what could happen if you speak. You’re just stuck in this awkward limbo of not knowing what’s going to happen next.
You want so badly to reach out to him. To pull him close and feel him. You wonder what he’d be like as a lover now that you’re no longer strangers. It would be so easy for you to find out…
You take one small step towards him as a small sign that you’re open and willing, academia be damned. Professor Yang’s lips part ever so slightly as he scans your face, but he doesn’t back away.
Suddenly, there’s a noise in the kitchen, and you jump away from Professor Yang as if you’ve been caught - but it’s just his cat spilling its food all over the kitchen floor. 
Still, that cut in the tension is enough to pull you out of the moment and help you clear your head. This is bad, and you need to leave. You refuse to look at him as you mutter, “I need to go.”
The second you try to pass him to hurry down the stairs, he turns and reaches out, grabbing you by the wrist and stopping you in your tracks. The heat of his hand sears your skin.
“What are you-”
Before you can finish your question, Professor Yang pulls you into him, wraps an arm tightly around you, and presses one long, powerful kiss to your lips. 
Your whole body lights up from head to toe. It’s an adrenaline rush like no other, a hit of the drug you were hopelessly addicted to that one summer night. This is exactly what you’ve been craving - his strong arms and soft lips remind you just how badly you’ve wanted his touch.
When he breaks the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours, breathing shakily. “Why can’t I get you out of my head?” And in that moment, it’s shockingly clear to you that he’s struggling with all of this just as much as you are. 
God, you’re so done for. This man completely owns your heart. Without a doubt, you’re a complete and total sucker for him. And it’s frighteningly easy for you to own up to that, as you say the most dangerous thing you could possibly say: “You don’t have to, Hongseok.”
His jaw visibly clenches when you say his name, and his voice is strained when he finally speaks. “Tell me again that you need to leave. Tell me to drive you home right now.”
“If I don’t?” You challenge.
“Then there’s no reason why I shouldn’t keep you here.” Hongseok swallows thickly. “So tell me I should take you home.”
Your pulse is through the roof as he pulls back and your eyes lock, and you know that you’re way too impulsive to do as he asks. You’ve been pining after this man for months, and here he is, kissing you and practically admitting that he feels the same way. You can’t just go home now.
“I don’t want to go home.” You grab onto the hem of his sweater and tilt your chin upwards, inviting him to kiss you again. “I only want you.”
This feels nothing like the night you met him, when he was playful and sure of himself. It’s like you can sense all of the weight he’s carried with him over the last few months. His eyes scan over your face, and you get to see the slightest smile on his lips before he finally leans in to close the gap.
Just like that, you get everything you’ve wanted from him. Hongseok’s lips are just as plush as you remember and you completely melt into the kiss, and his rough hands cup your face. You feverishly return each kiss, grabbing fistfuls of his sweater and pulling him towards you. Your nose bumps the rim of his glasses, but you don’t mind it one bit.
Hongseok kisses you like his life depends on it. He yanks your jacket off of your shoulders, tossing it onto the ground as he backs you into his bedroom. Every time he cups your cheek or grabs your waist, you feel like you could just shatter in his hands. 
You’re finally getting your fix and you love it. 
His passion is explosive as he kisses you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in close. The strength and heat of him surprises you, as if your body has forgotten what it’s like to be with him. His lips are so soft and warm, and you’re swallowed whole by your insatiable lust for him.
You slip your hands under the hem of his sweater, desperate to feel his skin. You can feel every defined muscle as you drag your fingers across his back, and you moan quietly against his mouth when you feel his hand reach down to squeeze your ass.
Pleasure shoots through you with every small contact. His breath mingles with yours and gives you life, each kiss keeping your heart beating happily in your chest. Everything just feels so damn good. 
You both stumble towards his bed, tearing at each others’ clothes until you finally get that sweater off of him and he gets you out of your top as well. The backs of your legs bump into the edge of his bed right before he pushes you back onto the comforter. You fall onto your back, and he leans over you, his mouth latching onto your neck as his hand fiddles with the button of your jeans.
You drag your fingers through his silky hair, and you feel him suck deeply on the skin at the base of your throat. It’s just strong enough to hurt a little, and you dig your nails into his back. “Oh my God,” you moan, absolutely possessed with lust as he marks you.
Hongseok yanks off your pants, and releases you so that he can unfasten his own. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as he unclothes himself, his round glasses still perched on the bridge of his nose. He is just breathtakingly gorgeous.
There’s so much you want to ask him - was it hard for him to see you in class? Has he been thinking of you this whole semester? But you don’t ask any of those things, because you’re terrified to draw attention to your academic relationship. Sleeping with your professor is obviously the wrong choice to make, but you honestly couldn’t give a shit about any of that right now. It’s almost thrilling for you to know that you’re doing something you shouldn’t - but if you remind Hongseok of that, there’s a chance he’s not on the same page.
Hongseok smiles at you with that drop-dead gorgeous grin he has, and you know that at least right now he’s content to have you like this, spread out on his bed and waiting for him to finish getting naked. And that’s enough for you to decide to let the whole thing go and just enjoy living in the moment. You’re not going to ruin this by worrying.
As soon as he drops his pants, he’s on you again, like he couldn’t stand another second of distance from you. Hongseok’s mouth peppers your chest with kisses as a hand snakes beneath your back to unclasp your bra. He frees you from the garment, and his mouth eagerly wraps around one of your nipples, tonguing it and sucking gently.
“Bite it,” you plead, and he very willingly does as you ask. His teeth pinch your nipple, and you nearly cry out because it feels so good.
The last time you and Hongseok hooked up, you might have taken all the time in the world to get to explore each other’s bodies, but you could tell tonight would not be that way. You’ve both waited long enough for this dam to break and you need him so desperately.
You tug on his hair and he roughly palms you through your underwear, rushed and eager. After just a few moments he pushes your panties to the side and runs his fingers across your slickness. You’re so wet for him already.
He aggressively plunges one finger inside of you, practically shuddering at the way you moan when he does. He pumps a few times before slipping in another finger.
Then he pulls away from you. “Don’t move.” He goes over to his closet, and pulls down a box of condoms from the shelf. You smile, and then become quickly distracted as he pulls off his boxer briefs, his hard cock grabbing your attention. 
He rolls on the condom and yanks you to the edge of the bed, slipping off your panties before bringing your legs to rest on his shoulders. He lines up the head of his cock with your pussy and presses inside of you, covering your legs with kisses and bites as his hips buck into yours.
It’s absolutely incredible and you’re so full with every thrust. His hips snap wildly into you and you moan, loving every second of this. Pure pleasure shoots through you, and then you fucking open your eyes.
It’s easy for you to just screw your eyes shut when you’re having sex, because closing your eyes lets you focus more on the pleasure that you feel. But when you look up to see Hongseok staring down at you with those sharp eyes of his, his rough fingers digging into your thighs, his abdominal muscles flexing every time his cock disappears inside of you… how could you not allow yourself to watch?
“You’re so fucking hot, oh my God…” The words come out against your will, but the deadly smirk on his lips makes you not regret it.
“I know.”
Cue the eyeroll. “And still a cocky little shit.”
“I might be.” Hongseok pulls your legs down so that they fall to either side of his waist, and he leans down over you, his lips brushing your ear. It’s clear that he’s not affected by the insult, and judging by the way the pace of this thrusting increases, you can only assume that he’s trying to prove his worth.
His forearms scoop under your upper back and his hands cradle your head as he fucks you, his kisses overwhelming your senses. You slip a hand between your bodies to rub your clit, and you moan against his mouth.
Pleasure burns through your body, your heart racing with each kiss, each thrust. The only thought in your head is the repeated chant of more, more, more, I need more. His cock slides deliciously in and out of you, completely covered in your wetness, but it isn't enough. Your fingers tirelessly press circles into your clit, but it isn't enough. You need more.
"Hongseok…" You mewl his name when he finally comes up for air. 
His eyelids hang heavily as he hovers over you. "_____…"
Fuck, he's so beautiful. It steals your breath away to see him looking at you like this, breathing hard as he pounds into you. His gaze is possessive, like he's finally claimed you, and you honestly wouldn't mind calling yourself his. But that's neither here nor there. 
You forcefully clench around him, squeezing his cock with all you've got. He certainly notices - he hisses as his eyes pinch shut at the feeling of you so tightly wrapped around his cock. His deep groan sends a shiver down your spine.
Hongseok’s voice is low as he says, “Christ, you feel so good.”
You don’t know what to say, or if you should even say anything. Hongseok’s expression is so serious as he locks eyes with you, like he’s genuinely lost in your gaze. It’s intimidating, yet it makes your heart race in the most incredible way.
You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, noting how easily the soft strands slip between your fingers and how his whole face softens at the touch. Hongseok’s eyes close as he leans into your hand, enjoying the gentle intimacy.
He slows the pace of his thrusting until he’s languidly rolling into you, his arm muscles bulging beneath you as he holds himself up. You move your hand to cup his face, and he presses a kiss to your palm, never breaking eye contact.
Fuck. You remember exactly why it was so easy to pretend like you were in love that first night.
Your fingers trace over his cheekbone, his jaw, his lips, remembering the excitement of exploring him for the first time. This time feels so different - it’s a weird combination of a dangerous thrill and caution. It’s impossible to remove from your mind the fact that you really shouldn’t be doing this - you’re too overwhelmed by wanting him to pay much attention to the rules of reality.
But you see it on his face, too. The trepidation, the hesitation, and the incredible amount of desire that overrides everything else. 
As if Hongseok can tell that you’re beginning to overthink, he presses another kiss to your hand and gives you an easy smile. Softly, he murmurs, “It’s just you and me tonight.”
Aaaannnnddddd suddenly you’ve melted into a complete puddle.
“Just you and me,” you echo. 
Hongseok lowers himself, meeting your lips with another passionate kiss. You grab hold of his hair and return each kiss, moaning quietly as he picks up his pace ever so slightly. His tongue slides between your lips as your hand returns to your clit, electric pleasure pulsing through you once more.
You are absolutely content to stay here all night, trapped in his embrace with his cock thrusting deep inside of you with every movement. You don’t want a single centimeter of space between you and him. 
When you’re both breathing too hard to kiss properly, his mouth travels down to your neck, pressing sloppy kisses along your throat. Every swipe of his tongue draws a quiet cry from you, and you clench your muscles around his cock to return the pleasurable favor. 
You hear a deep moan from him, confirmation that you’re making him feel good, too. It’s like music to your ears; all you want is for him to feel good.
Instead of continuing to touch yourself, you use both hands to scrape the short tips of your fingernails down his back to elicit more sounds from him. And then you cup his ass and encourage him to press harder, deeper. And you keep clenching.
“Jesus Christ,” Hongseok mutters. He’s unraveling in your hands. You can feel it.
“What is it, Hongseok?” You play dumb, letting out a sweet moan just a moment after posing your question.
“You keep squeezing me…” Hongseok’s breath is shaky, and part of you loves seeing him so affected by you. “It feels so good, fuck.”
Digging your fingernails into his ass cheeks, you ask, “Do you want to cum?”
You clench around him again right as he’s about to answer. “Aaahhh… fuck, oh my God.” He looks up at you with the slightest smile on his face. “What are you doing to me?”
“Making sure you feel good.” You smile coyly at him. “Is it working?”
“Yes. Fuck.” Hongseok lets out a short laugh.
Boldly, you ask, “Why don’t you cum for me then? Let me see you cum...”
“Is that what you want?”
“Mhm.” You nod, smiling.
Hongseok lowers his lips to your ear. “Alright, sweetheart.”
The nickname shocks your core - you don’t know why you’re such a sucker for it. You’re inclined to believe that just about anyone could call you sweetheart and immediately have you begging to be fucked. 
