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bamf-jaskier · 2 years

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Who the fuck is Keira Metz - a Primer

Keira Metz was one of the youngest sorceresses, a member of the Lodge, and a fierce fighter who sided with the Northern mages at Thanedd. She is mentioned in Blood of Elves and appears in Time of Contempt, Baptism of Fire, and Lady of the Lake.

If you are interested in Witcher book content and have questions or just want to chat about them, I made an 18+ discord server here for anyone to join :)

With that, Hi! I’m Aaliyah and this is Part 9 of my WTF series --- a crash course in subjects from The Witcher Books.

Book Spoilers (duh)

Okay, so let me start out by saying Keira has a special place in my heart because she is one of the most ready to fight and crass sorceresses. She is ready to tussle at any given moment and I love that about her. If this was an anime she is the shonen protagonist.

While she’s mentioned in Blood of Elves, we first meet her at the Banquet at Thanedd. Which, if you don’t know a lot about you can read a summary here.

I’m trying not to just put long quotes in these posts but I have to just show y’all this scene where Marti and Keira are talking to Geralt because it shows so much about her character:

Before the Witcher had regained the power of speech, a short, slim sorceress with long, straight, straw-coloured hair came over to him. He recognised her at once–she was the one in the horned agama skin slippers and the green tulle top, which didn’t even cover a minor detail like the small mole above her left breast.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I have to interrupt your little flirting session, Philippa. Radcliffe and Detmold would like to talk to you for a moment. It’s urgent.’

‘Well, if it’s like that, I’m coming. Bye, Geralt. We’ll continue our flirting later!’

‘Ah,’ said the blonde, sizing him up. ‘Geralt. The Witcher, the man Yennefer lost her head over? I’ve been watching you and wondering who you might be. It was tormenting me terribly.’

‘I know that kind of torment,’ he replied, smiling politely. ‘I’m experiencing it right now.’

‘Do excuse the gaffe. I’m Keira Metz. Oh, caviar!’

‘Be careful. It’s an illusion.’

‘Bloody hell, you’re right!’ said the sorceress, dropping the spoon as though it was the tail of a black scorpion. ‘Who was so barefaced… You? Can you create fourth-level illusions?’

‘I,’ he lied, continuing to smile, ‘am incognito. Do you think Yennefer would bother with an ordinary witcher?’

Keira Metz looked him straight in the eyes and scowled. She was wearing a medallion in the form of an ankh cross; silver and set with zircon.

‘A drop of wine?’ he suggested, trying to break the awkward silence. He was afraid his joke hadn’t been well received.

‘No thank you… O fellow master,’ said Keira icily. ‘I don’t drink. I can’t. I plan to get pregnant tonight.’

‘By whom?’ asked the fake-redheaded friend of Sabrina Glevissig, who was dressed in a transparent, white, georgette blouse, decorated with cleverly positioned details, walking over to them. ‘By whom?’ she repeated, innocently fluttering her long eyelashes.

Keira turned and gave her an up-and-down glare, from her white iguana slippers to her pearl-encrusted tiara.

‘What business is it of yours?’

‘It isn’t. Professional curiosity. Won’t you introduce me to your companion, the famous Geralt of Rivia?’

‘With great reluctance. But I know I won’t be able to fob you off. Geralt, this is Marti Södergren, seductress. Her speciality is aphrodisiacs.’

‘Careful,’ chorused Keira and the Witcher. ‘It’s an illusion.’

‘So it is!’ said Marti Södergren, leaning over and wrinkling her nose, after which she picked up a goblet and looked at the traces of crimson lipstick on it. ‘Ah, Philippa Eilhart. I should have known. Who else would have dared to do something so brazen? That revolting snake. Did you know she spies for Vizimir of Redania?’

‘And is a nymphomaniac?’ risked the Witcher. Marti and Keira snorted in unison.

‘Is that what you were counting on, fawning over her and flirting with her?’ asked the seductress. ‘If so, you ought to know someone’s played a mean trick on you. Philippa lost her taste for men some time ago.’

‘But perhaps you’re really a woman?’ asked Keira Metz, pouting her glistening lips. ‘Perhaps you’re only pretending to be a man, my fellow master of magic? To remain incognito? Do you know, Marti, he confessed a moment ago that he likes to pretend.’

Basically, Keira is a menace and I love her for that. She makes up this entire excuse about why she can’t drink as a reason for her to be sober during the Coup and won’t stop taunting poor Geralt who didn’t ask to be here and just wants to support his goth wife.

During the Coup, Keira is once more an absolutely violent menace.

The light which made the details visible emanated from an orb suspended above Keira Metz’s head–a sorceress with whom Geralt had been chatting at the banquet the previous evening. He barely recognised her; she had exchanged her flowing tulle for severe male clothing, and she had a dagger at her side

‘Handcuff him,’ she ordered curtly. A set of handcuffs made of a bluish metal clinked in her hand.

‘Don’t you dare put those on me!’ yelled Terranova. ‘Don’t you dare, Metz! I am a member of the Chapter!’

‘You were. Now you’re a common traitor. And you will be treated as such.’

‘And you’re a lousy whore, who—’

Keira took a step back, swayed her hips and punched him in the face with all her strength. The sorcerer’s head jerked backwards so hard that for a moment Geralt thought it would be torn from his trunk. Terranova lolled in the arms of the men holding him, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. The sorceress didn’t strike him a second time, though her fist was raised. The Witcher saw the flash of brass knuckles on her fingers. He wasn’t surprised. Keira was very lightly built, and a blow like that couldn’t have been dealt with a bare fist.

She punches Terranova in the face with brass knuckles on. And it gets even more wild. Because later in the coup Geralt runs into Keira again.

‘He managed to get to the foot of the palace wall undetected and had been looking for a way in when Keira had fallen on him, and the two of them tumbled into some blackthorn bushes.

‘I’ve lost a tooth,’ said the sorceress, gloomily, lisping slightly. She was dishevelled, dirty and covere in plaster and soot. There was a large bruise on her cheek. ‘And I think I’ve broken my leg,’ she added, spitting blood. ‘Is that you, Witcher? Did I land on you? How come?’

‘I was wondering the same thing myself.’

‘Terranova threw me out of a window.’

‘Can you stand?’

‘No, I can’t.’

‘I want to get inside. Unnoticed. Which way is it?’

‘Are all witchers,’ said Keira, spitting blood again, groaning, and trying to prop herself up on an elbow, ‘insane? There’s a battle going on in Garstang! It’s kicking off so badly the plaster’s falling off the ceiling! Are you looking for trouble?’

‘No. I’m looking for Yennefer.’

‘Oh!’ said Keira, giving up her struggles and lying on her back. ‘I wish someone would love me like that. Carry me.’

‘Another time, perhaps. I’m in a bit of a hurry.’ ‘Carry me, I said! I’ll show you the way into Garstang. I have to get that son of a bitch Terranova. Well, what are you waiting for? You won’t find the way yourself, and even if you did, those fucking elves would finish you off… I can’t walk, but I’m still capable of casting a few spells. If anyone gets in our way they’ll regret it.’

I cannot stress how wild this series of events is. Geralt is looking for his goth wife. And then Keira FALLS on him from a window, breaks her leg so much so that the bone is sticking out and proceeds to convince Geralt that he has to carry her back to the battle while she shoots off spells. This is a woman who lives for the fight, who will not quit.

And this love of the fight is seen through the rest of the books as well. In Lady of the Lake, when talking about hunting down Vilgefortz, Keira gets quite a bit more crass than most sorceresses often do:

‘Thus, we’ll have a perfect opportunity,’ Keira Metz called in an excited voice, ‘to rescue Ciri and strike at Vilgefortz at the same time. We’ll scorch the ground beneath the rascal’s arse!’

And the visual of this scene also from Lady of the Lake:

Keira Metz appeared standing behind Sabrina’s back, looking like the purest hell with camouflage painted on her face.

Let’s just say if the Lodge has a fistfight, no magic, my money is on Keira.

Then, of course, she ends up joining the Lodge in Baptism of Fire and this is where I want to mention the narrative ties between Keira and Triss. Because they are both the youngest of the sorceresses and they are constantly paired together whether that’s on mission or sitting next to each other or being grouped together.

Even in Blood of Elves, when Triss is talking about the war while visiting Kaer Morhen, she brings up Keira as her contemporary.

‘That’s why I’m on Foltest of Temeria’s council and sit with Fercart and Keira Metz. We deliberate on how to stop war from breaking out and, should it come to it, how to defend ourselves. Because war is constantly hovering over us like a vulture. For you it’s an adventure.’

Her and Triss both judge Assire, a Nilfgaardian sorceress, together:

‘Bloody hell,’ Keira muttered, wiping her forehead. ‘Haven’t they heard of glamarye or beautifying spells down in Nilfgaard?’

‘Apparently not,’ said Triss out of the corner of her mouth. ‘They don’t seem to have heard of fashion either.’

Rita flat out states they are the youngest:

“Rule me out, rule out Keira and Triss even, the youngest among us.”

As I said, they often sit next to each other:

Opposite Fringilla Vigo sat Triss Merigold in a bright blue, high-necked dress. Next to Triss sat Keira Metz, who remained in the shadows. Her large earrings held faceted citrines that flashed again and again with a thousand twinkles, attracting the eye.

And are assigned missions together:

“No, I have not forgotten. If there is going to be a legend, one must have the proper version and one in our favour. I’ll entrust this task to you, Sabrina. Take Keira and Triss and take care of it. See that no trace is left.”

I am mentioning this because when I made my Coën post back before S2 came out I talked about how Lambert and Coën have this sort of narrative foil vibe where they are both witchers of similar ages but vastly different temperaments and people did not seem to see it. And then S2 came in hot with the Lambert and Coën so I’m just saying don’t be surprised if a similar thing happens here. ((I felt SO vindicated by S2 because no one listened to me when I talked about hose those two have untapped potential and I was RIGHT)

Keira ends up voting against Ciri when the Lodge is voting on whether or not they should let Ciri go after Geralt in the last book --- because she doesn’t think Ciri has any real interest in The Lodge -- and she’s fairly correct, but Keira doesn’t really have any personal connection to Ciri. From Lady of the Lake:

‘I’m against it,’ said Keira Metz. ‘For purely practical reasons. I also like the girl and Geralt delivered me out of the hands of danger on Thanedd. It is a sentiment that I long ago got rid of, but I do not deny that it was pleasant to me. I could repay him this way. But will not. Because you are wrong, Sabrina. This girl is a witcheress and is trying to be smarter than us. In short, she is just trying to get away.’

She’s never as passionate about Ciri as many of the others such as Triss, Philippa, and Rita. Keira really is with The Lodge because she wants to kick some ass and come out on top.

I think Keira is a very fascinating character because she’s much more crude and excited to get her hands dirty than Northern sorceresses are expected to be. She doesn’t have the extremely high femininity performance of the others but at the same time she stills judges Fringilla and Assire and is still very shallow.

Overall, she’s a really spunky and upbeat character with brass knuckles she is not afraid to use.

Another post for one of my fav artsist @thence-we-came-forth may all your dreams of Lodge character art come true!!!

#keira metz #the witcher #the witcher books #baptism of fire #lady of the lake #the Lodge #time of contempt #andrzej sapkowski #sapko #myposts #FOR ALL THE MHA FANS KEIRA HAS DEKU VIBES #She is literally a shonen protagonist #I will take no criticism on this point

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weeple · 23 days

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We were sitting in a circle on the floor, like children in kindergarten just talking about what ever came to mind. We got on the topic of eye colours and it was remarked by the majority of the group that I have blue eyes. I was confused as I don’t have blue eyes but he was the first to point out that I have hazel eyes, and to my surprise he elaborated on a thought that only I had thought before, that my eyes matched my hair. A small detail but no one else has seemed to notice or at least mention it before. I stare at myself in the mirror for much too long so it only makes sense that I would notice silly little things like how my brassy dirty blond hair matches my gilded green and brown eyes.

He looked at me through my eyes and called me handsome with a smile on his face. I’ve only ever been called pretty; and not often at that. I don’t much like being called pretty, it’s usually only said to me because they don’t know what else to call me. They think I’m a girl and what girl doesn’t want to be called pretty? Maybe I’d like it more if it didn’t feel like they were lying through their teeth. Maybe I’d like it more if they were saying it cause I was pretty like a boy, not like how you call a girl pretty. When he called me handsome I shut down, completely struck that almost out of the blue this sincere, observation? Compliment? I’m not sure, would be said to me and by him no less. He even made note of how I shut down with a chuckle. He is too observant for his own good. I fear he will look too closely and see how sincerely I care about him.

He went on to say many more small things throughout the night that meant so much to me.

Then he went on to break my heart that night but not from anything he said. Nothing I said either. I don’t think it was his fault and just to keep my sliver of hope I like to think that I must have been mistaken and I will hear all about what actually happened. I hope he had a good night regardless.