What strikes you, though, is the slight difference you sense between hearing the nickname from Yanan versus Hongseok. When Yanan called you sweetheart, it felt sleazy, like he knew what kind of power it would hold and he wasn’t afraid to use it. That was hot in its own right. But when Hongseok calls you sweetheart, it feels strangely gentle and warm. Maybe it’s because of the way he holds you as he says it, the way his breath sweetly breezes past your ear. There’s something undeniably lovely about Hongseok, especially when he’s got you in his bed.
You press your lips to his temple, small moans coming from you as he keeps thrusting. The stretch of his cock feels absolutely amazing, and you’re completely captivated by every sensation - the rolling of his hips, the grip of his hand in your hair, the scent of his sweat mixing with his cologne.
With another clench of your pussy around his cock, you sense him hold back a moan, like he’s trying to hide just how easy it is for you to elicit a response from him. But at this point, you can’t be fooled. He’s so enamored by you that he couldn’t even let you reach the front door. And that fact is absolutely going to go to your head. 
Hongseok loses himself in you, thrusting into you and biting your neck, sucking your skin harshly and drawing a pleasured cry from you. It feels like he wants to absolutely devour you. If you could give him any more of yourself, you absolutely would. 
His breathing becomes ragged and you know that means he’s close. You card your fingers through his hair and whisper his name, and Hongseok lifts his head up to gaze down at you. His eyelids are heavy with lust, his lips parted from breathing hard. 
“_____…” Hongseok murmurs your name, his eyes pinching shut. Your eyes just skim over his face, taking in his gorgeous expression. His hips snap into you a few more times until he empties into the condom, and it’s just as incredible to watch as you remember.
Hongseok almost immediately dives in for another kiss as soon as he finishes. You eagerly reciprocate, still in need of your own release. His lips are devastatingly soft and you don’t think you’ll ever get over it.
Without leaving your lips, he lifts himself off of you, allowing his hand to roam over your curves. You feel terribly empty when he pulls out, but his cock is quickly replaced by his fingers. You groan against his mouth as his fingers gently pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing circles into your clit.
Finally, he releases your lips, and without a word he repositions himself on the bed so that he’s kneeling between your legs, pressing fervent kisses to your thighs. The teasing doesn’t last long, though - surely he can sense how desperate you are for more.
His mouth quickly moves to your pussy, gently kissing and licking your folds while his fingers continue gliding in and out. And then he finally reaches your clit, and your whole body warms with pleasure.
Hongseok’s tongue is wet and hot as it works your clit, and he looks so fucking hot between your legs like this. You’re absolutely drowning in pleasure and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 
You don’t dare to hold yourself back, moaning freely to let him know just how amazing he is at going down on you. With each suck, each flick of his tongue, you become more unraveled, the tension in your belly growing astoundingly fast.
You curse under your breath, wishing you could just enjoy this forever. Hongseok’s hand roughly grips your thigh, calloused fingers digging into your soft skin. His mouth sends waves of pleasure through your body. And on top of it all, your heart pounds rapidly in your chest, making you believe there’s a chance this could possibly be something special.
Hongseok’s fingers pulse in time with his tongue, and before you know it the coil snaps. Your entire body tightens and releases as your orgasm crashes over you, powerful warmth racing through your veins. Wave after wave hits you, and Hongseok presses a flat tongue against your clit as you ride it out, and the walls of your pussy rhythmically squeeze his fingers.
It seems like a solid minute of pure bliss before the feeling eventually fades. Hongseok retracts his fingers and lips, and he takes a moment to tie off the condom and toss it into the trash can next to his dresser. And then Hongseok joins you on the bed, wrapping you in his strong arms as sleep tugs at your eyelids.
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You wake up unbearably hot, and it doesn’t take you long to realize why. You’re completely pressed up against Hongseok’s naked body, and that man is a radiator.
You smile at his sleeping face for only a moment before you start to fill with dread.
You hadn’t meant to spend the night, but you did.
You hadn’t meant to sleep with your professor, but you did.
It was an accident the first time. This time is completely inexcusable.
What were you thinking? How could you have let any of this happen? You’re fully aware of the consequences and yet you slept with him anyway. And you spent the night.
You peel yourself off of him. He seems to be a heavy sleeper and he doesn’t notice the movement, thank God. You hurry out of the bedroom, pulling on your clothes as you find them on the floor until you’re dressed enough to head out. And right as you reach the stairs, you hear him.
“_____?”
You pause. Of course you couldn’t just slip out unnoticed. 
But you have to leave. You don’t want to talk to him about any of this right now. You’re up to your eyes in anxiety and you just need to get out. You can’t even muster up the courage to turn around and see if he’s out of bed.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all you can think to say as you rush down the stairs and out the door.
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The three hour train ride to get you home is too long for you to be left alone with your own thoughts. The fact that your jacket smells like Professor Yang’s cologne certainly doesn’t help. You replay last night’s events over and over in your mind, partly thrilled by the memory of sleeping with him and partly disappointed in yourself for your bad decision-making.
Last night was incredible. Spending time with Professor Yang at his showcase was actually really fun, and you have a new admiration for his talents and intelligence. Chatting with him in the car was so comfortable. And the way he fucked you…
You bury your face in your hands and lean towards the window of the train, hiding because you’re embarrassed to be having such lewd thoughts in public. You pull your turtleneck collar a little higher just to make sure the lovely hickey he left is appropriately hidden.
What are you going to do when you see him in class after break? Just pretend like nothing is going on as per usual, you assume. 
And what does this mean for everything with Kino? You’re supposed to be spending this short vacation thinking about what kind of future you want with him, not figuring out whether you regret an undoubtedly terrible choice you just made.
And Wooseok… you haven’t even addressed the fact that you were supposed to be at his place last night instead of Professor Yang’s. He hasn’t reached out to you either, so you assume that he was too drunk to remember your plans.
You’re going to have to dump all of this on Minseo as soon as you see her at the train station, since she’s the only one in the world who knows what happened between you and Professor Yang this summer. And honestly, you’re not sure if she’s going to be thrilled or pissed by what you’ve done.
You spend most of the train ride trying to distract yourself with music and a book, and by the time you arrive you actually start to feel excited about seeing Minseo. You tuck your book back into your backpack, grab your suitcase from the front of the train car, and step off of the train. The platform is full of other disembarking passengers, and you assume she must be waiting inside the station’s lobby. 
You pull out your phone as you roll your suitcase towards the lobby, and you’re surprised to see that she hasn’t responded to your text confirming what time she needed to be here to pick you up. That’s not necessarily a bad sign, but it’s not promising. You decide to try calling her, but she doesn’t answer. 
“I swear to God, if you forgot about me…” You seethe an empty threat at your phone as you hang up.
And then you hear your name called over the rumbling of your suitcase next to you. It’s a voice that you never in a million years expected to find here at this train station.
Your eyes dart around the room until you finally locate him, your heart completely stopping and your stomach dropping to the floor. 
He’s actually here. Right in front of you.
Your brother is here.
“Jinho?”
POST SCRIPT | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 10, and let me know if you want to be tagged when I post it!
UPDATE | Read Part 10 here!
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cozy-the-overlord · 4 years
Text
Crimson Curls
Summary:  A barista at the Avengers Tower coffeeshop goes missing. Her boyfriend, prominent Avengers engineer Michael Hauer, headlines a desperate campaign to find her, aided by the support of Tony Stark and the rest of the super-powered team. But as Hauer’s narrative begins to unravel, it becomes clear that a certain Asgardian prince knows more than he’s telling.
Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character
Chapter 3: Solace
Previous Chapter |
Word Count: 4,281
A/N:  Final chapter! Hope you like it :) Thank you so much for reading!
TW: domestic violence
Read it on Ao3
“Oh, did I mention that I finally convinced my mom to buy a smartphone?” Elaine was chuckling. “She just discovered the world of emojis. Every text I get from her is immediately followed by like twenty different happy faces!”
Laughter erupted up around the small table. Kristine found herself giggling too, despite herself. She almost hadn’t come tonight. She didn’t think the others had expected her to come, either: Curt had invited her with a nervous sort of hesitance that gave her plenty of room to back out.  “It’s okay if you don’t want to come. We totally understand.”
The excuses had bubbled to her lips in an instinctual panic—I can’t, I have plans, I’m not feeling well—but she clamped down on her tongue before they spilled out. Her therapist was always telling her that the only way she could take back control of her life was to trust herself to control it. So, Kristine swallowed her insecurities and smiled at her coworker.
“I’d love to. What time?”
It hadn’t been a perfect night. Old habits die hard, and Kristine found herself looking over her shoulder more often than not. Every time, she’d turn back to the table, feeling stupid. What did she expect to see? Michael lurking behind the bar in his orange jumpsuit? Her fellow baristas had to notice—if there was one thing that this whole ordeal had taught her, it was that she was incapable of subtlety—but they were kind enough not to say anything.
It had been fun, though—more fun than she had expected. Kristine hadn’t realized how little she knew the people she worked alongside. She found herself learning all sorts of things. Curt played rugby on the weekends. Kristine hadn’t even known rugby was a thing in America, but apparently he was in an amateur league right in New York, and went straight to practices after work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Tasha was a self-titled crazy cat lady, with five felines living with her in her small apartment. She passed around her phone with pictures of the newest kitten, a tiny orange fluffball named Tigger. Elaine was locked in a never-ending struggle with her 63-year-old mother to “introduce her to the 21st century.”
At first, Kristine had felt guilty that she didn’t have any captivating stories to contribute to the conversation. Her only hobby was her art, and there wasn’t much to say about that. I draw people when I’m bored. Certainly nothing compared to Curt’s gripping account of how his friend fractured his neck in a game two weeks ago. But there was no pressure for her to add anything, and slowly, Kristine relaxed, content just listening to the chat.
The couple at the table across from them caught her eye towards the end of their meal. They had been whispering to each other ever since they sat down, looking back and forth between Kristine and their phone screen. She stiffened as they gestured towards her. Getting recognized in public… that was a thing she still couldn’t wrap her head around. She didn’t understand why seeing her made people so excited… it wasn’t like she was a singer, or an actress, or some other type of celebrity. She was just… her. Normal. No different than anybody else she passed on the sidewalk.
Kristine tried to ignore the excited couple and turn back to the conversation, but it was hard with the tell-tale clicking of a cell phone camera to her right. She closed her eyes. Just ignore them. Just ignore them.
The camera shutter soon caught the attention of the others, however. Elaine stopped what she was saying and turned to glare at the other table.
“Hey!” she snapped at the couple. Kristine jumped at the sudden shout. “Knock it off! She doesn’t want pictures!”
The two were stricken. Mumbling an apology, they turned back to their dinner.
“Thanks,” Kristine murmured, eyes downcast. It seemed she couldn’t go anywhere these days without being interrupted by someone. She couldn’t imagine how annoying that must have been for those she was with. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Elaine said. “It’s not your fault that people act like dumbasses around famous people.”
Famous people.
Kristine wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Should she be upset that the whole world seemed to know every intimate detail of her broken life, or should she be honored that they cared? Because they did care—that was maybe the most shocking part of it all. Once she woke up in April, after the whirlwind of finding herself in the Loki’s penthouse room and getting examined by the Avengers’ private doctor team and being interviewed by police investigators for hours, she finally looked at the Twitter hashtags that had been trending while she slept. It was… surreal.
Just saw the news about the blood in the apartment and I’m crying. I want her to be alive so badly, but I don’t think she is anymore. Please, @NYPD, don’t let this monster get away with her murder. #ArrestMichaelHauer #WheresTheBodyMichael? #JusticeForKristine
He controlled her, abused her, and tried to blame her for her own disappearance. Do NOT let him get away with it. #ArrestMichaelHauer #WheresTheBodyMichael? #JusticeForKristine
She’s such a beautiful girl. I hope they find her and that the boyfriend gets what he deserves. #JusticeForKristine
There were thousands of them. Thousands, and not a single handle she recognized. Perfect strangers, rushing from across the country to fight for her.
When Loki had returned with tea, he had found her in tears.
“What’s wrong?” he had asked, rushing to her side by the computer.
Kristine shook her head. “There’s just so many,” she whispered. “I never thought there would be so many!”
After the announcement was made that she had been found, alive and well, she thought the support would stop, but the floodgates had only just been opened. She started getting messages addressed directly to her, from tweets that read like letters to actual letters in the mail. Kristine had never gotten a letter in her life, and yet here she was having to open a special PO box because of all the mail coming into Avengers Tower addressed to her.
She got letters from people who followed the case, people who were so relieved to find that she was okay that they had to let her know. There were people she had never met, writing to tell her that she was beautiful and talented and deserved so much better than the likes of Michael. There were people writing to tell her that they hoped she knew that they would always support her, even if they could never understand what she had been through.
And then there were the people who understood exactly what she had been through. Some days, she found herself reading stories from women she didn’t know that read like pages from her own diary. Kristine had always been aware that she wasn’t the only person with a significant other like Michael—she had seen the PSA’s on television, she knew the words “domestic violence”—but somehow, she had always felt like the only one. Who else in real life was foolish enough to get into such a situation, and who else was weak enough to stay? But there were others.
So many others.
Those letters were overwhelming in a completely different way.
Kristine hid them all away, in a cardboard box underneath her bed in her Avengers Tower apartment. She had been staying there ever since she woke up: Mr. Stark had insisted. She had never really liked Tony Stark. He was fun to draw, because his face was so recognizable, but to her, that was where his merits always ended. Maybe it was because he adored Michael so much: every party she went to, he made a point of telling her how lucky she was that she snagged such a talented man. He provoked a deep bitterness in her chest, masked only by her anxiety. Kristine never had any doubts that if it came down to her word against Michael’s, Mr. Stark wouldn’t even bother to hear her out.
She couldn’t believe it when Loki told her Stark had fired Michael. He had done it early on, too: before the blood and the knife had even been discovered.
“The phone calls?” she whispered hoarsely. “That’s all it took?”
Loki looked at her sideways. “Those calls were horrific,” he said. “He’d have to be soulless not to terminate him after hearing them.”
And then, when she realized that she would have to find a new place to live now that Michael was in jail, Mr. Stark insisted that she stay at the Tower, at least until she found a suitable apartment elsewhere. He told her to consider it his way of apologizing.
“But—you don’t have to—to apologize for anything, sir,” she stuttered, unable to look him in the eye.
Mr. Stark was adamant. “This whole shitshow comes back to me. I hired him, I hired you, he met you because of it. Matchmaker, remember?” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, it all comes back to me.”
Kristine wasn’t so sure of that, but she was touched by his guilt. He had even offered to send his Iron Legion to retrieve her stuff for her, but she elected to do that herself, with Loki. There wasn’t much to retrieve: clothes, art supplies, little bits and baubles she had taken with her when she moved to New York.
She froze in the doorway when they first walked in. The floor was as clean as ever, and yet in her mind she could still see the sticky red trail, the sickly warmth seeping down her shirt. It had taken a minute to process that all that blood had been coming from her.
Loki squeezed her hand gently. “If you’d prefer,” he murmured into her hair, in a voice just barely loud enough for her to hear, “You don’t have to go in. Just tell me what you wish to fetch, and I’ll take care of it.”
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “No. No. I’m—I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Still, the events of that night played out in her head as she made her way through the apartment. How Michael had been ordering that she quit her job at the coffeeshop. He had been wanting her to quit for a while now, convinced that she was constantly flirting with other men while he was at work. If she loved him, he said, she’d prove it by doing this one thing for him.
Kristine refused. Honestly, her resolve surprised herself. At this point, she had learned that the only way to keep the peace was to cave to Michael’s wishes, but this demand stirred something in her. The barista job was the last thing she had left, the only thing he couldn’t touch. She told him he couldn’t make her quit even if he killed her for it.
She had regretted the words immediately. He lunged at her with wild eyes, that vein popping in his neck. When she tried to call Loki, he ripped the phone from her hands and flung her into the coat rack.
Kristine had scrambled into the kitchen area. She had grabbed the knife in a panic, some half baked idea of defending herself, but he was on top of her before she had time to think, shouting at her and wrestling for the handle.
And then it was in her.
She didn’t feel it go in. Even after it went in, it wasn’t that bad—just a dull stinging in her abdomen that seemed to pulse with her heartbeat. She looked down slowly, dazedly, reaching out to grip the handle buried in her stomach. Michael looked down too, mouth agape. Kristine remembered thinking that he looked like a fish.
She wasn’t sure how she got back into the hallway floor, but Michael was yelling at her again.
“What the fuck were you thinking, going for the knife? Are you fucking insane?”
She was breathing hard, and it hurt more with every breath, sending shockwaves of pain through her body. Blood was dripping down her front. Her blood, she recognized dimly.
That was the scene Loki had arrived at. She didn’t remember much after that.
That moment ensnared her as she stuffed shirts into her ratty old suitcase. Loki didn’t talk about what he saw much, but it was clear from what he did say that he was certain Michael meant to kill her. She supposed she couldn’t blame him—had she seen what he saw, she probably would have drawn the same conclusion. But as it stood, Kristine wasn’t so sure. Maybe he would’ve finished her off, had her Asgardian knight in shining armor not come to rescue her, but she couldn’t forget his shocked fish face recoil when the blade pierced her stomach.
“What were you thinking Kristine?”
Why was she so hung up on this? What did it matter what Michael might’ve done if given the chance? The only important thing was what he did do: he hurt her, he manipulated her, he stabbed her. Wasn’t that enough?
It was enough for him to be arrested. Or… remain arrested, she guessed. Of course, the murder charge was dropped once it was proven that no murder had taken place, but police were quick to smack him with attempted murder and numerous charges of assault and battery. News outlets were constantly reaching out for comment, but Mr. Stark shut them all down for her.
“Ms. Ververs has been through a very traumatic experience,” he said at a press conference. “She has no desire to comment on anything at the moment, and we at Avengers Tower would greatly appreciate it if you all stopped pestering her.”
“Well, Kris, it looks like you’ve made it,” Agent Romanov said to her as they watched coverage from the television in the penthouse. “You’ve got Tony Stark acting as your PR. You can either celebrate or be extremely concerned.”
Kristine forced a laugh. Out of all her new super-powered roommates, the Black Widow was easily the most intimidating. Still, she seemed to like Kristine for some reason. Actually, all of the Avengers seemed to like her. Dr. Banner seemed to enjoy striking up quiet conversation with her, completely unbothered by her inability to get a coherent sentence out when she was nervous. Captain Rodgers was impressed by her artwork, always ready with some new compliment that made her day. Thor never failed to greet her with a smile.
Kristine was pretty sure they were just being nice because they felt bad for her, but she decided not to let it bother her. It made her feel nice too.
They were all outraged on her behalf when Michael took a plea deal. He plead guilty to attempted murder in the second degree in exchange for all other charges being dropped and was sentenced to seven years in prison.
“Seven years,” fumed Loki when the news broke. “He could have killed you, and he only gets seven years. It’s ludicrous.”
Despite popular opinion, Kristine was relieved. If Michael had pled innocent, there would have been a trial. She would have had to sit on the witness stand and face him down as she attempted to tell her story in front of dozens of eyes. Seven years was more than enough for her.
The check was paid, and the group made ready to leave, still laughing and telling stories as they walked through the door. Avengers Tower was only a short walk up the street, so Kristine said her goodbyes and started on her way. She never really went out much after the sun set. It was strange to think that even cloaked in night, the city still was wide awake. The night air sent shivers up her bare arms, but Kristine didn’t mind. She was wearing short sleeves a lot more these days, now that she didn’t have to worry about covering up bruises. It was freeing, in a strange sort of way.
Kristine noticed one of her missing posters taped to the stoplight while she waited to cross the street. The ink had mostly been washed away by recent thunderstorms, but she could still make out the outline of her face, grinning awkwardly at the ground.
It was a really awful picture they decided to plaster across the country. Michael had taken it, the morning after the first night they spent together. Her hair was a complete mess (but then when was it ever not?), and she had that uncomfortable photo smile she wore in every picture ever taken of her. She wasn’t even looking at the camera!—why on Earth had they chosen that one?  
She glanced around for a moment. When she saw that no one was looking, she ripped the poster from the pole and crumpled it into her purse. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. She hadn’t been missing for nearly half a year now, no reason to keep them up anymore. Still, Kristine crossed the street with the feeling in her stomach that she had committed a capital offense.
If her mother could have seen her now, she would have been laughing. Diana Ververs never understood her daughter’s desperate need to be seen by no one. It had been a problem her whole life. There was one time, all the way back in second grade, when Kristine had come home begging her mother to let her dye her hair brown so that she wouldn’t be the only redhead in the school.
At the request, her mom had tilted her head and frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Everyone looks at me!” Kristine cried. “It’s ugly and I hate it!”
“Oh, Krissy, that’s not true!” she said. “They look at you because your hair is the prettiest color in the whole world. That’s why I married your dad, you know.”
The girl hadn’t been convinced. “I want brown hair!” she said. “Like Ashley and Erin.”
“But if you had brown hair like Ashley and Erin, I wouldn’t be able to recognize you,” her mother said, pulling her into her arms. “I’d say, ‘where’s my pretty little Krissy with her red hair?’ I’d be sad and lonely. You don’t want me to be sad and lonely, do you?”
Little Kristine had faltered at that. “Nnnooo…”
“Then you’ll keep your red hair for me?” she asked hopefully, kissing the crown of her head.
“Alright,” Kristine agreed reluctantly. “Just for you, Mama.”
Growing up, it had just been the two of them. Kristine’s father had died in a car accident before she was born, and they didn’t really have any extended family nearby. Kristine had been exceptionally close with her mother, closer than she had ever been with any friends or acquaintances she met at school. When the diagnosis came in, the ground just fell out from under her. What had been simple complaints of back pain was suddenly stage IV lung cancer, and Kristine was dropping out of her master’s program to help her mom through chemo.
Everything spiraled so fast. Within months, she was gone.
While she had been asleep, Kristine had dreamed about her mom. Her dad had been there too: Kristine recognized the diabolical red curls that he had so kindly passed down to her. They had swirled around her in a mist-filled limbo, smiling and singing to her in voices too quiet to hear properly. Kristine had wondered if she was dead. It made sense to her healing-stone-drugged brain: dying young was in her blood, after all. Death and her were old friends at this point, might as well embrace it.
Frustratingly though, her parents remained just out of reach. Kristine cried and screamed and begged, grasping at thin air for her mother’s hand, but she couldn’t quite bridge the distance. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes into the elegant chambers of Prince Loki and felt her groan vibrate in her throat that she realized she wasn’t dead after all.
Actually, it seemed her life might have just begun.
Kristine slid her ID card in the door of Avengers Tower, smiling awkwardly at the night watchman, then swiped it again in the elevator.
So much security. Sometimes, she almost forgot that she was living on what was essentially a government base. The elevator chimed as the doors opened at the top floor and she slipped into the common room.
“Did you have a good time?” Kristine jumped. Loki was stretched out on the couch, legs crossed elegantly, not even looking up from his book.
She raised an eyebrow. “Were-were you waiting up for me?”
“Of course not. Not everything’s about you, you know.” Loki turned the page, but there was a glint in his eye that made Kristine smile.
“Um…” she pushed her hair out of her face. “I think I’m going to make some tea. Want some?”