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anthony-sharma · 9 months

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Six of Crows Reread - Ch. 21

Chapter 21: Inej

"Was the Ferolind already waiting at the docks, snug in its berth, flying its Kerch flag and the distinctive orange and green parti-colour of the Haanraadt Bay Company? If the plan went the way Kaz hoped, tomorrow night they would stroll down the Djerholm quay with Bo Yul-Bayur in tow, hop on their ship, and be far out to sea before anyone in Fjerda was the wiser. She preferred not to think of what tomorrow night might look like if the plan went wrong."

"Before anyone in Fjerda was the wiser"? Oh my darling Inej, you have another thing coming. ALL of Fjerda (and neighboring countries) will know of this.

Jesper opened the book and peered at the last page, puzzled. “So?”

“Hold it up so we don’t have to look at your ugly face.”

“My face has character. Besides – oh!”

“An excellent read, isn’t it?”

“Who knew I had a taste for literature?”

Jesper passed it to Wylan, who took it tentatively. “What does it say?”

I don't know about the rest of you but when I first read this part, I didn't catch onto the meaning of "What does it say?" until way later when it is discovered that Wylan can't actually read. And the fact that the first person he asks is Jesper makes me wonder if he trusted him since way before we realized he did or if it was just a genuine question of wanting to know what the book said.

"Nina passed the book to Inej. “The driver is going to notice six more prisoners when he opens the door.”

“If only I’d thought of that,” Kaz said drily. “I can tell you’ve never picked a pocket.”

“And I can tell you’ve never given enough thought to your haircut.”

Kaz frowned and ran a self-conscious hand along the side of his head. “There’s nothing wrong with my haircut that can’t be fixed by four million kruge.”

It's so funny to me how Kaz can be the most serious, unfazed person ever, but the moment Nina mentions his haircut he becomes self-conscious?

“Nor will you ever be,” Kaz said easily. “Remember our friend Mark?” Wylan winced. “Let’s say the mark is a tourist walking through the Barrel. He’s heard it’s a good place to get rolled, so he keeps patting his wallet, making sure it’s there, congratulating himself on just how alert and cautious he’s being. No fool he. Of course every time he pats his back pocket or the front of his coat, what is he doing? He’s telling every thief on the Stave exactly where he keeps his scrub.”

“Saints,” grumbled Nina. “I’ve probably done that.”

Now everytime I'm walking in a new city, or in a busy place, full of tourists, this piece of the book never leaves my mind. And when I catch myself patting my pockets I have to consciously remind myself not to do it, because the Kaz Brekkers of the world would already be pickpocketing me.

“This must be hard for you,” she said quietly. “To be here but not really be home.” He looked down at his cup. “You have no idea.”

“I think I do. I haven’t seen my home in a long time.”

Kaz turned away and began chatting with Jesper. He seemed to do that whenever she mentioned going back to Ravka. Of course, Inej couldn’t be certain she’d find her parents there. Suli were travellers. For them, ‘home’ really just meant family.

I love it how so early in the books, little snippets and details let us know how much Kaz treasures Inej (and her skills, too) that he can't bear the thought of her going back home. Which makes it all the more sentimental at the end of CK that he gives her a ship and her parents, basically letting her leave and come back when (or if) she pleases.

“So why do your eyes keep searching the crowd for her?”

“They do not,” Matthias protested. She had to laugh at the ferocity of his scowl. He drew a finger through a pile of crumbs. “Nina is everything you say. It’s too much.”

“Mmm,” Inej murmured, taking a sip from her mug. “Maybe you’re just not enough.”

Before he could reply, the bell on the bakery door jingled, and Nina sailed inside, cheeks rosy, brown hair in a gorgeous tangle, and declared, “Someone needs to start feeding me sweet rolls immediately.”

For all Matthias’ grumbling, Inej didn’t think she imagined the relief on his face."

Damn! That comeback was just...*chef's kiss*. Kind of like "If you want her again, you'll have to be up to her level, king. if she's too much for you, maybe you don't deserve her anyway".

And it's incredible how Matthias just could not be truly mad at Nina. Looking for her in a crowd, being relieved when he knows she's okay...He truly was not even trying to hate her that hard.

"Inej tensed, waiting for the signal. It didn’t come. Kaz was just standing there, staring into the wagon.

“What’s happening?” whispered Wylan.

“Maybe they aren’t hooded?” she replied. From the side, she couldn’t see. “I’ll go.” They couldn’t all bunch up around the back of the cart at once.

Inej climbed out of the gully and came up behind Kaz. He was still standing there, perfectly still.

She touched his shoulder briefly, and he flinched. Kaz Brekker flinched. What was going on? She couldn’t ask him and risk giving anything away to the listening prisoners. She peered into the wagon."

Even though they're committing a felony here, my heart really goes out to Kaz in this moment. He's not even chained or shackled yet, but the pure sight of the prisoners being like this sent him in a spiral that froze him. I remember reading this part for the first time and thinking that something was seriously wrong with that (although I couldn't figure out what because Kaz is always 10 steps ahead of anyone) when in truth nothing was wrong, it was just him and his trauma resurfacing in such a situation.

“Tig! ” Matthias growled harshly in Fjerdan. A rustle went through the prisoners in the truck, as if they were all coming to attention. Without meaning to, Inej had straightened her spine, too. With that word, Matthias’ whole demeanour had changed, as if with a single sharp command he’d stepped back into the uniform of a drüskelle. Inej eyed him nervously. She’d started to feel comfortable with Matthias. An easy habit to fall into, but unwise."

I cannot wait to see Calahan act this scene. Even though it's very short, we haven't really seen him being commanding in the show, we've mostly seen him after the shipwreck and in prison, so I think it's gonna be interesting to see his "drüskelle" version come out too.

"Matthias locked Wylan into place first, then Nina. Inej saw him stiffen as Nina lifted her hair to accept the collar, revealing the white curve of her neck. As he fastened it around her throat, Nina met his eyes over her shoulder, and the look they exchanged could have melted miles of northern ice.

Matthias moved away hurriedly. Inej almost laughed. So that was all it took to send the drüskelle scurrying and bring the boy back."

What a bag full of contradictions Matthias really is! He's a mighty drüskelle, a witch hunter who just commandeered a group of prisoners into being silent, but one look from a "witch" (Nina) drives the drüskelle away and brings the boy back. Also, Matthias, you're supposed to hate her, isn't it?

"For now they were safe. But despite the rattle of the wagon’s wheels, Inej could tell Kaz’s breathing had got worse – shallow, rapid pants like an animal caught in a trap. It was a sound she’d never thought to hear from him.

It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted."

Oh no, Kaz! I was so shocked when I first read this scene, because he really feels like this phobia is his biggest weakness and fainting in front of all his colleagues / friends when he has a reputation that he wants to uphold more than anything must have really affected his pride. Although I don't think anyone else, besides Inej, even knew of this, but the sole fact that he's being able to overcome everything that's ever happened to him except this must be horrible.

Next up, we go down memory lane with Kaz and follow up with the heist!

#six of crows reread #six of crows

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thesecretattic · 2 years

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Ignore all my typos or punctuation marks/lack thereof, I’m not well at all, I’m numb head to toe and cold too and my pressure or breathing keeps getting shallow. I’ll have to remind myself that Aneri DOESN’T exist, she never did actually and that’s how he saw it too considering whatever I’ve shared here:

A - No one cares about my life in fact people are okay with letting someone die in front of them (because of them) ‘cuz they hate you so much that they are willing to commit a murder, they think no one’s watching.

B - He was trying to test not just my patience but also my character (I’ve shared most of the things on FB - Zara Sauleh) I can’t be defined, I’ve got a multidimensional & dynamic persona, you won’t be able to read me like that, I’ve met so many ppl from his field and they all have only one job other than F*cking, they love stereotyping girls and putting them in different categories, dude I’m not a “cliché” like you’ll, when you can’t make a girl feel SPECIAL at least don’t generalise her, how dare you? Is that why you’ll approach us on dating apps? To put us down? I’m the rarest of the rare… I’m irreplaceable and unforgettable, I’m both special and elusive. Maximum men from the TV industry are misogynistic, they only know how to use and throw. This is what reminded me of that and what gave rise to the “Manwh0re” theory https://www.facebook.com/100004442831729/posts/pfbid0gtNpJz5meFuEFrKkx3KRghXK7onGiZjY8XqrwdtqDqpjfTZvgJYaoZ8MUrEVH7Mtl/?d=n Somewhere in 2016-17 He created an account on Kik and Skype (new) with shirtless photos, when I was speaking to him as Aishwarya (sock puppet ID) I had mentioned Kik and Omegle and asked him if he was there on those apps and he had said he wasn’t. Here: He had made me so conscious about my looks that I had started posting half selfies as in just the chin and pout (I loved lipsticks ever since I was a kid but I wasn’t allowed to wear ‘em, after meeting him I started dressing up even more and I was living again after having a traumatic childhood and past I was only 20) so I would decide the whole look with different lip colours and lipglosses and I would always highlight my eyes and lips more when it came to makeup, there are two types of photos - Titillating and Anonymous, as a 20 year old I saw the 3/4th of my face chin-pout as the latter, so girls would either click selfies with hands on their face or hair or just the 3/4th part to look anonymous or random cuz we are made to feel extremely conscious about our looks… and even then those men mock us and make fun of these selfies, it’s easy to do that it’s difficult to survive even after bearing so much derision from the opposite gender. I’ll cut through the details now, so I wanted to click random, anonymous, mysterious (but not by any means sensual) selfies so I would just click the 3/4th part or sometimes even hands with finger rings, etc. Secondly when I asked him if he was on those apps Kik and Omegle, it was because of some other reason which I’ll share after writing what he did. He created an account on Kik for her/me (even though he wasn’t there on Kik before) and kept a shirtless DP and since Omegle has started focusing more on its Webcam version (and it’s primarily known for that now) he downloaded Skype, created a new account there and uploaded a shirtless pic on that too… He used his adult mind, I was 20, he was 7 years older so he used that and he wanted to “test” me, he thought I was asking him all that because Kik was as a sexting app (thanks to lascivious bots 🤖) and Omegle was also known as that. These were my reasons - I had seen Kik in my brother’s phone, I thought it was a messenger and I liked the notification buzz, the image and sound quality and multitude of options you had there to share links, embed links, gifs, images, videos, an in built internet browser for multi-viewing and it had games too with multiplayer… I was suggesting Kik cuz I had no friends and no one to talk to and I wanted to use that app since long, I was bullied on BBM and I felt it was jinxed this is exactly why I was initially reluctant to share my BB pin and he was trying to take out that grudge; I wanted him to move to some other alternative… so I suggested this app, it was faster too and less glitchy than BBM

I also named Omegle because of this - I knew he hated me because my looks were not good enough so I thought I won’t be a spoilt sport and I’ll still try to see if he could get less superficial and get to know the real me as in the person I was on the inside (as a 20 year old I thought I’ll give it a shot) I suggested him that to see if he was there so that I’ll get to talk to him anonymously, you can connect with people via similar interests as in same keywords for a text chat (not talking about video calling) I thought I’ll put some keywords in his mind and he might use them there, I didn’t want to deceive him or anyone, I just wanted a fair chance, I don’t even dress up anymore, my life is a mess I’m sick 24 x 7 I get abused I’m bed ridden so I don’t click any selfies now but everytime I use random aesthetic pics for my DP I feel like “justifying it” cuz again my intention is not to deceive people, otherwise I wouldn’t have said that I’m ugly now or more ugly (in his case) cuz I was always ugly for him. Next, when I was in a better state to write (a few years ago) I once challenged God to connect me with some Human on Omegle who wud talk about Ghosts and stuff, cuz there are several bots there as well who send automated messages like “Hey you wanna be my Sugar daddy Xx” I was so angry that day I challenged him at 10:00 in the night and in the first attempt itself I was connected to someone from Australia who was super excited to talk about paranormal stuff & he had many real life ghost stories to share and so did I, you know I have plenty of them… at least I wasn’t “boring” for him.

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wri0thesley · 3 years

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Could I get some Gojo face sitting please 👉🏻👈🏻🥺 Maybe with a chubby reader?

fool for love - gojo x reader (2.25k)

gojo asks you to try something, and you can never say no to him.

(warnings: nsfw, afab reader, fem pronouns (pet names). explicitly chubby reader, mentions of worries about weight/body. cunnilingus/facesitting)

Sometimes you think it’s a good job that you and Satoru Gojo are a couple; you’re absolutely certain that nobody but you would put up with him. You’re totally convinced that you’re the only fool in the world who sees his arrogant smirk and the thrust of his chin and the cocky set of his shoulders, listens to him go on and on about himself and about his work and about his strength, and wants to kiss him instead of kill him.

You do kiss him, coincidentally. A lot. Partly because when he’s kissing you, he’s not running his mouth – partly because the taste of his lips on yours and the feel of his hands on your waist, pulling you in, is addictive. You can’t get enough of him – and luckily, it seems that he can’t get enough of you either.