“That sounds lovely.”
Kristine fumbled around the kitchen as she heated the water, feeling his eyes on her all the while. She found herself stealing glances back at him as well—he just looked so regal, lounging there as if he owned the whole place. She wished she could get away with snapping a picture on her phone, just so she could have something to reference for a sketch later. Kristine had been drawing a lot of Loki recently—after all, she had promised—but she had yet to show any of these portraits to him. The floundering, bumbling part of her was convinced that they weren’t good enough, that he’d hate them. Stupid, she knew—he had nothing but praise to shower on the artwork she did decide to show him, but still she was nervous.
She wanted him to like her so badly. Like them. The drawings. But her too. Kind of. And that was stupid as well, because she knew he liked her. He had saved her life, after all. But even excluding that, Loki had always been so nice to her. Kristine had often wondered if he knew how badly she looked forward to his little visits every afternoon at the coffeeshop, the silly little chats they’d share for a few minutes. And he never stopped looking out for her: even now, months after everything had been resolved, he’d still check up on how she was feeling.
Still, sometimes she wondered. Did he actually like her, or were his actions just out of pity? It was a strange thing to consider, especially given his tumultuous past (imagine trying to explain to the average New Yorker that Loki of Asgard might have spent months being nice to some random girl just because he felt bad for her), but she considered it often, nonetheless. She didn’t know how to feel about it.
Kristine brought the teacups over to the couch. Loki sat up, moving his legs so that she could sit next to him, thanking her softly as she handed him the cup. For a while, they just sat there, sipping their tea in silence.
Finally, though, she found the courage to clear her throat. “Hey,” she asked. “Remember when you asked me to dance at the Christmas party?”
He grinned. “How could I forget?”
“Why did you?” she asked bluntly. Her cheeks immediately flushed red. “I mean—did you—could you tell? That he—Michael and I—that we—”
Luckily, Loki seemed to get what she was trying to spit out. “Not exactly,” he said, stirring his tea methodically. “I could tell that you were unhappy, and that he was completely unbothered by the fact that you were unhappy, and I found that to be concerning. But at that point, I never would have guessed the extent of the situation.”
No. It seemed no one could have guessed the extent of the situation. “Oh,” Kristine mumbled. “Is-is that why you asked me to dance? Because you were concerned?”
Loki raised his eyebrows, turning to fix Kristine with an amused gaze. “I asked you to dance because I wanted to dance with you.” When Kristine stared back at him in silence, he laughed. “Is that so difficult to believe?”
“N-no.” Now it was her turn to focus on stirring her tea and ignoring her companion. “I just… I’m not sure what happens now.”
“That would depend,” Loki said. “What do you wish to happen now?”
Kristine gulped. He had put the ball in her court. Even months later, she still found herself expecting someone to pop up and tell her exactly what to do. But Loki was waiting patiently. This decision was hers.
“I guess…” she started, speaking far too fast. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you took me out for coffee. Not in the Tower, I mean. There’s-there’s a place down the street. Unless you’d like the Tower better, that is. I don’t really care—”
Loki hushed her gently. “I’d be honored to take you out for coffee,” he said. “Would tomorrow morning suffice?”
It took her a full minute for her to fully process what he was saying, but once she did, Kristine couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her lips. “Yeah. Yeah, that would… suffice.”
“Good.” Loki leaned back against the cushions, and silence lapsed around them once more. Kristine hesitated for a moment before following him, shyly resting her head on his shoulder. He stiffened at first, and Kristine made to pull away, but he wrapped his arm around her and held her closer.
She sighed contentedly. She was safe here.
Safe with Loki.
26 notes · View notes
paradise-creator · 3 years
Note
Hellooo!! I love love LOVE the diamond box matchup you did!! You're amazing!! Your blog is incredible!! Now I'm here for a romantic haven box Haikyuu matchup pls🥺
Appearance: My name is Kay! She/her, black, straight, 5'1, I have a slightly athletic & curvy-ish figure (lol idk), short-ish hair(like mid-neck), dark brown eyes, shoe size 9, I like to dress comfy so I'm always in oversized hoodies, sweatpants, sneakers, sweatshirts and shorts. I like colorful clothes too, high waisted jeans and shorts and boots. I'm not very fashionable but I try lol.
Personality:
Basics: infp-t, Hufflepuff, Taurus sun, scorpio moon, sanguine, chaotic good, ambivert.
Some positive traits: I'm optimistic, friendly, energetic, organized, enthusiastic, observant, happy, open-minded, loving, encouraging and inquisitive!!
Some negative traits: I'm annoying, perfectionist, insecure, forgetful, easily distracted, kinda lazy, argumentative, too nice at times and clingy.
I love learning new things!! Currently I'm learning Korean, how to draw, how to paint and songs on the saxophone.
When I'm up for it, I love fun physical activity!! Going for a hike, going to the gym, bungee jumping, mountain climbing, going camping and etc :D
Although I love going out, nothing beats lazy days at home. I can spend hours by myself and still be happy. When alone I usually sleep or watch a movie/anime or practice my drawing or saxophone or try and learn something new!
I have a horrible memory and can never remember important dates 😭 I've forgotten my own birthday a few times (rip) so people can get mad at me for missing appointments, forgetting birthdays and other important days. I try my best to organize everything necessary on my phone calendar so I can be reminded.
I love seeing people happy! Nothing can fulfill my day more than knowing I put a smile on someone's face! I usually try my best to help out anyone who needs it and to the best of my ability! This has led to me getting taken advantage of in the past but I can't help but try and make others happy. I've developed a thicker skin and some trust issues as I've grown up because of it.
I love hyping my friends/family up!! Do you need a boost in confidence? Here I am, ready to help you remember the absolute king/queen/royalty that you are!! I'm usually very energetic and enthusiastic about many things and I love spreading positivity around!!
My love language is physical touch! So touch is very important to me in my relationships. Though I am insecure so I tend to think that I smother the people I care about with too much affection idk lol. I live for hugs and cuddles and hand holding 👉🏿👈🏿 but because of that I feel like I'm very clingy and annoying skskfksjd
I'm introverted in nature so although I mean usually full of energy and love making new friends, I can't do it for too long lol. My social battery runs out really fast and I have to hide away and recharge before I can be fully social again, otherwise I won't be my best self. I treasure personal time and understand when people need time for themselves too.
I love spontaneity!! I love living in the moment and doing stuff just for the hell of it!! Wanna go on a road trip? Dance in the rain? Build houses for charity? Go to McDonald's at 2am? Go on a long walk? SIGN ME UP!!
I can also be lazy and unmotivated to do stuff. If something doesn't interest me, I'd find myself incapable of doing it or I'd do it with great difficulty. I'm one of those 'do something when inspiration/motivation hits you otherwise it'll be absolute shit' types.
But when I do have motivation/inspiration that's when my perfectionism comes in and I have to do it in the best possible way and anything less is an insult to me, my family, my ancestors and descendants lmaoo. Unfortunately I subconsciously set a very high bar for myself which can be overwhelming and stressful but when I manage to produce work of that quality, it's very satisfying and rewarding jshkshdhsj
I have more to add but I feel like this is getting way too long 💀 lemme just move to the next section heheheh
Hobbies: I LOVE listening to music, learning new things, watching movies/anime, sleeping, reading, writing, playing saxophone (I'm still learning tho lol), swimming, drawing, journaling, making friends, and cooking!
My music taste: any type of rock (punk rock, grunge, j-rock, metal), pop, KPOP, RnB, jazz, dubstep, lofi hip hop, rap, trap, krnb, anime OP's and bangers from: Elvis, the beach boys, Queen, Khalid, Ateez, Harry styles, Kendrick Lamar, p!atd, mcr, fallout boy, Nirvana, BTS, mxmtoon, Marianas trench, twenty one pilots, stray kids, Jay Park, crush, Dreamcatcher, Skrillex, MJ, troye sivan etc
Fun facts:
I'm more of a cat person but I live dogs and think they're adorable!!
I have four piercings and I plan on getting more soon!!
I'm a night owl, and get super grumpy in the mornings especially when woken up unexpectedly >:/
Although I love making friends, I only have like 1/2 super close friends and like 20+ acquaintances lol
I want to get a tattoo soon but idk what to get :(
I'm super addicted to coffee (rip) and if I don't take some for some time (like a week) I'll get the worst migraines and I won't feel better until I drink some coffee 😭
That's it!! I hope i wrote enough stuff!! Did I leave anything out? If you need more pls tell me and I'll send another ask :D Take your time!! I'm in no rush. I'll patiently wait even though you get writers block or have a large amount of asks 😌 pls stay safe and healthy!! Drink lots of water, sleep well and have an amazing day/night!! 💙✨
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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!
The Haven box includes:
- Match up
- Sun drop
- Journal of Feelings
- 3 am shenanigans
───✱*.。:。✱*.:。✧*.。✰*.:。✧*.。:。*.。✱ ───
I'd match you up with
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Sugawara Koushi, Vice-captain of Karasuno
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Sun drops
- OKAY so like, as I read your description I thought of Akaashi or Yaku or Sugawara
- Me being the indecisive author I am had trouble picking
- But then I remembered that you loved to do spontaneous things.
- And that's when I realized that Sugawara is THE ONE
- You two would be deemed the "3 am couple"
- Or in the team it would be "Epitome of Chaos"
- He takes care of you
- He will alway remind you that you don't need to be perfect
- Insecurities? BE GONE
- Nagativity? BE GONE
- That's basically his motto
- He is both your mom and partner in Crime
- did I mention he will take care of you?
- CUDDLES AND KISSES FOR DAYS
───✱*.。:。✱*.:。✧*.。✰*.:。✧*.。:。*.。✱ ───
Journal of feelings
- Once this man realizes that you LOVE physical affection. He will give it to you. EVERYTIME HE SEES YOU
Kay entered the gym to watch her boyfriend play. She tried sneaking in and so far it has been great. She thought she was off the hook but then felt a familiar arms wrapped around her waist. "I found you~" Sugawara said with a smile.
- You both would often plan pranks and majority of the times, it would succeed
"Okay okay, so what are we doing today?" Kay asked the silver haired male. "Oh~ maybe we can scare Asahi or anyone for that matter with a beetle?" Sugawara suggested. "That's--no," Kay responded.
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3 am shenanigans
It’s 3 am in the morning. Almost everyone is fast asleep or in their homes, well almost. The night sky is littered with diamond in the sky. The streets were silent but it was comforting. A few people walked here and there. And a few cars passes by there and here. “What are we doing up so late?” A silver haired man said as he yawned. “We’ll be going to Mc Donald’s! What else?” The female responded as she smiled at him. “Is it even open at this time?” He asked. “Koushi, darling, it is open,” Kay, the lover of our beloved silvered male man said as she smiled. Sugawara chuckled and held her hand, the smile on his face was evident. “You know, we should be sleeping by now right?” He said as he pulled her closer. “And so what? I wasn’t planning on sleeping early! I slept the whole day yesterday and missed the chance to hang out with you,” The girl responded.
A small blush appeared on the male’s face and he giggled. “That’s very sweet bu-“ He was about to say but was silenced by the girl. “That was very sweet but we could’ve done this later on or tomorrow. Well, sorry to break it to you, Love. But, we are here,” She said as she pulled the male inside the fast food chain. And soon enough, the two got their orders and enjoyed their meal. “I don’t know why but this hits different,” Kay said as she eat a French fry. “It really does. Especially since you are here,” Sugawara stated as he patted her head. Now, she was the one blushing. As the two chatted, the other customers and staff glanced at them every now and then. None of them were annoyed at their interactions. On the contrary, they enjoyed watching them,
Some felt envious of their relationship. Some dreamt to have something like that. And others remembered the times of old. The two were so sweet, it’s almost too much. Laughter and chattering echoed through the building from both the couple and the people around them. Then they were dub the “3 am couple” as the two would often venture in that restaurant at 3 am in the morning.
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Author's note
I'm so so sorry for the long wait! This week has been hectic. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this matchup~ and thanks for requesting!
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7 notes · View notes
curiousherbal · 4 years
Note
“you don’t understand it now, but I’m trying to protect you” with saeyoung? haha it suits him very well
Ohh thank you so much for being my first request! I am so sorry this took me awhile to deliver, but I really enjoyed writing it~~ please enjoy xx
This fic was tonally inspired by the beautiful song "You are the Moon" by one of my favourite bands -- The Hush Sound. I recommend listening to that to get the sort of mood I was in when writing this.
.・゜-: ✧ :-  -: ✧ :-゜・.
The Gentle Grip of Night's Unfolding Arms
Mystic Messenger
*click title to read on ao3*
707 / Luciel / Saeyoung Choi x Reader ; 707 / Luciel / Saeyoung Choi x MC
Hurt/Comfort
1.9 k
Rated: G ; panic attacks, crying, romantic tension
Summary: Despite it having been brewed two hours ago, the cup of tea on the bedside table wasn’t nearly as cold as the hacker sitting before you.
.・゜-: ✧ :-  -: ✧ :-゜・.
Despite it having been brewed two hours ago, the cup of tea on the bedside table wasn’t nearly as cold as the hacker sitting before you.
Though you’ve had your fair share of tumultuous events in your upbringing, the past couple hours spent in a dead girl’s apartment surely took the cake for being the most dramatic of the bunch.
One minute you were attempting to fix yourself a mug cake, and the next your phone was suddenly being virtually accosted with increasingly frantic calls and texts.
A sudden crash of breaking glass—
You, whipping your head to gaze incredulously at the broken window of the 14th floor apartment.
A pale, shaky hand with slender knob-knuckled fingers clamping over your mouth.
Erratic, moist breath hissing into your ear.
Bleached white hair tickling your neck.
A flash of ginger and widening honey coloured eyes.
And just like that, your hacker in shining black hoodie had arrived, saving you in the nick of time – as if the entire situation couldn’t get more movie-type cliché than it had already been.
But despite the whirlwind progression of the past 7 days’ events, your fairytale seemed to reach a premature climax.
The cause of your current grief sat on the cold, hardwood floor just meters before you. His headphones were clamped firmly over his ears, his eyes carefully downcast, silently refusing to put you at ease with even the slightest glance.
Not even temptations of steaming Earl Grey nor calming scents of chamomile could entice him.
You turned your cheek to rest it upon your knee, your eyes making vacant sweeps, circling the bright yellow rings on his hoodie.
No, your fated meeting with Seven was anything but what you had hoped it would be.
Seven was…. mean.
Seven was… unyielding.
Seven was… incapable of love??
You shook your head, desperately trying to stifle the telltale warning of tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. I knew him for what?? 7 days? Stop being so pathetic.
But even so, it would be futile to ignore the hurt that now permeated through your core, now plaguing your mind with anxious, restless, relentless thoughts.
You had tried to comfort him after the shock of seeing his long-long, now-tormented, brother:
“Give me some space.”
You expressed an honest desire for mutual expression of your shared emotional traumas:
“Don’t try to get so close to me.”
And, gritting your teeth, you had attempted to take care of him from a purely human-needs perspective:
“Maybe you should just pretend that I’m not here.”
So your tea sat cold. And his tea sat cold. You sat on the bed. And he sat on the floor. You plead silently with your troubled gaze. So he turned his back.
Both of you too stubborn twin stars, chasing the trailing end of one another, but always just slightest out of sync. The alignment of your traveled paths, something as uncertain as the mercurial man in front of you.
And now, here you sat. Your knees cradled to your chest; your arms wrapped loosely around your shins. And you contemplated the possibility that your premature and ill-fated first meeting with Seven had forever knocked you both out of each other’s orbits.
“Seven…”
The click-clack of his fingers over his keyboard persisted.
“Seven.”
Click clack. Click clack.
“I know you’re not ever listening to anything through those expensive headphones.”
His fingers stilled momentarily. A pause.
They resumed.
“You can’t ever listen to anything,” you began as you inhaled a shaky breath, unsure if engaging in conversation with the young man would worsen your already fractured relationship.
“—because you need to be aware of your surroundings. I know you’re purposefully ignoring me. I get it; you need to work, bud.”
Carefully, the hacker gently lifted his headphones off, resting them against his neck. He turned his head slightly to the left, as if to get you in his peripheral vision.
“Did you…. Did you just call me ‘Bud’?”
Your face flushed red.
“An honest mistake, I assure you.” You sniffed airily and turned so that you were lying back down on the bed, your back to him. “You made it quite clear that we aren’t ‘buds’ earlier.”
You waited for a response, hoping he’d dig into your subtle jab as bait, but as the seconds ticked into a full minute, you soon picked up on the faint typing sounds emanating from his corner again.
The pang of hurt realized itself deep within your chest cavity again. The prick of tears resurfaced once more. Your head began to pound.
He doesn’t even care. He doesn’t want to talk to me. He never liked me to begin with.
A cacophonous clatter of conflicting emotions welled within you.
Guilt – for being sad that Seven was neglecting you when he obviously had his own emotional issues with his brother so recently resurfaced.
Shame – for being so openly emotional and weakhearted around a boy you had barely known a full week, and had only just met in person several hours ago.
Embarrassment – for being a vulnerable target for a dignified charity establishment like the RFA.
Fear – the lingering tendrils of distress clawed at your insides, refusing to forget his white hands, his white hair, his empty eyes, the crash of glass shattering, your bruised wrists, your heightened breathing, your—
Oh.
I’m crying.
….
I’m… crying. I’m shaking.
I don’t know why…
A sob stole itself into the vacancy of the night. You curled yourself tightly into a fetal position, desperately trying to stifle the mortifying noise.
Why did I end up here? Why did this happen to me?
Your fingers clutched your aching sides tightly, your nails planting waxing crescents on your easy flesh.
Why don’t I deserve his compassion?
A choked noise betrayed your scratchy throat, dispelling into the room as something nothing more than a soft wheeze.
Why am I so stupid? What young adult female follows a stranger’s text to a foreign apartment?
Who am I to think that I’m important enough to be a part of any of these people’s lives?
I’m crying.
I’m shaking.
I’m crying… why does no one help?
I don’t deserve help.
I deserve to cry
I deserve to—
Cool hands cupped your face. Your eyes fluttered open. Your salty tears blurred the already dimly lit room.
I’m shaking.
Two golden irises swam into your field of vision, a rosy pair of lips moving, muttering something below.
I’m crying.
Why does no one help me?
Something cool and fleshy knocked against your forehead. Tears still blinded you from seeing anything intelligible.
Though your ears felt full of gauze, fragments of whispered speech made their way towards you.
“…hhhh… —eathe in…. k?”
Your head pounded. The tears shook your already trembling frame. Your temple felt like it might split from the sheer emotional pressure that you still attempted to conceal. What if Seven sees?? Then I’ll really be a burden…
“No…. it out…. –r me, please.”
The hushed timbre of a voice you were best acquainted with through the tinny speaker of a phone suddenly became recognizable.
You forced your watery eyes to open, the tears still unyielding to a fine focused picture. But the renewed mental clarity was enough. He was enough.
"Seven?" You made a feeble attempt to sit up, to compose yourself, to do anything to hide your mortification that he had caught you crying—
His hands immediately tightened their gentle grip on your weak frame, holding you firmly in place.
“I—" Seven paused when your red-rimmed gaze suddenly met his fully. Though you couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t due to your own waterworks, your eyes widened further when you saw his gaze was returned to you with an unmistakable sheen to them as well.
“Please don’t cry…” Seven’s forehead was placed solidly against yours. His nose brushing the snotty tip of yours. His grip tightened minutely. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He whispered hoarsely.
You stilled in his makeshift embrace. Your torrent of emotions building in complexity at this most recent… yet not unwanted – development.
“It’s okay.” You finally decided.
“No, it’s not!” A stricken voice suddenly boomed in front of you, the cool forehead ripped from yours.
You flinched involuntarily, both the sound and the lack of cool pressure allowing your headache to resurface.
“Shit, no, I’m sorry.” Seven brought the corners of his palms to cover his eyes, the sloppy gesture skewing both his glasses and hair in the process. “I’m messing everything up,” he half mumbled to himself.
“…yeah.” You agreed softly without thinking twice.
You both froze.
Seven lowered his palms, his glasses still askew. You raised your eyes, meeting his self-deprecating gaze.
And then, miraculously, your star paths were knocked back into alignment.
The corners of his lips upturned in the gentlest amusement. You supplied your own involuntary grin in endearment to his apparent mirth.
Before you could crack another joke (in an unhealthy attempt to avoid talking about the situation at hand), Seven skillfully schooled his features and stood from the uncomfortable crouch that he had assumed at your side.
“Don’t be alarmed,” He walked to the other side of the bed, “I’m coming in.” The bed dipped; the covers shifted, and a warm presence announced itself behind you.
“Seven…”
“Shh.” You heard the click of his glasses folding as he took them off. A sleeved arm reached over your form and placed them on the bedside table closest to you.
“Seven…?”
“You don’t ever listen to me, do you?” He sighed good-naturally and relaxed his tense posture. His breath tickled the back of your neck. “Is this okay?” He finally whispered.
You allowed yourself a small smile, pleased that the young man felt comfortable enough around you to be vulnerable like this. “God yes.” You breathed shakily.
A soft huff. “God 7, yes.”
You rolled your eyes, forgetting that he wouldn’t be able to see the gesture anyway.
A thick silence fell upon the stuffy room. Your headache pounded mercilessly. Your lungs still struggled to fill to full capacity as your crying fit had effectively blocked your sinuses.
You were miserable.
You were also sad.
And you were confused, tired, a tiny bit irate, just a ton bit mortified, and worst of all, your heart still panged longingly in your hollow chest.
Just when you were about to ask Seven what the plan now was, the man broke the silence.
“You…” He nuzzled just the slightest breadth away from the back of your neck, sheer millimetres between his lips and the soft skin of your neck, “You don’t understand it now…”
Your eyes were trained steadily on the wall in front of you, afraid that if you moved or confronted Seven directly, he would be scared off easily like before.
You waited patiently for him to finish his thought.
A nervous hand brushed against the curve of your waist; a touch so gentle you weren’t entirely sure it was actually there. Deft fingers curved over your side, a silent question that you readily answered by releasing a relaxed sigh and turning your hips slightly back in invitation.
The hand snaked softly around your waist and rested on the bed in front of you, the arm it was attached to now effectively holding you in a spooning embrace. A solid, lithe chest pressed gently against your back. Lips finally caressed the back of your neck.
“…but I’m trying to protect you.”
Your breath hitched.
The arm around your waist squeezed tenderly. The bed dipped again and the embrace dissolved.
Padded footsteps made their way to the door, paused, and then left.
You lay motionless on your side as a lagging tear dropped from the corner of your eye and landed on the bridge of your nose.