So when Gojo had thrown out this suggestion, casually, as if he was asking you what you two were going to order for dinner that night (you’ve never seen Gojo make anything more complicated than a ramen cup), it had not taken you long to agree.

Faced with it, though – Gojo situated on the bed, arm stretched over his head, grin on his face – you begin to wonder if maybe it’s such a good idea.

“Don’t back out on me now,” he says, the cocky grin not leaving his face. “I’ve been dying to taste you for hours.”

You shift uncomfortably on the other side of the bed, suddenly horribly aware of the curves of your body. No matter how Gojo’s words send a thrill through you – you know from experience he’s good with his tongue – you can’t deny that you’re a little afraid.

It’s easy to forget the difference between the two of you when he’s got you pressed underneath him on the mattress, cock plunging in and out, mouth hungrily kissing every patch of skin he can get at. When Gojo looks at you with his hair falling in his face and his eyes like starlit galaxies, you feel beautiful – but you’re not sure if you’ll feel quite the same way straddling his face.

He sees the way you bite your lip, the anxiety beginning to show in your gaze – and Gojo softens. You see him like this rarely (he’s proud more than he’s caring), but he’s shown this side of him to you every so often, when something has made you draw in on yourself. One of his hands wraps around your bare shoulders, pulling you to face him.

“Hey, doll,” he says, pressing his nose against yours affectionately. “What’s got you pouting, huh?”

“I . . .” You swallow. You feel so embarrassed admitting it! Gojo has never said anything about your body beyond how much he loves having your hips to hold onto, how he loves your thighs wrapped around his waist, how soft and warm you are tangled up beside him in bed – but your insecurities always seem to flash back up at the most inopportune of moments. “I’m just . . .” You blink, biting your lip. Your voice comes out in a soft breath. “I’m worried I’ll be too heavy.”

Gojo’s eyebrows draw in. You must have seen him without anything shading his eyes a hundred times now, when the two of you are in the bedroom, but you are still knocked back by just how pretty he is – the constellations in his irises, the fan of his white eyelashes against perfect skin. The expression makes his mouth jut out, so kissable that it takes your breath away.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” he says, as if the very idea is laughable. “I could lift you over my head right now--”

He reaches for you as if he’s going to do it, arms locking about your waist – the tension breaks as he effortlessly pulls you back, your body landing on top his. He doesn’t so much as let out a ‘whumph’ of air at the sensation of your body hitting his.

“I’m the strongest, remember?” There’s more than a note of swagger in his voice; he is so very proud of that accomplishment. You suppose he has every right to be.

“I guess,” you breathe, and he makes a soft harrumphing sound before his fingers twist into your hair, pulling you close to him to kiss you.

“You guess?” He sounds mock offended against your lips. “I guess that means I’ll have to show you exactly what I mean, huh?”

A nip at your lower lip; his hands roaming your bare back, stroking the curve of your ass and hips. Everywhere Gojo’s long fingers touch leaves a trail of fire behind, like he’s branding you with the pressure of his fingertips. You imagine them leaving glowing trails behind the colour of his eyes – but the coil of heat that they’re helping stoke, low in your belly, is more red than anything else.

“How’re you gonna do that?” You breathe against the softness of his mouth. He tastes like sugar; he always does. You can’t get enough of him, dizzy and breathless. You would gorge yourself on him if you could.

“Take a seat on your throne, princess,” he grins, letting his head hit the pillows hard. His pale hair spreads out all around him like a halo as he moves a hand from your hip to tap his mouth with his fingers. “And find out.”

You guess it would shut him up. Gojo’s mouth can’t keep moving if he’s got you occupying it. And you also can’t deny that the thought of it – riding his face – is more than half of the reason your inner thighs are slick with your arousal. Still . . . what if you really are too heavy for him?

Gojo murmurs your name softly – you meet his eyes again, and you see softness and tenderness reflected in them, despite the fact that his mouth is still shaped into a cocky smirk. You know if you say no, he probably won’t push you. But . . . you don’t want to say no. You push yourself up from his chest.

He’s still wearing his underwear, and you wonder if he can sense how damp you are where you briefly straddle him – because you can certainly feel how stiff he is, the outline of his cock pressing against silken boxer shorts (yeah, of course he’s a silk underwear kind of man – you’ve seen them countless times, but just how Gojo that particular detail of him is never fails to make you smile).

“Okay,” you breathe. “I hope you’re comfy.”

Gojo’s face splits into a grin as you move yourself, your knees suddenly either side of his face, his cheeks pressing against the softness of your thighs.

“Babe,” he starts to say, “I’m absolutely the com—mmppf--”

His gloating is cut off by you sitting on his face. The whisper of his breath across your heated folds as he’d spoken had been too tempting, your sex feeling like it was pulsing in time with your heartbeat – and so, you’d given in. Using your hands as leverage on the headboard of the bed, you’d sunk fully onto your knees and muffled Gojo’s words.

Oh, God.

Your mind blanks out at first, as Gojo’s tongue goes at you hungrily. For his first hungry licks at your core, he’s voracious – he seems to want to drink you up like fine wine. Gojo does not drink – you know this very well – but if he could get drunk on your slick, you think he’d already be unable to stand up. One of the hands on the headboard goes to tangle in the fluffy strands of his pale hair instead, and he looks up at you for a moment, pausing with the flat of his tongue pressed against the throbbing bud of your clit.

The sight of his eyes between your thighs almost pushes you over the edge there and then – looking down at him feels like tumbling down a rabbit hole, like you’ll never be able to pull yourself out of their lovely depths. He makes a soft noise against your folds that has you practically vibrating, your toes curling – and you realise it’s a question.

Maybe he’s asking you what’s wrong, maybe he’s asking you if you want to stop, but your mind is all hazy from the feeling of his mouth on you. So all you do is tug at his hair and gasp, your hips rolling forward against him to try and coax his tongue into flickering across your clit like you’re longing for it to do.

“Satoru,” you whimper, voice all thin and reedy like a prayer, and Gojo does not need any more encouragement than that to return to his work.

Gojo’s hands rest on your hips and even you feel small for a second, the length of his fingers and size of his palm almost overwhelming. There’s so much power in the way he holds you – so much strength behind the casual clench of his fingers into your plush. He keeps you anchored there as he uses the flat swathe of his tongue to lap at you all at once, briefly teasing your entrance before he twirls his tongue around your clit like someone licking whipped cream off of a fancy dessert--

He’s caught you watching him do exactly that out of the corner of your eye many times before, and grinned at you widely with a hungry murmur that he’ll devour you in exactly the same way if you want him too.

Does he not need to breathe?

You lose track of how long you’ve been sat on his face for. You can’t think of anything else with the warm, wet muscle of Gojo’s tongue teasing you. He thrusts it in and out of your entrance, making your entire body jerk and your walls try and cling to him, constrict around him. He flicks his tongue so fast over the bud of your clit that you can’t understand how he does it, it can’t be human to move that fast--

All through it, the tension tight in your stomach is getting hotter and tighter and needier, like a instrument's string being tuned to its breaking point.

You can barely breathe. There’s nothing but Gojo’s insistent lapping at your core, the thrust of his tongue in and out of your channel (has Gojo’s tongue always been so long? It feels just as good inside of you as his fingers always do, but different--). Your hips are rocking and grinding against his face against your will, your fingers twisting into his hair. You’ve lost your senses completely in the chase of your release, hovering tantalisingly close--

Gojo gives your clit one final, soft lap, the barest hint of his teeth against the hood and you burst into bloom for him like a flower. The string snaps and heat floods your body, Gojo’s name escaping you in a wail. Fireworks burst into being behind your eyelids.

Gojo’s tongue follows through, coaxing you through the soft, gentle aftershocks of your orgasm even as your thighs are trembling and your grip on the headboard is beginning to loosen. If it weren’t for his hands on your hips, you would probably fall forward and hit your head on the wall, passing out – but Gojo’s assessment of his strength wasn’t for naught, and your spent body is being pulled down so your heated cheeks are pressed against Gojo’s firm chest. You blink up at him in your exhausted, pleasure-drunk state--

The entire lower half of his mouth is dripping wet, glinting with your arousal and his own drool from how hungrily his tongue was going at you. But his eyes are as sharp as ever, drinking you in like you’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen – as if he can’t believe that you’d ever doubt yourself.

Nobody would believe you if you told them how Gojo gets, sometimes – if you told them about the smile-softened eyes and the softer words, the way he holds you like a precious treasure that might break at any moment. He leans down and strokes some hair from your eyes, almost lazy.

“I told you I was the strongest,” he says, and even though it’s a boast, his voice and manner is so soft that you barely register it. You’re smiling up at him like a fool. Maybe it’s foolish to love him as much as you do – but if it is, you don’t want to be clever. You don’t want to be anything but his, here, in his bed, sprawled out across him, lazy and sated.

You kiss the bit of his chest directly beneath your lips lazily, needing to express your affection for this arrogant, gorgeous, irrepressible (perfect) man.

He sighs at the contact, shifting – and you’re reminded of what’s currently lying beneath his own underwear, hot and needy and thick. It’s a testament to Gojo’s willpower he hasn’t mentioned it yet.

You smile at him. One more minute of relaxing on his chest – of having your hair played with, of getting to look at him . . . and then, you’ll see to that.

Gojo’s eyes are just as gorgeous when you’re knelt between his thighs as they are when he’s trapped between yours, after all.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #not sfw #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #writing #jjk posting #afab reader #fem pronouns #jjk writing tag

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nolpat0 · 3 years

Text

something like this | s. crosby

summary: sidney has always wanted someone like her and confess as much to her

wc: 1,573

warnings: mentions of hospital/injury, one sexual innuendo

The low, metronomic beeping of the monitor keeps a steady, consistent beat to the familiar, dulcet hum of a female voice. In his drugged, cloud nine-like haze, Sidney does his best imitation of a grin, the gloriously soothing tone of her words easing him out of his concern.

"Sid?" her whisper is followed by the warm press of her fingers against the skin of his upper arm, a sweet reminder of her unwavering support. "Are you awake?"

He is; but the boy fights the grin that is sure to give him away in order to keep the easy flow of her rambles going, enjoying her vivid stories and the giggle at the end of her words as she confesses the minuscule details of her day to him. She believes him to be fast asleep, for her words to be nothing but a useless hum, and he enjoys the unexpected imtimacy of the affectionate gesture.

"I see what you're doing," she speaks again, the edge of her words exploding into the melodic tumble of her soft laughter. However, she doesn't cease her talking. "I'll just keep talking and making a fool out of myself so you can pretend you're asleep."

Sidney can't help the glimmer of love that warms his hospital blanket-clad body, a small, tender smile tugging at the edges of his full lips, revealing himself. Her fingertips trail over the carved outline of his cheekbones and brush against his hair as he finally opens his coffee-colored eyes. He gives her a earnest smile, the edges of his eyes crinkling as his dark eyes travel over her face, his full, pink lips splitting open into a wide grin to reveal shining teeth. She mumbles a soft, calming greeting and caressed his cheek a second time with the tips of her fingertips.

“So you gonna fall asleep again so I can tell you what Mat did next?” She asks, the edges of her lips curled into a playful smirk as she teases him, fingers still running agaisnt the midnight strands of his short hair in a loving manner.

Sidney can’t help the gentle, genuine laugh that rumbles from his chest, his grip on the pale blue hospital blanket loosening as he lets his palm fall flat on the curve of her knee. He nods quickly, eager to keep hearing her soft speech and tease her back, “Yes of course. My bad.”

He doesn’t catch the small smile that lights up her face because his dark lashes are already falling flat agaisnt his faintly flushed cheeks. She doesn’t waste another second launching into a detailed discription of her colleague, Mat’s experience with a particularly awkward run in with their boss. As she gently lulled him farther into the comforting clutches of sleep, Sidney tried his very best to keep his facial expressions netural but failed quite badly, which propelled her further into making him laugh. As the tall hockey player felt sleep finally take him, he felt overwhelmed with the buzzing, delicious feeling of love. He was consumed by the complete love he held in his heart for the girl still talking and running her fingers through his hair. He was too deeply in love to even think properly. And Sidney loved every minute of it.

———

Sidney couldn’t feel the light press of her palm agaisnt his as the white lab coat clad doctor filled the couple in on his prognosis and what the steps leading them forward would look like, a detailed, and frankly terrifying process that would have Sidney recovering and ready to return on the ice in a month or so. His breath was strained through his lungs, his jaw dancing with a clenched muscle as he tried to reign in his fears and desire to lace up his skates without a practical thought about the nasty consequences. Sidney just wanted to return to the locker room and resume being captain, and knew the only way to that was through the plan the doctor was currently laying out. Which scared Sidney to his bones if he was allowed to be completely honest.

“Sid,” she called, eyes watching her boyfriend closely as the hospital room door clicked closed in the wake of the doctors exit. Nerves clung to her limbs but she shook them off in order to ease Sid and his tense posture. She tried again, more forcefully. “Sidney.”