.・゜-: ✧ :-  -: ✧ :-゜・.
ahh hope you enjoyed this not-entirely-satisfying fic! It was very cathartic to write, as I used my own experiences with crying in front of someone I loved and then not getting comfort as a tool when writing this. I have a lot of emotional trauma from situations where I was emotionally vulnerable with someone that I trusted/loved, and then they just sat there watching me cry without giving me any sort of comforting touches, embraces, tenderness, or words. ;__; It made me feel very helpless and alone, so while I left this purposefully unresolved, it was important to me to make sure that Seven did provide some comfort and tenderness and love to the reader. He just can't be entirely intimate with the reader/MC just yet, but worry not, he loves her deeply. <33 Please know that you deserve the comfort you seek, and you deserve to be with someone that can provide you with the most basic things that you need depending on your love language. My love language is heavily touch and caress-based, so that is the perspective I wrote from. have a soothing night lovelies xx
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kittae · 5 years
Text
The Talk
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Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader
Side characters: Min Yoongi
Summary: A drabble series where Taehyung is a successful artistic erotica actor but has to expand his areas of expertise in the rapidly evolving world of adult film. Lost and inexperienced in everything that doesn’t involve classy settings, flattering lighting and romantic scripts, he basically has to start from scratch to make it in the online porn community. As a highly demanded A-lister in that community, you take him under your wings (or better yet, between your legs).
Genre: Smut, fluff, a bit of comedy here and there. Maybe some angst, who knows.
words: 1806
A/N: This part is somewhat dialogue heavy!  Also my first attempt at a drabble series, if this is a success i might do this more in the future!
« previous — next »
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“Wait, one more time. You want me to what?”
Yoongi looks like he’s on the verge of a breakdown, what with the way he’s pinching the bridge of his nose so hard his nails leave indents.
“Don’t make me repeat myself three times, Taehyung, you heard me.”
“I’m sorry but hearing and understanding are two entirely different things.”
“It is to you, yes.”
“So let me get this straight,” he murmurs slowly, a pensive look on his face as he paces back and forth through his manager’s living room, “You want me to find a new specialty…”
“Mhmm.” Yoongi nods, eyes closed and brows furrowed as he deeply hopes with all his heart that his client’s thought-process would finally go in the direction of his own.
“...Which is BDSM. You want me to go from what I do now, to BDSM...”
Yoongi wants to cry. Or scream. Or quit. All of the above.
“For the last time, it’s not BDSM. It’s just a little degradation for God’s sake!” He grates through gritted teeth, “Why are you blowing this out of proportion?!”
“I’m not!” The younger man pouts, crossing his arms in front of his chest like a wronged child. “It’s filthy! I’m not doing that shit, I don’t want to!”
‘It doesn’t matter what you want, you little shit! You’re supposed to be a professional!’... Is what Yoongi would really, really like to say right now, but he doesn’t. He knows Taehyung, and this approach would only cement his stubbornness.
“Listen...TaeTae,” He starts after taking a deep breath, his voice soft and smooth in an effort to suppress the growing frustration churning in his chest, “You’re an extremely talented actor and you have so much going for you. All I’m saying is that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to expand your areas of expertise, right? Artistic erotica is great, I’m not saying that it’s not but the numbers are clearly stating that it’s not the most popular– are you even listening to me?!”
“Is this whiskey or perfume?” Taehyung muses as he picks up a fancy bottle from Yoongi’s shelf and opens the stopple to sniff it. He pulls a face. “It’s whiskey.”
Yoongi groans and drags a hand across his face in pure desperation. “Did you not get anything of what I was just trying to tell you?”
“Vas-t-en.” Taehyung says blankly, unimpressed with the kind of face his manager sports.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s French for ‘go away’.” He helpfully states.
“I do not get paid enough for this shit,” Yoongi hisses vehemently, poking a finger in his actor’s well-defined pecs to define every word, “I’m 72 different flavors of done with you.”
Taehyung just starts laughing at his manager’s highly critical stress levels and almost tackles him in a strong back hug, playfully shaking the older, but smaller man, “Aw, c’mon, hyung! Just relax, we’ll be fine! Loosen up a little– Hey, you wanna go to that new karaoke place?! I heard you can customize your hamburgers there!”
“Wow, incredible,” Yoongi stares out in front of him, looking dead inside as he hangs limp in Tae’s arms in acceptance of being his ragdoll, “We could both lose our jobs tomorrow but it’s fine because we can customize our hamburgers at Star Song Karaoke.”
Taehyung finally puts his friend out of his misery by releasing him and putting him back down. “Don’t be overdramatic, why wouldn’t we have jobs tomorrow? Women love artistic porn! It’s pretty, there’s hot guys, the lighting is nice and flattering for both and it focuses on the woman’s pleasure instead of the guy’s. There’s enough of that tasteless shit out there already, why do I have to do it?”
Yoongi’s started massaging his temples to reduce the tension before his head will literally burst.
“Because it��s boring, Taehyung. Women don’t like that purely soft stuff anymore. They like to experiment and broaden their sexual interests and kinks. There’s been a huge increase of clicks on degradation videos by female users on online platforms and I suppose they watch it because they like it. So all I’m asking of you is to try and take this opportunity and go with the flow because this is a fickle business.”
There’s a pause where Taehyung looks like he finally gets the gravity of the situation and is about to say something that would take the weight off of Yoongi’s shoulders, but he knows better than to get his hopes up.
”With all due respect, I’m going to ignore everything you just sai–”
“Say cum dumpster.” Yoongi interrupts.
The younger staggers. “What?”
“Cum dumpster. Say it.”
“No! Why?!”
“You’re hopeless.” Yoongi concludes and thereby also that they’re fucked in the most ironic way of saying so. “Not every woman enjoys your kind of flower power glitter sunshine porn, Taehyung.”
“The women i shoot with enjoy it very much, though.” A cocky grin spreads across Taehyung’s handsome face and Yoongi decides to try one last time.
“What about the women who like to be called sluts and whores in bed but have to resort to bad porn with unattractive and talentless actors to get their share of sexual stimulation? Do you know the value your face holds? The mainstream porn needs that face, Taehyung. There are women out there that need to hear they’re a dirty slut in that deep ass voice of yours. Are you going to deny them that?”
“Woah, hyung! That’s impressive. Did you write this speech in advance?”
“Fine. Whatever, I give up. Do what you want, I don’t care.” Yoongi is so annoyed he starts talking in pout, pursed lips making him sound like an angry toddler. Exhausted to the core, he flops down on the couch with a deep sigh, his arms crossed in front of him as he resorts to brooding in silence.
Taehyung’s smug grin instantly transforms into a rectangular one upon hearing his manager speak like that. He’s entirely incapable of taking him seriously when he’s being like this.
Yoongi feels the weight of Taehyung letting himself fall into the cushions next to him, but chooses to ignore it. He’s still mad he won’t even give it a chance, much less hear him out for real.
Something nudges his arm.
“No.” Is his resolute response.
“Come oooon… You know you want to.” Taehyung sings as his long fingers tickle Yoongi’s.
“I said no.”
But Taehyung’s persistent. “The best way to settle an argument is…?”
“I’m not doing it, go away. Vallan or whatever the fuck it was you said earlier in French.”
“It’s vas-t-en, and I’m not leaving before you hold my hand.”
“You’re an annoying little shit, you know that?” Yoongi grumbles.
“And you’re a grumpy old man, now hold my hand grandpa.”
Yoongi manages to resist for thirty more seconds before he caves and lets Taehyung peel his hand from underneath the folding of his arms. It feels nice; Taehyung’s hands are always big and warm. He instantly feels his blood pressure drop.
“See? Isn’t this nice?” Taehyung beams as he intertwines their fingers tightly, making Yoongi grumble something unintelligible that either sounds like ‘I guess so.’ or ‘Get lost.’ Whichever it may be, he doesn’t make an effort to release himself from Taehyung’s grip, so it’s a win.
“You’re exhausting.” Yoongi mutters but subtly tightens his hold around Tae’s hand. It’s just a thing they do, he doesn’t remember when or why. It just helps to diffuse the tension, somehow. Makes them understand each other better.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Taehyung chuckles, “I should hear you out.”
“You can’t even take me seriously for one minute.”
“I’ll try to now.”
Yoongi hesitates, still irritated about how the younger treated him. He knows this might be his only chance to convince him, however. “Promise me you’ll listen to me. I’ll seriously quit if you don’t.”
“I promise,” Taehyung smiles, giving Yoongi’s hand a little reassuring squeeze.
He sighs, “Alright. Like I said those previous twenty times; artistic erotica is great, it’s beautiful, you’re the best in that category and that’s all dandy. But you have to realize that we’re dealing with a niche category here, not to mention that the production costs are expensive as fuck, which is why we can’t afford to put this on the free online market.”
Yoongi dares to take a peek at his actor’s face, which is often telling of what’s going on in his mind. His full brows are slightly furrowed, lips stretched in a serious line, eyes focused on him; his business face. Good.
“You’re not acting right now, right?” The manager asks for good measure.
“No, not right now.”
“Okay. Are you following?”
“Artistic porn is niche, production costs are expensive, no free online platforms possible. Got it.” Tae shoots him finger guns.
Yoongi’s brows shoot up slightly, coloring himself impressed. He usually can’t hold the guy’s attention for more than twenty seconds. “Uh, great. So what I’m saying is, it wouldn’t hurt to try out some new things we can experiment with to put your name on the mainstream porn market as well. Your networth right now is laughable and our only income comes from the sale of your films and nobody buys hard copies anymore these days.”
“That’s barely enough to cover the production costs anymore. We have to increase your online presence and we have to do it fast before some rookie with a good face and a 7 inch dick takes your place.”
“Mine is 7,5 inches.” Taehyung remarks as if that makes all the difference in the world.
“I- I know, Tae, and that’s uh, very good,” Yoongi awkwardly slips his hand out of Taehyung’s, “You’re a professional with experience, talent and a face and body most people would commit murder for but nobody knows you. Aside from, like, art students and middle-aged women who are still willing to pay fifty bucks for an erotic movie.”
Taehyung nods slowly and it looks like he finally understands the words that come out of Yoongi’s mouth. He looks uneasy, distressed even.  “So...When those people stop buying my films...”
“We’re bankrupt.” Yoongi shrugs, a tight-lipped smile on his face as he watches realisation dawn on Tae’s.
A good few seconds of silence ensue before Taehyung speaks again. “And we’re going to be okay if I...If I do de-degradation?”
Yoongi almost starts to feel sorry for him. “Listen, I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I know you feel safe and confident doing what you do now and that degradation is something else entirely. More like the opposite,” He chuckles sheepishly, “It’ll be completely out of your comfort zone, but we can start with something easier first.”
“something easier?” Taehyung’s interest is piqued.
“I’ve scheduled a shoot for tomorrow,” Yoongi grins mischievously, “I want you to meet someone.”
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Heliotrope masterlist
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izvorposts · 4 years
Text
SnK ch 125 Spoilers Ahead.
About Levi
I haven’t been in the fandom for too long, but SnK has become an addiction (laughs in suicidal) and I want to share my thoughts on the latest chapter, mainly Levi. I know I won’t say anything new, but I have the urge to write about it. 
First off, they’re back, yay! Maybe we can say that 2020 started in a promising way. Maybe.
Second of all, Levi is a burrito and I see way too many people being overly excited about him going back to fighting when/ if he gets better. No. Please, no.  Levi is not a killing machine. There is so much more to him than just being a soldier/ captain. But, let’s start from the beginning.
LOSS
Levi’s life has been heavily permeated with loss and abandonment since he was born. Kuchel died when he was very young, but old enough to remember her. Knowing what having love means and then losing it is devastating. To top that off, when she died, he had nowhere to go, so he just lived for, we don’t know how long, but even if it was just a few days it’s still heavy, his mother’s dead body in a small room in a brothel. After that, Levi gets saved (let’s put it like that) by Kenny, who teaches him how to survive, but eventually (yes, for a sensible reason) he abandons him, too. Levi learns the reason only after it is disclosed by Kenny many years later, but up until that point Levi only knows he was abandoned and that’s it. His life in the Underground can’t have been easy, not matter how skillful a gangster he was. I feel suicidal if there are more than three days in a row with no sunshine, he lived with no light for years. There he has two friends, Farlan and Isabel, whom he also loses after they’d joined Erwin. He’s left with two people he’s close to – Erwin and Hange, and he’s also left with that damn syringe Kenny gave him, which eventually led him to decide who lives and who dies. The syringe was an insane cycle. Levi gets it from Kenny, gives it to Erwin and Erwin now only entrusts Levi with the fucking thing, he also entrusts him with the decision to use it as he see fit. And, yet again, Levi loses the person he deeply cares about – Erwin, just this time it was Levi’s decision. Like, fuck. Now, these are just some major losses in his life, but we can’t forget about his comrades and the life he leads as a soldier.
IDENTITY
For the longest time he lived he was Levi, just Levi, not even knowing his last name. Then he becomes Heichou and Levi Heichou and only later in the story he is someone with full identity – Levi Ackerman. There are many other things that constitute our identity more deeply than our name, but our names are the first things we learn about ourselves. I guess we have them for a reason. Another important part of his identity is Humanity’s Strongest, and while he does deserve it, it’s vital we see beyond it – he’s a human person. It’s also vital to take a look at how much pressure this puts on someone, no matter how mentally strong they are. Having only one person rely on you for something puts you under pressure – let’s try to imagine having entire humanity rely on you for, no less than, giving them freedom. We see Levi fight and we see him live, but the question is – what does he live for? Does he live for himself among other things, or is his every move carefully calculated so he could survive to go to yet another battle? Does he see himself as Humanity’s Strongest and nothing more? His current burrito-like state and the final sentence of the manga sound ominous to me, because no matter how precious someone is for the world, their inability to keep doing something they did for the longest time hopefully won’t make them lose their sense of purpose. We don’t know what is going on in Levi’s head, but for the fans, really, there is so much more depth to him. I hope that, if he can’t fight anymore, he won’t think that this is the end for him, that his purpose is lost, and I sure as hell hope the fandom won’t be disappointed, because:
SELFLESSNESS
What Levi did with Erwin when he let him go was a prime example of selflessness. There was literally nothing in it for Levi except guilt, pain and more loss. Had it been me with that syringe and one of my friends, I’d be like: Bitch, you’re getting the serum and you’re staying because I can’t face yet another loss (this is probably why no one will ever do a manga about me lol jk). Levi lets him go, he lets Erwin find peace, he puts what is most important for Erwin above everything else, himself included. Giving someone up to let them die in peace/ be happy/ find their sense of purpose/ really whatever requires superhuman effort and loads of selflessness and that’s Levi for you.
CARING 
No matter if you only watched the anime or also read the manga, Levi is extremely caring towards his comrades and friends. On countless occasions he stops Mikasa from getting hurt or killed, because she’s incapable of not following her impulse. His priority is to minimize the loss of human life and he does everything he’s capable of to keep his people alive. When Eren was to seal the hole in wall Maria, we see Levi mention Hange’s group and wondering if Hange is alright more than once. He takes care of them like they’re his responsibility, he protects them and he genuinely cares.
PATIENCE
Even though he comes off as impatient and blunt, he actually rocks the role of a teacher. He takes pastor Nick to see for himself what people have gone through and he does the same with Dimo Reeves – he just talks to them, no aggression, no threats. He lets people choose, and this is really something I admire about him; he lets Eren make a choice when they face the Female Titan for the first time. He keeps saying that no one can know what the right choice is, he doesn’t force people to do as he says (okay, a small exception being Historia becoming queen).
EMOTIONAL and COMPASSIONATE
Yeah, not the first adjective you’d associate to Levi, but let’s remember his reaction when they all learn that the titans are actually humans, when he realizes he’d been killing humans all along. His reaction to Petra’s dad when they come back after fighting the Female Titan. The fact that he collected Ivan’s patch and what he told Dieter and Jurgen.
BRAVE
Okay, no need to overanalyze this, obviously, the man is the epitome of bravery, but he’s the one who assumes responsibility for Eren, when we just learn Eren can become a titan, before anyone, Eren included, knew what he, as a titan, could do. And it’s also Levi who guards Zeke, and we all know how well that ended for Levi.
MODEST
Levi doesn’t claim that he knows what the best or the right thing to do is in many situations. We don’t hear him speak a lot, but he does say more than once: “Who’s to say what the right choice is.” “Make a choice you’ll regret least”, etc. He doesn’t try to enforce (again, the situation with Historia is an exception) his views on anyone.
And so on and so forth.
So, wouldn’t you agree that it’s been enough, that he deserves to keep living in peace? I’m afraid that he’s one of the most underappreciated characters in SnK, and I claim that he’s the most tragic one, and making him a one-dimensional killing machine simply isn’t fair. Levi is a deep, multi-leveled character and he deserves all the appreciation we can give him. And I can’t emphasize this enough - he’s human.
If Levi can’t fight anymore, his role won’t be any less vital - he’s already done a fuckton of things for humanity, maybe more than anyone, both as a soldier and as a person.
He deserves happiness and peace, he’s got Hange by his side (if I’m inspired and not lazy I might write a few things about Hange these days, I feel they’re also quite underappreciated), which is a good start. Levi is comprised of unbelievably many qualities we don’t see in people too often, please pay more attention to him.
I will wholeheartedly support fanart and fanfics that give Levi and Hange happiness and if I do write more fanfic, I solemnly swear the two will always be happy. And if it’s okay to ask, Isayama, please, do the same. 
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marveicinematics · 4 years
Text
must have been destiny (steve x reader)
Summary : You were lucky enough to meet him at the right place and at the right time. Things had been different, since then, but you couldn’t help to worry when he didn’t show up as he said.
Pairing : Steve Rogers x female reader.
Words : 1,054
TW : Mostly fluff. Mention of harassing, make-out session.
Note : First time writing about Steve, he had to be a sweetheart, because he is just... that kind of men, you know. Next time, I may try something new!
You can still check the “submit new stories” button on my page if you have a request!
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He had been there for you since day one. Since that night, when he saved you from this assailant, at the bus stop. He wasn’t even trying to be a hero, for once. No shield and no super-hero costume. He just did what seemed right in the moment.
You felt so lucky that night. What were the odds for Captain America to be walking by, right when you started screaming for help? Destiny. That what it must have been.
And since then, the hero kept showing up to your place, or calling you, just to make sure you were okay. He insisted on you calling him Steve, you teased it on how he were trying to make you his new friend for no reasons. But deep down, you knew he just cared. He was worried, incapable of forgetting the way you looked at him, that night. Scared, terrified even.
He called you this morning, telling you about how he would be stopping by your place after his next mission. He just didn’t know exactly when, but you knew he’d come. Except he didn’t. Hours past by, and you stayed up, sitting on your couch, waiting for him. You knew he’d come. You ended up falling asleep on the couch, hurt deep down, but there was no way you would ever admit it.
4 AM. A knock on the door woke you up by surprise. You were still a little stressed from the scary night you went through, and hearing someone at your door in the middle of the night wasn’t helping. Hands shaking, you still walked to the door, being very careful.
« Who is it? » You asked, loud enough so your voice would reach the person behind the door, and make you seem confident and strong - everything that you were not, at least not tonight.
« It’s Steve. I’m sorry, I know it’s late. »
You could recognize his voice, thankfully. Opening the door, you looked at him. He had this ‘Sorry I disappointed you’ look on his face, but you couldn’t help but feel grateful for his presence. Letting him enter your small apartment, you carefully closed the door behind him, before facing him.
« Long night? » You simply asked.
Steve nodded. You knew his life must have been complicated. After all, he was a super-hero, a World War II soldier and an Avenger. Clearly, the fact that you were constantly waiting for him to talk to you or come meet you was a bit silly.
You sat down on the couch, running your hand through your messy hair, and Steve sat next to you.
« How are you doing, today? » He asked, looking at you.
« You really don’t have to do that, you know it. Right? »
Steve looked surprised by your question. He frowned, shaking his head.
« What do you mean? Taking care of you? »
You didn’t have time to answer, but you slightly nodded, and Steve starting speaking again, as if he knew exactly what was on your mind.
« I don’t have to do, I know. You are not one of my mission, I just care for you, alright? »
You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his before you softly smile.
« You care? »
« You didn’t realize it sooner? »
The thing was, you didn’t really know what things were like, for him. Was taking care of you part of the job? Of his super-hero mission?
« I’m not here as Captain America, I’m just… Steve Rogers, a man who cares for you. » He said, once again anticipating your fears and questions.
« So, does that make me your friend? » You couldn’t help but ask.
« Something like that. Though I do not show up in the middle of the night at my friends’ place. »
You giggled as he grinned, his eyes still looking at your face as if he was trying to understand what you were thinking, every single time.
« Maybe, just maybe, that could mean you are a little more than just a friend to me. »
Your cheeks turned red at his words, and you couldn’t find the strength to look at him straight in his eyes. You must have been way too tired to think he was implying anything like what you had in mind. Still looking around you, quietly, you felt Steve move on the couch, sitting closer to you. You turned your face to face him, wondering why he came so close to you. And before you even got a chance to look at his face, you felt his lips pressed against yours.
You must have been dreaming, you kept thinking. There was no way Steve Rogers was kissing you. You didn’t pull away, realizing how much you had been craving for this move. This one move you would have never dare to make. But he did. One of his hand grabbed your face, pulling you closer to his as he deepened the kiss. Everything in the way he was kissing you could only prove to you how much he must have been thinking about this, even before kissing you.
« Steve… » You murmur against his lips, and he smiles from the way you say his name, as if it meant something different coming from you than from anyone else.
« Come closer. »
You did as he asked, straddling his lap while your lips found his again, initiating a new kiss. His arms around you, holding you close to his body, he kissed you again and again, only giving you a break to catch his own breath, before kissing you again. His tongue found his way to yours, still in the most gentle way, and your hands danced in his blond hair for long minutes. And you could have stayed there all night long, kissing him as if you were trying to remember the taste of his lips forever.
After a while, Steve kissed your cheek and smiled at you, your body and his still as close as could be.
« Should you go get some rest? » He asked.
You nodded, knowing deep down that you needed some sleep, and that your super-hero probably had some other things to do, outside from kissing you all night long.
« And so should you. » You answered in a whisper.
Steve kissed your forehead, his soft smile never leaving his angel-like face.
« Do you mind if I stay the night? »
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sincerly-kate · 5 years
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Falling Skies (Crowley x Fem!Reader)
A/n: Hello! So I’ve decided to start writing on here, and I hope that you guys like it and feel free to let me know about any requests or ideas that you’d like me to write in the future, enjoy! Also thank you to @ourownsideimagines for getting me out of my writers block!💙💙
Warnings:Slight angst, fluff ending and kinda swearing?
Summary: Crowley and Y/n have known each other since before his fall. Unknowingly to the other, they both ended up falling for the other over time. Crowley responds to this in his own ways, but what happens when Armageddon starts and they both need to pick a side?
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Y/n; the sister to the archangel Gabriel. Some may say that this had its perks and that she could get away with whatever she wanted whenever she wanted; the ones who said this obviously didn’t know Gabriel very well. If anything, she was kept under a much more watchful eye. In y/n’s eyes, this was so she didn’t hurt his perfect reputation up in heaven. There was only two people in the entire world that truly knew y/n.
An angel named Aziraphale, that was more of a brother to her than her actual archangel brother ever could ever be,
and a certain demon named Crowley.
unknown to the other, they both shared feelings for the other.  And as one normally does, they both decided to ignore this feeling.
The three of them have known each other for about 6000 years, and over the years they’ve seen each other through it all.
From the garden of Eden to modern day, they became a trio of unlikely friends. but if it came down to it, they would be sacrifice themselves for the other when it came down to it.
Right now, you and Aziraphale were in his bookshop. You were there to keep him company, while Aziraphale on the other hand was trying to find a certain object that he refused to tell you about.