His chin dips and he finally slides his cinnamon coloured eyes to lock onto hers, trying to mask his evident fears. But she knows him far too well to skip the flicker of fear shining in his irises or the slight quiver of nerves that shook his large hands. Instinctively, her palms slide over his, fingers knitting tightly with his in a subconscious attempt to ease his shaking.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she nods, refusing to break eye contact in order to get her confidence across. She could tell he was scared, as was she, but she understood that in the end, all would work out. And they would be ok.

“I know.” Sidney tries again, blatantly deflecting.

Her lips quirk into a soft, knowing smile, her eyes flickering up distractedly as she brushes his hair back from his forehead. She smiles deeper absentmindedly, a smile that Sidney adores with all his heart. He felt a tiny fraction of his terror fading away like ice thawing in his veins.

“You don’t have to act like you’re not worried, Sid.” her eyes dropped to hold his loving gaze, her lips set in a firm line. “You don’t have to always be the strong one. That’s what I’m here for.”

A tight breath eases from his lips as his eyes close lightly, his heart settling back into its former steady pace of calm at her carefully chosen words. He was grateful, for her presence and the pressure of her fingers in his and the weight of her words. He’d never experienced a love like hers, where she loved him wholly and unconditionally, allowing him to remove all his amored layers and bravado. He revealed his true self to her and she had only kissed him passionately and grinned like he’d given her the best gift she could receive, repeating her daily mantra of how much she loved him. Sidney had never felt more loved than he did at that moment. His heart swelled fondly at the memory, the edges of his lips turning up in a doting smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, a little unsure of what exactly he was thanking her for, but the statement was truthful.

She responded with a light, fleeting kiss pressed to his temple, her palms reaching up to softly cup the sharp curve of his jaw. He waits with baited breath, but soon relaxes fully under her loving gaze content with just staring at her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, the syllables falling softly from his chapped lips in a unintentional audible confession.

She blinks at the unguarded, genuine compliment she knows he must mean, when she’s been curled up in the uncomfortable hospital chair beside his bed for the past two days, sleepless nights smudged under her eyes and dressed in his old clothes. She feels the burn of her cheeks under his gaze and the compliment. Sidney catches the slight embarrassment and reaches out to brush his thumbs under her eyes. “You’re cute when you get flustered.”

She rolls her eyes in response, mouth curving into a mirthful grin.

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t you fall back asleep?”

Sidney reaches out and hooks his fingers the the belt loops of her jeans, pulling her closer and onto the narrow mattress, shifting his own body to accommodate hers. “Only if you sleep with me.” he replied, coffee coloured eyes gleaming with flirtatious mischief. His fingers don’t loosen their hold, instead going to grip her hips and pull her flush to his side, savouring the warmth radiating from her smaller figure now dwarfed by his size. She curls tightly to his side, fingers digging into the material of his shirt and leg falling over his as his palm cups the underside of her thigh before it gave away to her knee. She hums with a soft laughter, commenting that she’ll think about his desirous proposal, ignoring the fact they both knew she’d already complied. Sidney settled in with a long, adoration filled kiss to her hair that didn’t hold a drop of lust. He grins at the tired lilt to her voice as she mumbles softly into his thin shirt, the reverberations flowing through his chest. His fingertips smoothed over her hair as he breathed deeply, catching her familiar scent. “I love you so much.” Sidney whispered into the layers of her hair as she promptly fell asleep to the barley audible confession, meaning every syllable with his whole heart.

When her breathing has evened out, a soft almost imperceptible whistle of her breath as she falls into a deep, dream-less sleep upon his chest, fingers tightly curled in the material of his thin shirt, as if she can’t fathom letting him go, even in sleep, Sidney reveals his truest confession.

“I’ve always wanted to be loved by someone like you.” his words are hot and hit the top of her forehead before he kisses her skin. Sidney is quick to brush a stray eyelash from her cheek. “And now I have you. And I’m not letting you go.”

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yeojaa · 3 years

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.��

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 3 years

Text

This Boy (George Harrison x Female!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! welcome to my first oneshot! a lot of my stories are very plot-driven and they end up becoming these long chapter fics but I'm gonna see if I can make a handful of oneshots in the next little bit to kind of give yous something to read while waiting for the longer fics to finish up. this is my first one, and it's for Georgie!

Summary: It's date night, and you're more than ready to meet your mystery date; George, however, is not.

WARNINGS: Swearing is in almost all my fics, so this one isn't safe either probably, hints of suggestive behaviour, slow burn, friends to lovers, lack of self-editing probably, etc. *This fic is also LONG AF so I would advise y'all to start reading this when you have nothing else to do*

I'll rate this one as a T. Enjoy, folks!

George checked the clock on the wall again and sighed gently.

You were still getting ready.

As much as it disappointed him, George agreed-- well, more like offered-- to drive you to your blind date one of your girlfriends set you up on.

It's not that he wasn't excited or proud of you for getting yourself out there. He knew you'd been meaning to do that since graduating school.

He was just frustrated at the fact that whichever lucky man was going on a date with you that night wasn't him.

When he found out about the date, he immediately vocalized his distrust for the mystery person, despite knowing absolutely zero about him. You seemed heartbroken at that, and to make it up to you, he offered to drive you to the date.

So there he was, sitting on the sofa in the living area of your flat, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

George had taken you to school dances in the past, and while your mother let you wear makeup to them, it never took you this long to apply it.

You were definitely dressing to impress tonight.

"Lucky man," he just mumbled under his breath at the thought of that boy.

You and George had been friends since you were children, and he deemed you his Best Friend Forever only an hour into your first playtime.

You spent your days as children riding your bikes to the park to play, and helping each other with homework at each other's houses every night.

However, that sort of platonic "buddy-buddy" dynamic changed when the both of you hit puberty.

It wasn't until a boy at George's school questioned him if you were his girlfriend, that George realized he had a crush on you. Some of his friends had girl friends, and they were always teased about whether or not they were dating, but this was the first time anyone had put you and George together.

After this discovery, (which he would endlessly thank the young boy who opened his eyes to the truth in the first place) George began to notice lots of little things about you that he hadn't before.

You would run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head during hugs, you never took your eyes away from him when he was speaking; there hadn't been one time to name that you'd ever made him upset or angry, but more or less excited, and free, and joyous.

And not to mention, the way you called him "Georgie" made his heart pound so loud and hard in his chest that he might as well have just completed a marathon...

He was in love with everything only when you were around.

Actually, as awkward as George thinks it is, Paul helped him realize he was physically attracted to you.

The boys were on their way to George's after school, a few years after George realized he had a little crush on you, and the teenagers both caught sight of you watering the front garden of your home at the request of your mother.

George stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his mouth hanging open as he watched you do your thing. After being enrolled in his boy's school, you never had much time to see one another, as much as it hurt him; so he cherished every moment he could see you.

"If her ma catches you out the window starin' at her daughter's arse the way you're doin' right now Harrison, they'll rip your tongue right out."

George's face went bright red, and he turned to look at Paul in horror, slapping him on the arm for saying such a thing. "I wasn't staring at her like that!" But he couldn't help but steal a glance at your behind since it was now the topic of discussion, though he really didn't want it to be.

Paul knew George felt compelled to say something to you, and he smirked as George awkwardly raised his hand to wave as he called to you from the other side of the street.

"H-hey, Y/n!"

You turned around, and grinned at who you'd seen.

"Hey Georgie! Hi Paulie!" You twiddled your fingers at them, and George's stomach churned in jealousy at the fact you had a nickname for Paul, as well.

"Your garden looks beautiful, Ms. Y/l/n!"

Paul stole George's line. He fucking stole his line!

"A-and you look just as lovely as ever!" George added to one-up his friend.

You put a hand to your heart. "You boys make my heart sing." George took pride in your words despite them partially being for Paul as well.

"We need to see each other more, yeah?" George never expected his question to really get him anywhere, but he was wrong.

"Why not tonight? I don't have any homework and my parents are leaving town 'round five for the weekend to visit my auntie and uncle."

George's answer came quick, and effortlessly. "I'll be 'round for six. Sound good?"

"Perfect! I'll see you tonight then." You waved to the boys again, and then went back to watering the garden after bidding farewell.

The rest of the walk home was just Paul making fun of how lovestruck George was with you, and by the time they got to his house, just down the road from yours, Paul looked over at his buddy and smiled.

"No wonder you value your time with your darlin' over there so much, Magpie. Looks like she would definitely be a fine birdie in bed."

George looked over at Paul, eyes wide, and his voice broke. "... What?!" The thought of going to bed with you never crossed his mind-- well, until that moment.

"Hey, her folks'll be gone by the time you go over! You can make your move then! It's perfect!" Paul's words laced with excitement made George feel panicked, and the boy shook his head worriedly after a moment. "M-maybe it's not the best idea to go tonight..."

"Why not? All you ever wanna do is be alone with her!" Paul set a hand on the other boy's shoulder when he didn't answer. "What's up, George?"

"Paul, I've never even kissed her. She doesn't even know I like her like that! What if she likes someone else?! What do I even do?!" Paul was the biggest heartbreaker George knew. He'd had like... ten girlfriends since they met, and he kissed a whole three of them. They didn't last long, much like the fate of other young relationships, but George took Paul's advice as serious guidance; he needed to in a time like this.

"You just need to be calm. Take some deep breaths. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I know you will."

That night, George had many opportunities to dive in for a kiss, or mention his feelings for you; some of those opportunities he even believed you encouraged, but he didn't budge out of utter fear of rejection. George knew for a fact that Paul was going to facepalm when he asks him for details on the visit to your place.

Instead, the night only consisted of talking, and the only contact you made were a couple of hugs and a kiss on the cheek (which left George a stumbling mess again), though you did agree to spend more time together, which is how your friendship lasted so long.

He was so close to having you, and because he was too scared to make the move Paul (and maybe you) were encouraging him to make so long ago, you slipped through his fingers; and since, the thought of not being able to have you that way never left his mind.

Especially not when you were now a gorgeous young lady, blindly torturing poor George, who beat himself up every day because he lost his chance.

You were like a piece of artwork to George. You could be loved, admired, and looked at by him, but he could never hold you or touch you.

And George hated that.

George wanted you to be his girl.

And you were his girl-- well, in a twisted way. You were always with him, smiling and laughing about nothing and everything, holding onto each other in your darkest nights and guiding one another through personal struggles...

But when other boys started to want you too, George wanted to make it a point to keep the majority of them away.

Some didn't heed George's threats and went on to pursue you anyways, only to be turned down on your front steps by yourself. George never understood why you never reciprocated anybody's feelings, but it's not like he was verbally complaining.

And that's what lead up to tonight. George had wanted you for so long, and the sudden knowledge of a blind date had him in shock, especially since this was your very first time giving in and agreeing to go.

It killed him to know some rando was going to appear out of thin air to whisk you away, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and eventually put his hands on you, thinking his love for you is stronger than any other despite knowing absolutely nothing about how you should be loved, and treated...

But George hid his fury from you because you were excited about this date.

And he would do anything for you.

George's rage-inducing, mind-racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut from behind him. He turned his head, heart in his throat, and you stepped into the room.

You wore a lovely high-waisted navy dress, and a pair of black flats. Your hair was half down, the rest coming together at the back of your head by a matching clip-on bow.

As expected, your makeup was quite noticeable. The burgundy colour of your lips and dark brown eyeshadow had George's head spinning, and he couldn't resist ogling at the way that dress fit you so well...

"So… How do I look? Like, if we were about to go on a date..."

A date? Us? We?!

George's palms began to sweat, and his heart did somersaults. If only.

It was only then that he realized his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and after snapping it shut, he swallowed in embarrassment, not daring to look anywhere but your eyes again in fear of falling victim to your appearance again.

Imagine not being able to trust your eyes?

"... What would you think?"

George squeaked, his lips moving hesitantly though he didn't make a sound. His face was surely an embarrassing shade of red, and the longer he waited into answer, the more anticipated you looked for a response.

George rose to his feet and approached you, bravely deciding to give you another good onceover after a deep breath, though he kind of lost all sense of feeling in his legs when you smiled at him with that perfect mouth of yours...

"Wow." George sighed, eyelids falling heavy over his brown irises as he admired you.

"I just... you... wow, Y/n." He couldn't come up with a coherent sentence with the way you were staring at him like that.

God, he was absolutely smitten with you.

Your eyes shone joyously as you placed your hand on your heart, and George, as impossible to him as it seemed, fell so much more in love with you than he was just moments before. Your presence rendered him speechless, and the thought inflated your ego a lot more than you would have expected it to.

George remained silent, but his gaze was still glued to you. He'd looked at you for long enough in his life to probably draw you perfectly by memory, but he still took his time to drink in what he was given; because who knew if he'd ever be able to see more of you than this?

"I... I'm-- I'm speechless, is what I am." He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "I... honestly hope my eyes are doing all the talking for me."

"Aw, you're just a sweetiepie, aren't you?"

You beamed at George, blushing as you took another step toward him. "Well Georgie... if you keep looking at me and sweet-talking the way you are..." your warm words were carefully chosen, and it was obvious that George was hanging into every single word you were saying.

"I may just have to pass on this date and spend tonight with you." Your eyelids fell heavy over your eyes, and you offered George a smile that was suggesting something maybe not so innocent.

"Wh-what?!"

"... I said I'm ready to go." You raised your eyebrow in a little confusion at George's flustered state.

Oh my fucking God she didn't even say that?!

Idiot.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

"... R-right, yes, of course." George shook his head as if to rid his brain of the idea of tricking him like that again. He offered his arm out to you, and you linked yours with his before walking to the door together.

You passed a mirror on the way out, and George caught a glimpse of the both of your reflections, and his chest felt like it was on fire.

He looked so happy to be with you in that moment.

And you looked so happy to be leaving to spend time with another man.

George just hoped at least the reflection of him and you were going on this date together, and both of those smiles were meant for each other.

George pulled up to whatever restaurant this guy wanted to meet you at, which was on the other side of town. George did not approve of this and even reminded you of this on the way there, though you insisted you'd be fine, like you had the couple of times he mentioned this before.

You looked at him after he threw his car into park, and he gave you a little smile after a moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You do look beautiful, Y/n. This guy... he's very lucky."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you believe me."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss George's cheek. His skin darkened to pink beneath your lips before you could pull away and leave the car with another goodbye, though his ears were ringing and he missed your final farewell.

She doesn't believe me...

George waited until he saw you were seated in the restaurant to put his car back into drive, but something kept him from lifting his foot off the brake. He watched you adjust your silverware at your table, and clasp your hands together in wait.

... Maybe George wanted to wait for this guy to show up.

But would he really want to kill himself by spying on you and watching you fall for someone who wasn't him over the course of one night?

That was the question that made him decide to look back, and pull out of his parking space before he could spot anyone even go near the building. He was in drive and speeding home moments later.

The car ride back to his flat was a quiet one. George kept the radio off, and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole time as if he were almost impatient to get home and do nothing.

Every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw his eyes stare back at him, it just reminded him that his reflection left that restaurant alone and just as disappointed as his real counterpart.

It wasn't long before George pulled into his building's parking space and sulked out of his car, slamming the door shut. His eyes and nose were burning from the assault of unfallen tears.

He dropped you off to meet this guy. This was all on him this time.

George loved you. He loved you with all his heart, enough to swallow his pride-- sacrifice his happiness for your own.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, dropping you off that night felt like he was letting you go.

And was he?

He pretty much stumbled through the door because his fucks to give for himself were pretty much nonexistent at this point. He kicked his shoes off, not caring if he scuffed up the wall with black marks.

He just wanted to have a long hot shower, crawl into bed, and hide from everyone.

And that's just what he did.

His shower was well over an hour long, and that's where he broke down and cried for the majority of the time. He cried about you, and the situation his own decisions put himself in. He cried in jealousy for the threat sweeping you off your feet right now, and he cried as if that was the last night he'd ever see you again.

When he got out of the shower, well after the stream went cold, he had no more tears to shed. He was dehydrated, and he felt broken. He did a half-assed job of drying himself off before leaving the bathroom and collapsing into bed, only a towel secured around his hips.

His face was pressed into his pillow, and he tucked his arms beneath it and submerged himself even further into the soft fabric.

He recently switched detergent to whichever one you regularly used, and he just took in the familiar scent; anything to make him feel more at home without you actually being present...

George had no idea how long he was in that position for, but he fell asleep like that, only to wake to the sound of the phone ringing.

He got up and stumbled out of his room to ease the obnoxiously loud phone by picking up the call, shouting, and hanging up on whoever decided to phone at this hour-- whichever hour it was.

"Yeah," George rasped through the receiver, his tone laced with underlying irritation. He just wanted to be left alone in his sadness.

"George..."

"... Y/n?" He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand before you spoke, but your voice made him freeze.

"Oh Georgie..." your voice was breaking over the phone, and he could tell it wasn't the connection.

"Y/n, my Love, what's the matter?!"

"George he... He didn't show." George's heart stopped.

He didn't show.

George's grip closed tighter and tighter on the phone receiver, and he could feel the pure rage bubbling in his chest, and the plastic receiver crackling from the force under his fingers.

"Where are you?" He demanded. "I'm coming right now to get you," George was about to start throwing his shoes on, despite wearing absolutely nothing to start off with, his towel discarded and still on the bed from when he passed out.

"The same place you dropped me off."

God dammit, this fucking guy had you go to the other side of town just to be forgotten about.

It was finally settled: if George ever found out who this guy was, he'd kill him for doing this to you.

"Don't move. Be there in five." As soon as George hung up the phone, he took off to his room. He was ready in record time: under a minute. Up until the day he died, George wouldn't have been able to dress as quick as he did that night, and he never knew how he did it.

What really mattered was that George got to the other side of town in about five minutes, as he said over the phone.

George whipped into the parking lot and got out of the car. He hurried over to the front of the building to go in and search for you, but he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the curb as he grabbed the door handle.

His grip eased on the lockset, and he slowly turned to you. You were facing away from him, arms folded as you tried to shield yourself from the cool evening wind. You had no clue he was even behind you.

George sighed gently, shedding his jacket off and placing it on your shoulders without another word. He could see your whole body relax from the weighted piece of clothing, and he wondered if his scent was comforting for you too, as it was vice versa.

George heard you breathe out, but you sniffled afterwards. It broke his heart to see you like this. George looked around to see if anyone was watching, because if there was a chance this guy was cackling away in a parked car at the sight of you in tears, George would have had no problem kicking his headlights in and slashing his tires.

He dropped to the curb and sat down right next to you, not hesitating to circle his arm around your body.

At his touch, you curled yourself into a ball, and George scooped you up to squeeze you tight. And against his chest, when you knew you were safe from all harm, you gently sobbed.

George let you cry it all out, and the tighter you held onto him, the tighter he held onto you.

"Am I just unlovable George...? Is that it?" Your words were quiet and muffled, but George heard every syllable you mustered.

He pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, and his grip on your arms were firm, but not tight. "Now Y/n, you do not for one second even think you're unlovable. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His eyebrows were lowered in anger at the very idea of you feeling unloved.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, and George's expression softened. He reached his hand up to your face, and he could feel you shaking. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow again.

George wished then more than ever that he was the one who was supposed to see you. He would have shown up.

"Y/n, you deserve so much better than this. If you were mine, I’d make sure sitting alone on the curb, stood up, would be the last place you'd ever find yourself, especially when you were so excited to go out..."

George didn't know where his little spurt of confidence came from, but he was more focused on the words he was choosing to use with you, and what he was all going to say.

"... If I were yours...?" You sniffled again, cheeks and the tip of your nose turning pink and George paused at the sudden realization.

You still had a chance to be his.

And all because that boy didn't show up, he still had time to figure out how he could pull it all off; but it had to be tonight.

He took a deep breath.

"I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you. I just... I sometimes wonder why you were never mine. Why you're not mine..." his voice lowered throughout the sentence, and the end of his confession was barely above a whisper.

You watched George for a moment, lips parted, as if you couldn't believe your ears, and the young man panicked a little, deciding to disregard his last words before it suddenly became the topic of discussion.

"Oh, my Love," George's eyes suddenly saddened as he reached out to wipe away your fresh tears and smeared makeup with his thumb. Your bottom lip trembled at the contact, and he sighed.

"Just because he didn't show up doesn't mean your evening has gone to waste." He stood up and turned to look down at you.

"The night is still young." He then held his hand out in front of you, and you looked at it for a moment as if you didn't know what he wanted from you.

"Y/n... give me one night. Let me show you how a man should always treat you."

He wasn't quite sure if he just unintentionally asked you on a real life date, or if you thought of all this as an act, but even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it gave George the chance of a lifetime to at least pretend you were his, even if this opportunity only lasted one night.

"Please."

You didn't move at first, but George was patient. You eventually slowly reached your hand out, and George helped you up, not making the effort to let go of you afterwards.

George looked up at the restaurant, and did a double take. "... You... you don't even like fancy places like this, am I wrong?" All you could think about when looking at him was that he knew you so well.

"A place like this on a first date is a clear sign he'd leave halfway through and I'd be stuck with the bill." George smiled a little, and so did you.

You wiped your final stray tear from your cheek and George gave your other hand a squeeze. "... I'd rather get a burger and go for a walk, to be honest."

"Then that's what we'll do," George confirmed with a nod. It was settled, then.

George and you strolled to the car, still hand-in-hand, and he courteously opened your door to help you in. He ran over to the other side afterwards and climbed in behind the wheel before pulling out and taking off to find somewhere for you both to eat.

You both came across this quiet burger place downtown, and the both of you were able to get a booth in the back for privacy so you could both scarf down your meals in peace.

George ordered the same food you did, and you both settled on sharing a milkshake together (a single milkshake eventually became two).

"God," you looked around the nearly empty joint before turning your gaze back to George. "Do you know how much more comfortable I feel in here?"

"Even when you're dressed like you belong in a dress shop window?" George smiled around his straw and you matched his grin. "Shut up. At least my hair is brushed out."

The poor guy had no clue until now that he forgot to comb his hair out after his depression shower, embarrassingly clawing his fingers through his locks to at least tidy up the mess on his head.

You just laughed out that you were teasing him, and the joyous hiccups from your laughter had George briefly forgetting everything negative that had happened so far that night.

After settling down a little, your food was brought out and you both started eating.

There wasn't much for the both of you to talk about other than the part of your day when you weren't together, and it wasn't like George wanted to mention what happened to him in the last two hours or make you upset by talking about your night.

Instead you both settled on joking about old times. Before the both of you knew it, George had you giggling and smiling once again before your dessert even came, and when the waitress came around to your table with your two-person cookie skillet, you grinned even wider.

You thanked the waitress before she went on her way, and you looked up across the treat to George, whom you were half expecting to be drooling over the cookie. Instead, he was in a dream-like trance, soft gaze fixed on you, and only you. You weren't too sure if he even knew the skillet was in front of him, he was so distracted.

"George...?" You called to him gently as to not frighten him when coming back down to reality. His response was almost immediate, like he could hear you.

And maybe he did.

"... I'm sorry, I don't know how many times I've tried to say this already tonight but have chickened out, but you look just..." George was examining every inch of you that he could see and you blushed, casting your eyes down to the table.

"Angel, look at me." George reached over the table and rested his hand over yours. You lifted your head to look him in the eye, and he hesitated for a moment. Your full attention flustered him, then again it always did, but he took a deep breath.

"You look heavenly, Y/n."

You said nothing. This time, he had you speechless, but nothing wasn't the response he was looking for.

"Dontcha believe me...?" His question echoed through your brain, and you blinked. George scanned your eyes after giving your hand a squeeze. He knew you had something to say, and he was at the edge of his seat in anticipation for your words.

"... Do you really think so?"

"Are you kidding me?! Y/n, I... when you came out of your room tonight I just... looking at you right now, I'm at a loss for words. Heavenly doesn't even scratch the surface. No word exists that perfectly describes how you look to me. Now, or ever."

There was yet another spurt of confidence that washed over George. He had a feeling his words and actions were getting the both of you somewhere, especially when his final sentence had you blushing the way you were.

At least he knew he was doing something right.

George's grip on your hand tightened a little, and he flipped your hands over so your palm was face-up in his. He brought your hand closer to him, and he kissed your fingertips before leaving a final one at the centre of your palm. His eyes never left your red face as he did this, and he grinned against your hand when you offered him a shy smile.

Oh... she IS actually liking this.

When he pulled away, George looked down at the still-untouched dessert, and he smiled, releasing another nervous breath he was holding as he finally let go of your hand. "Let's finish up so we can go on our walk. Sound good, my Love?"

You only nodded before digging in with him, every nudge of his hand against yours reducing you to a blushing mess, and George, who was gaining more confidence as every second passed, would just smile to himself knowing he was successfully turning the tables on you.

But it wasn't yet the time to give in and confess, as much as George wanted to. He still had a nice long walk to woo you on, and then he had to do the important step of walking you to your apartment door at the end of the night, and God knows that was the part he was dying to get to.

You finished your dessert not long after and George payed the bill. After helping you out of the booth, you'd left hand-in-hand again.

The both of you stepped out into the cool night and you looked up at George. "Are you cold? Did you want your jacket back?"

You were holding it in your other hand since you'd taken it off at dinner, and you shoved it in his direction without another word.

He laughed and took the jacket from you, unfolding it and pulling it back around your shoulders before rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm.

"You'll catch a cold without it. Besides, you look better in it anyways." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, smiling proudly to himself when he pulled away and continued to lead you to the car, deciding it'd be smoother to not turn around and gauge for a reaction from you.