"Y/n? Are you quite alright dear?" you were snapped out of your thoughts by a certain blonde haired friend of yours.
“Oh,” You turned your head towards Aziraphale, “I’m fine.” You moved your head from the palm of your hand that you had it resting on and gave him a thin lined smile.
Aziraphale gave you one of his knowing looks, he knows you were lying but he knew you didn’t mean any harm by it; that’s just the way you were.
No thanks to Gabriel and the others, you always kept your thought and feeling to yourself. You were always told that they were a sign of weakness.
You sighed and pushed yourself off the couch and walked towards the bookshelf Aziraphale was in front of.
“Now, I think both of us know that far from the truth.” He gave you a sympathetic smile before taking his attention from the shelf, and to you.
You sighed and leaned against the shelf and looked to the ground in defeat. ‘Damnit, he knows me too well for my own good.’ You thought.
“Now, are you going to tell me why you were daydreaming about Crowley, or are you going to lie?” He said bluntly, not even phased by your cheeks suddenly turning a bright pink. You then straightened out your back, and tried to may your way towards the door.
“Uh- erm. I-I don’t know what your talking about Az…” As you slowly sauntered towards the door to make an exit with at least some of your confidence intact, a force decided otherwise and pulled you backwards by your jacket.
“Dear, you are not leaving until you tell me what’s going on between you two. I may be oblivious at times, but I’m not blind.”
You turned around, to look your ethereal friend in the face. You sighed and then began to speak, “He hates me, I just know it Az! In all of my centuries existing, I’ve never once done anything to him! One day he wants to talk to me and then the next he wants nothing to do with me. He wouldn’t even care if I didn’t even exist.” Your voice becoming lower and lower as you continued.
A book then slammed onto the table, “Y/N! In all my millennia of knowing you and Crowley, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else look at another like the way you two do.” You jumped at not only the sudden noise, but also his words.
Crowley; in love with you?
You don’t think you’ve heard anything more impossible.
“Goodbye Aziraphale.” You said in a monotone, as you walked out of the shop; but this time he let you.
As your face confronted the cold air, you headed into the direction of your flat. Once you were halfway there, you got shoved by one of the pedestrians on the sidewalk.
You turn around to confront them, “Hey! Watch it!” but by the time you turned around all you could see is what looks like to be the older man in an army jacket who was already halfway down the street, and seemed to be heading in the same direction as the bookshop.
-
You were just about to have a nap when you suddenly got a phone call from the demon himself. You picked it up, and before you could tell him off for ignoring you for the past five days, he started to talk.
“Y/n, I need you to meet me at the Tadfield air base. Now.” You could hear something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.
“Crowley, if this is one of your little-” once again; you were interrupted.
“No, seriously angel, I need your help.” You knew it must’ve been serious if he was actually asking, nearly begging, for your help.
“Alright, is Aziraphale coming with us?”
“… no Y/n...” By his tone and lack of nickname, you could tell that something must’ve happened, but you decided you’d ask him once you got to the air base.
“Alright, I’m on my way.”
-
Once you had gotten to the air base, you noticed two other individuals were at the gate as well. This made you confused as to why they would be at the air base, that was supposedly abandoned from what you could see.
“Hello?” You tried getting their attention and hopefully some answers, but as they turned around you noticed that one of them looked familiar.
“Hey! You were that idiot who almost knocked me over!”  you started to aggressively stomp towards him, but a female's hand had stopped you, and spared the gentleman from your wrath.
“Lady, I’m going to have to ask you to get that hand of yours off of me!” you shoved her hand off you, and what happened next will still confuse you till the end of time.
“Y/n dear, I’m going to have to refrain you from harming that man.” Aziraphale’s voice then suddenly coming out of the mystery woman.
“A-Az?” Your brain was incapable of processing what the hell was going on, but before you could ask, a certain Bentley that was engulfed in flames and the sound of Queen coming out of it was turning towards the base.
You were still speechless by the time Crowley got out of his Bentley,
“Hey, Aziraphale! I see you found a ride. Nice dress. It suits you.”
Your head then turns towards ‘Aziraphale’ with a more than confused expression, he waved it off and said he’d explain it to you later.
Once you guys got into the base, you could already see the four horsemen, and in front of them were four… children?
Upon closer inspection, you finally realized that one of the children was standing out most to you.
“Is that? -” You pointed to the child,
“Yes, that’s the antichrist, get with the program here!” Crowley said to you with an underlying irritated tone.
That just pissed you off more.
“Oh, that’s IT!” You then turned your body around to tell him off; screw Armageddon; he was pissing you off. Unfortunately, ‘Aziraphale’ stood in front of you to stop you.
“C’mon dear, don’t do something you’ll regret.” He then guided you towards the children and the horsemen, but also knowing damn well you wouldn’t actually harm him.
-
Somehow, the children and the Antichrist who you found out eventually was named Adam, got rid of the horsemen. You were about to turn around and head back to your flat, until you heard a wretched voice.
“Y/n! Good to see you, shouldn’t you be in heaven with the other angels?” Gabriel said to you, his voice was laced with an undertone of annoyance and his violet eyes filled with fury, seeing that you were quite literally in between another angel and a demon, both that have been giving him issues since who knows when.
You felt yourself shrink into yourself, and feel your white wings become exposed as you were about to fly up.
But something stopped you, or more like someone.
Crowley was holding your hand and keeping you from leaving again, especially since he realized he’d have to fight you if Armageddon was to start. He would rather be discorporated then fight you in what he’d know would become the death of both of you.
“No, she’s not going anywhere, especially with you.” Crowley then for once stood up to Gabriel, you never thought that in your life he would do that; especially for you.
You were completely shocked but felt a warm feeling that he would even dare stand up to him for you, but I guess what has he got to lose if the end of the world starts in a few minutes?
“Fine then, you win then!” You were confused as to what he meant, until you started to hear a high pitched scream.
You then realized that this scream was yours.
Your back was burning, and you let go of Crowley’s hand as you fell to the solid ground underneath you, and both of your hands went to your back; more specifically your wings.
You then your vision was becoming darker and darker, but before you completely passed out, you heard Crowley and Aziraphale scream for your name.
-
Once you came back to your senses, you tried to stand up, but your back felt as if it was on fire, so you fell back onto the bed.
This caused you to let out a groan from pain, and this also alerted the two beings that were in the other room.
“Angel?” You heard Crowley’s voice coming from the other room and the sudden sound of two pairs of feet making their way towards you. Crowley then turned the corner with Aziraphale in his own body in tow.
“Angel, you’re alright.” He then came up to you with relief filling both of your faces, he then grabbed both sides both your face and kissed you with a passion you never knew he had for you.
You started to kiss him back, tasting some of the salt from tears that were falling from both your faces as you both then pulled away, realizing you weren’t quite alone.
“FINALLY!” You both hear Aziraphale yell, as he makes his way out of the room to give you both privacy to talk.
You laughed at him, but then a sudden jolt of pain stopped you from laughing harder. You tried to grab for your wings, but Crowley’s hand stopped you from doing so.
“Don’t worry Y/n, we’ll get him back for what that bastard did to you, even it’s the last thing I ever do.” He kisses your hand, as you turn around to see your now broken, burnt, pure black wings behind you.
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ainomica · 4 years
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Why chris fcking clowass terrio isn't talking about Ben in his stupid interviews? Everything is about Rey Luke Leia is like Ben never existed. I'm trying to stay away from sw fandom after tros because I don't wanna take anymore negativity I'm so tired and heartbroken and this talentless dumbass want shut up. Why they created comic about Ben where they wobbifying him and than just treat him like a disposal toilet paper? Also he's blaming everyone for tros, from rian to death of carrie! Hate him
Hey! 
You know not to sound to RPF but...i mean of someone of Terrio’s background  people can only  turn out to be of two types -- one is either they are hyper aware of their inadequacy and advantages and try their best to stay humble to succeed or they become arrogant jerks who think they are born special because how easy life has been to them about everything. Terrio unfortunately turned out to be the latter. 
He was born into a rich family who could afford to send him to one prestigious school after another where he dickers around what he wants to do each time jumping from English, German phonelogy to then philosophy and the fooking Film school! you would think after having such extensive education he would find SW a piece of cake because how simple its philosophy to story translation is?? Nah man, Nah!
His pendatic worrying over whether his award winning adaptation of Argo having period appropriate Gatorade joke tells me he is to absorbed in dumb details which any beta reader can check for him than to understand where his scene is going and what it all means in the end. Argo was already a written book, he didn’t have to worry about his themes because the original writer already did that for him. His stratospheric success for adaptation of Argos probably makes him think he is the hottest shit on the planet and he could ace even original content writing too. Failing twice already was not enough to give him pause at all.
So publicly pretending that he shouldn’t be ashamed to admit he cannot work with so many hints and radicals post TLJ and blaming everyone who is either not involved, were gracious or outright dead for his writing incapabilities just tells us that he is too egotistical like Benioff and Weiss who used to blame Martin everytime their story got any backlash for anything ( and hog credit when it didn’t) . The similarity is too astounding. Just like Benioff and Weiss, he starts out sounding smart and profound too but when told to explain what he did, he also fails to make any sense.
The way he talks about Rey, you can tell he is fixated on her with madonna whore complex and wants to use her as his self insert. Everything in this story has to be about him/her. Every conflict, every plotline has to serve him. No one is allowed to exist beyond pleasing him or validating him, and he is going to write a fetch quest where he shows how much he is worthy of inserting himself into this saga where in the end Luke and Leia, his favorite skywalkers would pat him on the back and he can call himself a Skywalker too!
Its the ultimate fantasy! 
I remember Darth Tantrum once made a post about “Generic Resistance pilot” to embody everything she realized Reddit and other dumb fans wanted Ben to be, Terrio just pushed all that fantasy for himself and projected on Rey. Instead of the female fantasy where the patriarchy validates Rey because how nice she is without her asking for it in TFA,  Terrio wants to show audience he/she is worthy so they made a quest story where they can basically convince the world too hence all the dumb training sequence and Rey vowing to be worthy of a murder’s weapon.  This is not for the audience its for him so that his insert can be loved by the audience. 
The fact that he , without any shame says things like “Han took one look at her and chose her as his heir” and “she is Moses” and “jedi say they are her ancestor now” when none of these things are canon, belies the fact he is writing Rey as insert all this time. This is why you do right?? when you right inserts?/ everyone loves you, everyone adores you , you become the center of attention of the plot, you have the only problem of how to handle how good you are everyday as “conflict”.
A Mary Sue. 
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Rey was sufficiently blank enough and generic enough for them to project. Kylo was not. He is “too messy” to use Terrio’s own words. He made so much mess, he is messy too on the account having a personality which he cannot use. Self inserts have to be personality less , you see and after RJ went away with clearing the board for Rey to be build up they filled her with OT memorabilia like a barbie doll instead. Their lack of appreciation for nuance also made sure they could never project on Ben and write Rey like a fleshed character and sidelined him into his own story but Lucas’s skeleton held on and he ended up being the only character with actual heroic development. Also Ford and Driver saw the writing on the wall and stubborn goats that they are, decided that they would do the best what they can of themselves because their writers cannot clearly see. 
Its literally like GoT where the story tried so hard to sell the villainous turn of Starks and their f*cked up ending as happy while they killed the real hero. They did the same thing with Rey and everyone else they tried to focus on. 
Honestly, i cannot imagine a writer whose writing capability is equal to of a 14 year old child writing their first self insert in FF.net be allowed to do it with a 300 million dollar budget and power to alienate an entire beta reading team at their leisure. No wonder he thinks he is the mightiest of them all and can say whatever bullshit he wants. He has suffered no consequences of being incompetent as an original content creator at all. 
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