Like before, George courteously opened the car door for you, and closed it when you were in. Their destination was his place. It wasn't for the reason one would think, but the idea of driving you to his home and inviting you in with every intention of walking right past the kettle made George's legs restless.

In reality there was a park down the road from his flat that cut pretty much directly to your own humble abode. You'd walked the trail hundreds of times together to look at the pretty flowers growing in the garden, but something told George that this time, like everything else happening that day, was going to be very different.

When you pulled up to his building he raced you to get to your door for the second time of the night; the first being at the burger place when you first arrived. He took your hand and helped you out of the car, and he didn't let go, even after locking the doors to his car and leading you both down the road.

There was a silence that fell between the both of you. It wasn't bad. You took this time to think about your night, as did George. With every step down the road and into the park you took, the smile on your face only grew wider. As for George, he began to sweat with every step he took.

Every foot forward led him closer and closer to your door, where he was going to finally let everything off his chest and confess to you. The problem was that George's confidence was quickly draining, and this was something he needed to do.

He eventually let go of your hand to wipe his palms off on his pant leg, and at the immediate loss of contact, you were turning to him with a confused look on your face.

"Sorry uh..." he breathed out slowly, cheeks dusted pink. "I-I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."

Your look of confusion faded into an unreadable one. "Was it holding my hand?"

George shook his head. "No no, not that, I want to hold your hand."

"So what's the problem?"

He just shook his head again. "Maybe it's just... the stress of making sure tonight is perfect for you."

"What?!" Your reaction was sudden, and George's eyebrows were raised high up on his forehead at your exclamation.

"George, tonight has already been perfect for me! I had a great meal, I'm on a lovely walk with you..." you reached out to take his hand again, and he lifted his gaze from his shoes to look you in the eye. You smiled up at him from under the streetlight, and George smiled back a little.

"Georgie, I would never have asked for a better night." You squeezed his fingers with yours and tugged him forward gently. "C'mon, Magpie. Let's get home. It'll be cooling down soon, and I don't want you walking outside much longer than needed tonight."

George followed behind, but you still took your time coming home since the both of you got caught up in another conversation. This time, it was about the flowers you were passing in the park.

"... I used to water those for you, y'know." He pointed to a cluster of marigolds. To think that was ten years earlier and they still stayed put, growing outwards and stronger than ever.

"I used to check on them every day to make sure they weren't dying. You told me one time you really liked those flowers and I just..." he smiled a little at the memory. "I just couldn't get enough of your smile every time you saw them."

You turned to look up at him. You had absolutely no clue he did that for you. It made you love the flowers even more, and your heart jumped a little when you realized that the marigolds were the very reason George insisted you both took the trail all the tine.

"I'll still come across them when passing flower shops. I always think of you when I see them."

"Wow. George, I... I never knew you paid that much attention to me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."

And George didn't say anything after that, especially when you didn't respond to his last comment, which he didn't even mean to say.

By the time George could think up a sentence to save himself from friend-zoning the both of you right then and there, he felt like he'd left it for too long.

His heart was sinking, and he tried to shake off the comment best he could, and walked you the rest of the way home.

His stomach was in a knot as he looked up at your apartment building. The front door to the lobby looked intimidating, and his palms began to sweat again. You slipped your hand out of George's, and it distracted him from his racing thoughts.

"You think I'm gonna just leave you here?" His question was sudden, and you blinked once.

"I'm sorry?" You looked from George, to the apartment door which was ten feet away from the both of you. "But George, I'm home?"

"I have to walk you to your door." You laughed at his response, head thrown back as you sighed. "You mean to tell me you, George Harrison, are gonna walk up five flights of stairs in the next two minutes just to make sure you can hear me lock my door and know I'm safe?"

"Would it be a real date if I didn't?"

There was another beat of silence as George watched your eyes shift from left to right in thought. You pursed your lips a little, and then looked him in the eye.

"... Suppose it wouldn't be then, no."

"Then may I walk you to your door, Y/n?"

You finally answered him with a simple nod of your head, and George reached out to take your hand again. He wordlessly led you to the door which he opened for you, and then brought you to the flight of stairs. Nowhere else to go but up.

In about two minutes, you and George got to the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the hall, it felt like the walls were slowly closing together as you both took quiet, careful steps towards the end of the way.

The entire time, your hands were glued together, and no one let go, even when you were both finally stopped, and standing in front of your door.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Y/n. I know you were saying earlier tonight turned out perfect and everything but..." George's brain was still on that platonic comment he made on the walk.

"George, there is no one I would have rather spent tonight with than you. No one."

George squeezed your hand, and then sighed. "I just wish tonight happened under different circumstances."

"Different circumstances?" You repeated a little confused, and the boy in front of you pursed his lips and nodded his head.

Deep breaths. Here it goes.

"Y/n, ever since I found out about this date, my blood has just been boiling with jealousy for that boy. Hell, I still don't even know his name and I could tell you he isn't good for you."

You looked taken aback. Jealousy was definitely not where you thought he was going with all of this.

"I fell in love with you, Y/n. Years ago. And because I feared rejection, I didn't want to take my chances and say anything. But the truth of the matter is that I'd be the happiest person alive just to be able to love you openly. I can't stand to see you cry the way he made you tonight."

Again, you stood there, no words coming to mind to respond with. Your silence didn't make George stop.

"To think for years my feelings for you haven't gone away. I've always thought you felt the same, yet you were never mine." George paused. "When can this boy get you back again, Y/n?"

There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours for your answer, and you were staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

"I-- if I'd known-- I never thought-- George, I had no clue." He could see the lost look on your face, and it made his heart ache, especially when your lip began to tremble and your eyes started filling to the brim with tears.

"Why do you think I turned down every guy who's tried to get with me? I just... I never thought you'd love me back, Georgie." His emotions sank into a deep dark guilt. All this time, and you felt the same way about him...

And then he blinked.

You feel the same way about him!

George reached out to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your tears began to fall, and he pulled you into his chest tightly for a moment. "My Love," he mumbled, pulling away just far enough for him to see your face again.

"Oh, even when you're crying, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on..." There was a beat of nothing; just the sound of shallow breaths shared between the both of you before George began to inch in slowly towards you.

"... George, what are you doing...?" Your question was gentle, and you didn't stop him from coming any closer. You didn't want to stop him.

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

His attention fixated to your mouth once before your lips finally clashed together.

For over a decade, George had waited for the moment he tasted your lips; and now that it was here, he was almost scared he wouldn't know what to do.

The both of you were holding your breath since you both felt a little unsure at first, but it was a given, he was kissing his childhood best friend, and you were, too. You kissed back a little, and George exhaled lightly through his nose, a little relieved knowing you were getting a little more comfortable with the situation.

George's hands fell to your waist, fingers curling around your body as he eventually pulled you even closer. You parted your lips a little, and he bit down on your bottom lip, pulling away after hearing you gasp.

"Oh! Did I hurt you? I'm--" George could barely rush an apology out before you pulled him down to kiss him again, and pushing him backwards until his back was flat against your door. He watched as you closed the space between you again, and your lips were on his again.

His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and all the boy could remember thinking about was how blissful it all was in that moment. George threw his arms around you and started pushing back just a little.

You pulled away from him to gasp in a breath, George's hands grabbing your arms and pinning you against your door so he could put you in the place he was moments before; to give you the moment to experience just a fraction of all the love he would be able to eventually give to you.

His lips briefly found the crook of your neck and you moaned quietly as George sucked at your skin a little, which only resulted in him pulling away just to lean back in to kiss your lips and swallow your pleasant hums.

You eventually pulled away to face him again, lips swelled and pink, and breaths quick. You never thought you'd have so much trouble breathing while kissing someone.

Then again, it's not everyday that the man you're kissing is George Harrison.

"I know it's rare to ask this on a first date but..." George leaned down to attach his lips to the column of your throat, and he hummed against your skin when you moaned gently, delaying your question for a moment.

"... Did you maybe wanna, I don't know, come in, stick around for some tea?"

"Is that even a question?" George asked lowly against your neck, and you smiled. You reached into your purse to retrieve your apartment keys, which you blindly stuck into the keyhole since George was back to kissing you again, and the both of you stumbled through the door as soon as you got it open.

You and George kicked your shoes off after shutting the door, and you pushed him up against the wall in the front corridor to kiss him once again.

Ten years was way too long for the both of you to be deprived of one another any further, and George gladly let you migrate your lips to his neck after a moment, tilting his head back for you to make things a little easier.

With your head buried into his neck and your arms circled around one another, George lazily opened this eyes to watch himself in that same mirror across the hall he looked into a few hours prior.

All the boy could do was smile to himself, breathing heavily as he watched your reflection switch to the other side of his neck after leaving a mark on the right side of his throat.

Not only was his reflection successful in this date tonight, but George himself pulled off the biggest risk he could imagine and it paid off.

He finally got the girl of his dreams.

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

A/A/N: honestly, this fic lives rent free in my head and it has been since I wrote it, so I gotta show it off to y'all. Again, I know it was long, but I really hope you enjoy it <3

PERMENANT TAG LIST

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moiraineswife · 3 years

Text

Jasnah and Wit - Presentation Meta

Part 1 of the great saga of Witsnah “WELL ACTUALLY” metas I plan on doing bc y’all have just pushed me That Far.

Well hello there. I’m GRUMPY. And what I do when I’m grumpy is I channel it into a little thing called spite meta. That’s what this is. It’s me angrily yelling for several thousand words about why this thing is a GOOD thing, actually.

Today’s subject, the much controversial post Rhythm of War canon pairing that is: Wit/Jasnah.

So let’s (angrily) explore why this is actually a positive thing for both characters, on a nuanced, meta, character analysis level. Because that’s the only level that I have.

I admit, I was sceptical and uncertain. But when I actually sat and thought about this for a hot second...It started making a lot of sense to me. And then I thought about it for, like, a hot minute, and it made a LOT of sense to me. And now I’ve thought about it for a hot month, so come. Step into my thoughts, and I will explain my perspective on this all…

Firstly we’re going to talk about clothes. Yes, clothes. Clothes and what they symbolise for this pair, together and individually.

He was immaculate, as always, with his perfectly styled hair and sharp black suit. For all his talk of frivolity, he knew exactly how to present himself. It was something they’d bonded over. - RoW, 64

Wit and Jasnah have bonded over the idea of presentation and the effects it can create. Both of them have used this idea to great effect multiple times in the series. Wit displays himself as a more appropriate form of an Alethi highprince at war - a crisp, tailored, military suit in a colour that makes him instantly and easily identifiable in a crowd. It’s part of his subtle mockery of those around him - that the King’s Wit is a better presented highprince than the REAL highprinces. It also makes him recognisable, and it makes him seem professional and able to move easily in high society.

Equally, we’ve seen him take the guise of a poor beggar so as to sneak into Kholinar and go unnoticed and dismissed when he sneaks into the palace to recover Design in Oathbringer.

Jasnah, meanwhile, gives a memorable and impactful speech to Shallan at the beginning of Words of Radiance about the illusion of perception. About how by presenting herself as a princess, looking the way others expect, she is able to effectively use her authority. And would be able to similarly do so if she simply convinced people she was a princess, by manipulating their perception of her.

Both Jasnah and Wit understand this idea - of presenting yourself, not necessarily in the way you want to look, but in the way you want others to look at you. Creating for them the thing you want them to see, which enables you to better be that thing.

It also runs deeper than that. They’re not just people who like to dress well. They understand that this has a power to it. They understand the effect it will have over others. And it’s this deeper thing that I believe they’ve bonded over.

Because they don’t simply appear put together in their clothes; they appear put together in their everything. Wit and Jasnah are people who are consistently calm and composed regardless of the situation. They do it in very different ways. Jasnah with calculating stoicism and intellectual calm. Wit with indifferent frivolity and nonchalant acceptance of what’s happening around him.

The core effect is the same. When the walls are crumbling down, the armies are sweeping in, and everything’s on fucking fire, Wit and Jasnah are two people you expect to be able to look to for direction and a bit of sanity amidst the chaos.

They’ve both cultivated personalities and personas that revolve around appearing and seeming in control and unperturbed whatever is happening. It’s like their whole Thing.

So the presentation is not only about clothes and make up, it’s about who they are deep down as people. The fact that they’re always the strong ones. Always the ones in control. Always the ones who aren’t panicking despite the fact that everything’s on fucking fire.

They’re people that others EXPECT to behave a certain way. There’s a predictability to them. A dependability. In Wit’s case, it’s that you can rely on him to be esoteric, confusing, and unpredictable, but still.

There’s a pressure in that. There’s a pressure in always being THAT put together. In always being THAT on top of things. In always being THAT person who can never break down screaming when things go wrong because that’s not who they are and not what people expect. They have to be more than that. They have to be BETTER than that.

They’re also people that other characters tend to other/deify. Shallan remarks several times about Jasnah being inhuman/beyond ordinary people, and even goes so far as to compare her to the divine, despite her being a heretic.

Wit, meanwhile, gets asked if he’s a Herald, has that odd air of always knowing things that he shouldn’t, and being in places he shouldn’t at the right times.

They’re both ‘positively’ outcast. And I don’t mean that in an overly posh English way and being positively outcast, darling. What I mean is that, instead of being shunted outside of the circle of normality, they’re both placed on pedestals above it. Which is a different sort of outcast, but comes with its own package of problems.

And this brings us to: vulnerability. Because they’ve bonded over this presentation thing, but they’ve ALSO bonded over the fact that they’ve found someone they don’t have to do that around all the time. Someone they can let their guard down with and just be themselves. Someone they don’t have to present and perform for. Someone they can just be HUMAN with.

So we’re going to look more closely at the clothing aspect of this. Because there’s symbolism here, and it deeply interests me. With a focus on Jasnah, because Wit’s a mystery by design, and Jasnah’s got some more intentional stuff going on here I feel, re narrative symbolism.

So from the moment we’re introduced to her, Jasnah always looks immaculate. She always looks perfectly put together. Shallan remarks multiple times on her havah, on her make up, on the intricate and perfectly done braids of her hair. Which is a little bit gay on Shallan’s part (which is valid) but it’s also significant, symbolically.

I talked already about Jasnah’s idea of ‘power is an illusion of perception’, but I feel it’s worth coming back to. Both because of how much it shapes Shallan, but also how much it shapes Jasnah, and informs what we know about her.

Jasnah is ALWAYS put together. She is ALWAYS perfectly made up, the absolute ideal of the perfect Alethi princess. Even in scenes of distress or ‘downtime’ scenes - such as waiting for Shallan in the hospital, or visiting her after her betrayal, or the relatively more relaxed setting being on board the Wind’s Pleasure. The text makes a point to note that Jasnah is perfectly done up and presenting exactly as she wishes.

The times we see slips in that are DEEPLY interesting to me.

The first one I want to look at, briefly, is That Controversial Scene in the way of kings, where Jasnah uses Soulcasting to kill the men who attacked her and Shallan in the alley.

Just prior to this we see her bathing, where Shallan still remarks on how composed Jasnah is. This is also part of her presentation. She’s entirely naked, but that illusion is still up. She’s still more in control than other people are fully clothed.

What I find interesting is the specific note that Jasnah does not take the time to have her hair braided before she sets out with Shallan. It’s mentioned as being unbound a few times.

Symbolically, I like this, because I feel like it speaks to a slight loosening of her usual control. There’s something about that scenario that sets Jasnah on edge. There’s something about it that makes her feel.

Besides, men like those…” There was something in her voice, an edge Shallan had never heard before.

What was done to you? Shallan wondered with horror. And who did it?

Shallan is unnerved because Jasnah seems calm. But I get the sense, from this line, and from the intense repetition of how unnaturally composed Jasnah appears, that her composure is a front. And that if we had her perspective on this scene, it would look very different from how Shallan imagines it.

There’s something driving her here. Something beyond the logic she explains to Shallan, about making the city safer, about the guards not doing anything, about how innocent women will not be able to protect themselves from this, and how she wanted those men gone. All of which I believe is true, but that line from Shallan, and the way in which Jasnah goes about this...It feels personal. There’s something else going on behind the scenes that we don’t know or understand.

Regardless. This is the first time we see Jasnah step out of the cultured, reserved, stoic scholar. She’s something other than an ideal Alethi princess and studious mentor in this scene. And the detail of her hair being unbound, contained, wild, for the first time since we’ve met her feels..Significant. It’s an important detail to linger on, I think.

Which brings us to the next exception to Jasnah’s exceptional presentation rule: her murder!

Even in the scene before where we see Jasnah, arguably, the most vulnerable that we’ve seen her, in the cabin when Shallan confronts her about her fear of the upcoming apocalypse. It’s only a moment. Only a moment of genuine emotion that Shallan manages to glimpse before the mask comes back.

This was not the Jasnah that Shallan was accustomed to seeing. The confidence had been overwhelmed by exhaustion, the poise replaced by worry. Jasnah started to write something, but stopped after just a few words. She set down the pen, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. A few dizzy-looking spren, like jets of dust rising into the air, appeared around Jasnah’s head. Exhaustionspren.

Shallan pulled back, suddenly feeling as if she’d intruded upon an intimate moment. Jasnah with her defenses down. Shallan began to creep away, but a voice from the floor suddenly said, “Truth!”

Startled, Jasnah looked up, eyes finding Shallan—who, of course, blushed furiously.

Jasnah turned her eyes down toward Pattern on the floor, then reset her mask, sitting up with proper posture. “Yes, child?”

The text notes in this segment that Jasnah’s poise and presentation is a mask, but it also describes it as her ‘defenses’. This is her armour. It stops people looking too close. It stops them reading her emotion, her weaknesses. This is also one of very few times we see Jasnah attracting spren in the series.

However, even in this scene, clearly exhausted, overworked, and overwhelmed, Jasnah remains perfectly put together. All of her armour, her immaculate havah, her make-up, her braids, are all in place. Even in this moment.

Which makes a stark contrast to the next scene we find her in where she’s dressed only in a “thin nightgown”, and is lying on the floor with a sword in her chest. The vulnerability of unexpected assassination.

When next we see Jasnah, in the epilogue, is when she’s freshly spat out of Shadesmar after an apparently harrowing ordeal.

Her clothing was ragged, her hair formed into a single utilitarian braid, her face lashed with burns. She’d once worn a fine dress, but that was tattered. She’d hemmed it at the knees and had sewn herself a glove out of something improvised. Curiously, she wore a kind of leather bandolier and a backpack. He doubted she’d had either one when her journey had begun.

Even in another plane, apparently being hounded and in fear of her life, she’s managed to acquire some appropriate clothing, a glove, and a damn bandolier. Because of course she has. Perception. Iconic.

After that we don’t see her out of anything beyond her famous havah-braids-make up combo. Even when she’s with her family, and Navani remarks in her setting down the mask of the queen, she remains masked. There are still defences up. She never fully lets her family in on her plans, or her thoughts and fears.

No, the next time we see her symbolically, and emotionally, vulnerable: is with Wit. Perhaps for the first time, fully, without ANY of her usual masks and pretences, and under her own steam and of her own volition.

Locked away in a central room on the second level—sharing no walls with the outside, alone save for Wit’s company—she could finally let herself relax.

She DELIBERATELY picks a house with a second floor, and an interior room with no outside walls, with multiple fabrial traps to warn of assassins or intruders. But she manages to relax in Wit’s company. There’s a trust there. An understanding. A much needed vulnerability.

Clothing wise, in this scene Jasnah is dressed only in a nightgown and a dressing gown, and is carefully noted to have her safehand uncovered. Jasnah isn’t Vorin, strictly speaking, but she’s still been raised her entire life in a society that views safehands as something inherently sexual/to be hidden. So much so that she takes the time and care to sew herself a safehand glove while in Shadesmar. So all of this is a fairly Big Deal. It’s a Big Deal for anyone. For Jasnah? More miraculous than Kaladin giggling.

Jasnah Kholin is not vulnerable. Jasnah Kholin is never unguarded. Jasnah Kholin never willingly lets her guard down. Jasnah Kholin is absolutely as paranoid as Elhokar, if not more so.

She’s made herself a BUNKER at this point. She’s in an interior room, surrounded by traps, there’s spheres sewn into her dressing gown, and she has a wholeass BOAT waiting for her in Shadesmar JUST IN CASE someone manages to get through: guards, an entire BUILDING, multiple rigged traps, then her, with her plate, her blade, her Soulcasting ability, and all of her wit and skill, to somehow manage to wound her badly enough that she has to retreat to Shadesmar.

This woman does not do trust. She does not do vulnerability. To the point that it is absolutely 1000000% a fault. This IS Jasnah’s greatest flaw. Her isolation. Her mistrust. Her paranoia.

Anyone that comes into her life she’s suspicious of. She blithely warns Shallan about Kabsal stating he’s only using her to get close to Jasnah to steal from her/kill her.

We dismiss this, and look at it as brilliance/Jasnah knowing all, because she’s right. But it’s flawed brilliance. Because it’s the ‘broken clock’ fallacy, you know? If you suspect EVERYONE around you of being an assassin...Well, some of them will be.

Jasnah’s paranoia is another meta, however. But the point here is that: Jasnah doesn’t do anything by halves. She has an ideal for how she wants to live her life and she COMMITS to it. And part of that is her presentation, and the perception she projects, to an unhealthy degree, even around trusted family.

So the fact she has found someone she can relax all of her INCREDIBLY strict and overzealous masking and enforced personal presentation? Is both very significant in terms of her relationship with Wit, but also herSELF?

Because Jasnah NEEDS this. She needs it like Kaladin needs therapy yesterday.

Jasnah is a “strong independent woman” but if you double down on that idea, and follow it up with “Jasnah is a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a man/anyone” then you are absolutely 1000% missing the whole entire point of her character.

All the Stormlight characters are deconstructions of classical fantasy tropes, to varying extents.

Jasnah is the ‘strong independent woman’ trope except asking what if you ACTUALLY apply that to an actual human person? What would that do to them? How would that hurt them? And what it does is everything Jasnah is.

Which has been done so MASTERFULLY because we look at all of these flaws, and these objectively negative things that she does to cope with having this label slapped onto her, and we golf clap quietly in a corner and go ‘wow that’s so badass, that’s so cool, let’s totally romantacise all of these actually deeply worrying coping mechanisms and not look at them at all until Brandon smashes us in the face with them like a baseball bat with the nails of Jasnah’s trauma pounded into it’.

Okay maybe that was SLIGHTLY dramatic. But my point is: Jasnah’s apparent omniscience can also be looked at as extreme paranoia and mistrust.

Her independence and ability to ‘get shit done’ on her own, to the point she doesn’t tell another living soul about the LITERAL APOCALYPSE for more than HALF A DECADE is actually self-inflicted dangerous isolation.

Her constantly being poised, and on her game, and never displaying any emotion is actually extreme repression, to the point her own MOTHER describes her as ‘having the empathy of a corpse’.

Her consistent othering by all of the other characters, from her ward to her mother, deifying her, and othering her, and considering her immortal is actually putting her on a pedestal and cramming an INCREDIBLE amount of pressure to reach an impossible, unattainable, and inhuman level of perfection that becomes so normalised and commonplace that her return from the dead is just like ‘well yeah that’s just Jasnah’.

And all of these things are INCREDIBLY unhealthy!!! They’re not something any real person should have to do just to exist. Especially not in the middle of an apocalypse. When her father was killed in front of her. And then her brother was murdered. And the apocalypse she tried to warn everyone about is happening. And she’s the most experienced Radiant. And she’s also suddenly a queen of her kingdom. Which has been taken over by the enemy btw. And they’re in the middle of a war. And people are dying. And she’s responsible for those people dying. But also some of her highprinces are treacherous bastards. And oh look here’s a couple of slightly mad Heralds she’s taken charge of and- OH MY GOD PLEASE LET HER NAP!?

Again. Slight hyperbole on my end but I feel like I’m #Justified. The point is, her suddenly, after FOUR books, having a single person that she can confide in, and be vulnerable with, and admit she’s afraid, and uncertain, and doesn’t know what she’s doing, and isn’t sure she can actually do this, is not ~anti-feminist~ and it’s not “out of character” and it’s not damaging her ideal it’s actually deeply positive, and healthy, and a symptom of Character Growth.

Jasnah’s is choosing Wit. With her eyes wide open. And she has some reservations about things, because she’s JASNAH, of course she does. But she listens to him. She confides in him. She lets him see HER. She lets him help HER. She admits that she needs that help. She actually says to him, out loud, with full human words, to his face, right in front of him, that she’s frightened. SHE ADMITS THIS!!! Jasnah’s having all this stealth background character development that y’all are sleeping on but I am personally deeply hype about.

And it’s because Wit UNDERSTANDS her. And she understands him. And this is really the crux and core of this whole relationship for me, you know? This whole idea around them always being The Strong One. and finally FINALLY (for him, too) having someone that they don’t have to be strong for. Or regal. Or composed. Or poised. Or in control. Or even knowing what the fuck they’re doing.

She can just...Be. She can ask questions. And show uncertainty. And admit to fear. And to doubt, of herself, of the other Radiants, of humanity in general. And have someone to look to, when everyone is ALWAYS looking at her.

It’s the beginning of an actual support system. Because she needs this SO badly. Because she has her family but she also...Doesn’t have her family? She looks after them. She protects them. From assassins, and then from what was happening in the world/her role in it. Because there’s that line in Oathbringer that she has, about people loving her but still hurting her.

Navani mentions that after she hit adolescence (and after her parents locked her in a dark room and let her scream herself hoarse because they called her mad, lol) she withdrew. And she no longer asked questions. And she no longer wanted a mother, or a support figure, or someone to take care of her. She rejected all notions of that. Because there was something broken there. That trust was gone. And Jasnah will set aside the crown, and the mask of the queen around her family, but she is only fully vulnerable, and fully HERSELF with Wit.

And I cannot understate (i feel like I’m doing a Good Job of not understating this here people) how absolutely fucking ESSENTIAL that is.

Jasnah is NOT a machine. She is not a divine being beyond trauma and pain. She is a human being who has suffered, and who has responses to this.

Jasnah accepting Wit’s support and companionship is as big a step in processing and healing from her trauma as Kaladin accepting he can’t protect everyone and does not deserve to always carry that guilt.

I don’t care if you don’t like the ship. I don’t care if you think it was rushed (there was...a year long time skip. Things did not remain in stasis. Things changed. This is an interesting narrative device bringing us into them and letting us extrapolate backwards). I don’t care if you hate the bones of Hoid and never want to see him on screen: I DON’T CARE.

If you have any respect and regard for Jasnah as a character I need you to acknowledge that this relationship is a positive and healthy thing for her. I need you to see that it’s a step forwards. I need you to see that, from a purely narrative standpoint: this is a thing that should be celebrated for her.

In terms of Wit, too, this is a good thing. I am not about one-sided relationships where only one person is getting something out of it. Even when that one person is the light of my life Jasnah Kholin who deserves all the things ever.

For all his talk of frivolity, he knew exactly how to present himself. It was something they’d bonded over.

Coming back to this RoW quote let me make things as abundantly clear as possible re why I’ve bonded over this ship: They’re kindred spirits. They understand each other. In a way that no-one else has understood them for Jasnah possibly ever, for Wit in a very very very very very very very very very long time.

They’re both brilliant. They’re both intellectually at the pinnacle of humanity. They both know that. They’re also both damaged. They both cover up that damage with a carefully crafted presentation. Jasnah’s is regal composure and Wit’s flamboyant nonchalance, but it’s a mask in both cases.

They understand each other. And they understand the need to have what they’ve found in one another: someone they don’t have to be that way around. Someone they can just be with. Someone who understands why they have to be that way with everyone else; but can give them the freedom to be themselves.

Such parallel. Much power. Very choice.

I was gonna talk about Other Stuff in this meta but lol. 4k words of clothes screaming later and I feel like maybe this should be part 1 of an ongoing saga. Ahem.

The take away from this is: I totally understand why Brandon put these two characters together. For the amount of characters he has, he actually has relatively few romantic relationships. None of them are done on a whim, and they’re always healthy, mutual, and positive for both characters. They make sense, in short.

And these two as a pairing makes sense. On more than a “”””business transaction””””” level of them wanting and getting information out of one another. It makes sense even if there was no Desolation, and no threat to the world, and they were two randomers who met in a tavern and connected.

There’s a personal connection there. There’s an intimacy, and an understanding, and a sense of looking into another person’s eyes and saying ‘yes. You know. You feel it too’. They go through life in much the same way - standing out, never quite fitting, never finding anyone on their level that can relate to them or compete with them or challenge them.

They have someone who can fulfil them. Someone who can actually meet and exceed their abilities for once. But equally someone who can ground them, and meet them at their lowest point, and allow and even encourage that vulnerability.

TL;DR: this relationship is positive for both characters, and healthy, and important for both and this is a hill I WILL fucking die upon. Just watch me.

More metas to follow. Bc I have more to say. Not as long as this one, in all likelihood, bc I feel like this is the Lynchpin argument for this pair. But still. More to say.

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

New Romantics | Part Four

18+

Summary: She needs help studying for her Case Exercises at the Academy, He needs a date for the annual Banquet... they just so happen to be neighbours who aren't afraid to lend a helping hand, or in this case, a helping kiss.

Categories: Fake dating, neighbours, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, Angst with a happy ending, Smut *as selected by my poll on what you wanted to read*

Warnings: Season 9 Spencer (no Maeve arc), Angst, kissing, drinking, police training mentions, case details, canon typical violence, self-doubt, autistic!spencer, age gaps (24/33), FWB relationships, anxiety attacks, crying, misunderstandings, oral sex (both), penetrative sex, Perv!Spencer low-key, public sex, quickies, multiple orgasms,

Word Count: 5k

a/n: what could possibly go wrong next?

She’s been asleep barely 2 hours when he shakes her awake, “Hey, when did you need to get ready today?”

“Uh?” She sits up and rubs her eyes, “we don’t have to leave until 1 so, like 11?”

“It’s 8:30, did you want to stay and sleep more?”

She looks at him and sighs, “are we okay?”

He nods, “can we just call it even?”

“Sure,” she agrees without knowing what she did wrong. It was more than just snapping on Tuesday, which is what she was still hurt over. “But I’m going to go, I need to change and stuff.”

“Yeah,” he nods but his smile is sad and she knows she’s fucking it up more.

She gets out of his bed, once it was the warmest bed she’s ever known. Any bed she shared with him was, but now it felt cold and uninviting and there was an unspoken knowingness that they were both genuinely upset.

“I’m still your fake girlfriend for the next 24 hours… can we make them count?” She asks, avoiding eye contact so he can't see her cry if he says no.

“Come here?”

She gets back into the bed and she cuddles into his chest. He holds her for a moment, “you’ve been the best girlfriend in the whole world. Do you really still want to be friends after this? Have I fucked up that bad?”

“Oh honey,” she places a hand on his cheek and looks at him softly, “I will be your neighbour, your best friend, your co-worker, carpool buddy, coffee friend, girlfriend, whatever you need as long as you’d like to have me around.”

He remembers the first time she said that and she knows because his smile is the same. “I love you.”

It hurts, “I love you, too.”

She kisses him quickly, attempting to pull back when his fingers grip her hair and his tongue is on her lips and she’s following his lead again.

“No,” she whispers, “I can’t.”

“Oh,” he stops and his hands drop to his sides so she can get back up.

“I’m going to go get ready, but I’ll come back when I’m done?”

“Yeah,” he nods again.

It breaks her heart to get up and go, she grabs her shoes and she sneaks out of his room, finding her keys in her pocket, she opens her own door and cries the second the door closes.

She cries in the shower, she cries while fixes her hair, she cries while she has lunch. Every song reminds her of the situation, every section of her apartment reminds her of him, the stupid door where they first kissed is closed and she wishes he was stable enough to bang on it and demand an answer.

Whatever was going on between them was reaching a bubbling over point, she can only store so much emotion before she explodes on him.

As soon as she is in her dress, makeup on and ready to go, she walks into his apartment to find him struggling with his bowtie, it makes her smile for the first time since she left his room this morning, “need help?”

“Yes, please.”

She walks over to him and repeats the same movements he attempted, making the bow look pretty before smoothing her hands over his dress shirt and looking up at him. “Handsome as ever.”

“You’re always beautiful,” he compliments her right back but his voice is still as sad as the night before.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on in there?” She pries, tapping his temple with her index finger, “you’re my best friend and I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“I heard what you said yesterday,” he whispers, “about how if you were just using someone you would have picked Derek.”

“And?” She doesn’t get why it’s a big deal because it makes perfect sense to her in her mind.

“And it hurt me,” he snaps, “quite a lot!?”

And the dam breaks.

“Because I proved to them that I’m not using you? Spencer do you know what I meant by that?” She snaps right back.

“What else could it mean?! Clearly I’m not hot enough for you to just fuck and toss aside—”

“I meant that I love you and that’s why I’m with you! If I was just using someone for a job then I’d fuck Derek cause he’s a one and done, toss them to the side and never see them again, kind of guy!”

“And?” He repeats her word choice in a snippy tone that makes her furious but she knows he’s just trying his best to understand her.

She sighs loudly and obnoxiously, “and you’re a take him to meet your mom, marry and have his babies, love him for the rest of your life and one day scatter his ashes, kind of lover.” Crying by the end, she wipes her tears and tries to stay somewhat presentable-looking.

He’s silent, eyes wide as he takes in all her words, “I have always loved you,” she adds, “and no matter how fucking angry I am or how stressed or upset, I am never going to stop loving you, Spencer.”

“Me either,” his tone is still just as upset, “and that's the part that sucks.”

“What do you mean?” She just poured her heart out to him and he still doesn’t get it.

“I LOVE YOU!” He screams it at her with his hands thrown in the air, “I love you more than I’ve loved anyone in my entire fucking life and it’s driving me crazy!”

“It’s driving you crazy?” She can’t help but laugh like she’s losing her mind, “I have been doing everything in my power to make you understand that I love you and you keep thinking I just want to be friends!”

“Because you said you loved me like a friend the first time?!”

“No, I fucking didn’t!” She is so frustrated she’s turning the same colour as her dress, steaming from her ears like a cartoon character.

“I asked if best friends can be in love because I wanted to see if you would say you loved me more than that, and then you fucking said “yeah cause that’s how I love you” which means you love me as a friend?!”

“Because I thought that’s what you wanted?!”

She can’t rub her eyes cause she’ll ruin her makeup but she is so mad she just wants to scream. Pressing her fingers to her own temples, she turns away from him and sighs, she loves him so much and yet this is the most frustrating thing that’s ever happened.

“You are so lucky,” she just laughs, shaking her head back and forth as she turns back to him, “you are so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Why?”

She wraps her arms around his middle and looks up into his eyes with one last sigh, “we have to go or we’ll be late, so I can’t explain all of my feelings right now, so let’s bench this conversation and I can show you just how much I love you when we get back?”

“Okay,” he nods. He rests his hands on her arms and he looks down with the softest glance, he’s still trying so hard to not cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“So am I, I should have listened to you better and explained myself more,” she whispers, “do you believe me now?”

He nods, “I told you, it’s hard for me.”

“I tried my best to be subtle so I didn’t scare you off, but I guess you really don’t do subtle?” She can’t help but laugh, “but I really do love you.”

His hands are on her cheeks, pulling her into a kiss, she melts against him. He breathes her in, it’s the longest and deepest kiss she’s ever had and she honestly feels like he’s taking her soul and making her his. She belongs to him and she knows it, now he does too.

“I love you, too.”

—

All eyes are on her and it makes him smile, she’s the only one in a red dress in a room full of black and white, she stands out like a sore thumb. She looks the most beautiful, she stands beside Spencer with her arm wrapped around his and a huge smile on her face, it makes him even happier to see her smile again.

The hardest part of fighting with her was knowing she was upset and that he was only making it worse. Seeing her smile return is everything to him, he loves her more than words can express and she loves him right back, he can tell by the way she smiles at him; because it’s exactly the same way he’s smiling at her.

“I see that you’ve made up,” Derek interrupts their current dance to say hello.

The BAU team was always so busy on nights like this, they had all the best stories and everyone wanted to hear them, which meant they typically didn’t see each other a lot for the whole night.

“We did,” Spencer smiles. “Thank’s Derek.”

She looks up at them both, confused, “how many of them know?”

“Huh?” He plays dumb but she can see right through him.

“Do they all know I’m not really your girlfriend or is it just Aaron, Derek and whoever else you told?”

“Elle,” he says her name. “I told the first girl I slept with that I was falling in love with you because I needed advice from someone who has already been with me and knows how I get.”

“Sick, cool, love that for you,” she smiles and walks away.

He grabs her and she stops, “I told you how much it hurt that I had no one to talk to and you told all of them? And you couldn’t even tell me you really loved me this whole time? I thought we were best friends Spencer?” She shakes her head, disappointed more than anything, swatting his hand off her as he reaches to stop her.

“Let her go, she’s right to be a little mad,” Derek holds him back. “let her be mad.”

“Why?” Spencer is so new to relationships he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“She wants to be your girlfriend for real, let her calm down and then go apologize and ask her,” Derek's smile is sweet as he pulls Spencer into a hug.

It slowly becomes a dance, everyone is used to Derek being touchy with his friends, he has danced with everyone so far tonight so it’s only fair Spencer has a turn. Spencer holds him tight, eyes closed so he doesn’t have to think about all the attention he’s been getting since they arrived.

“Thank you for always being here for me,” he whispers, “but I have to go see her.”

“Fights like this just make your relationship stronger, it teaches you how she wants you to communicate, she just wants you to be honest with her, always,” he whispers with his cheek pressed to Spencer's, “and angry make-up sex is really fun.”

It makes him laugh, “thanks, but she won’t be sleeping with me for a few days, if my memory is correct then she’s mad for more than one reason.”

“Ah,” Derek gets it, “good luck my friend. Good luck.”

When Spencer pulls away, he heads in the direction Y/N left and follows the hallway as far as it goes. She’s sitting on a bench by a window, staring off at the night sky as she takes some deep breaths. She looks a little more peaceful, she’s had a really rough few weeks and he’s not making it any easier on her.

“I know two things for sure,” he speaks softly but she still jumps a little as she turns to him.

“What would they be?”

“That you’re the love of my life,” he’s confident as he sits on the bench beside her and takes her hand in his. “And I’m an idiot when it comes to love.”

“That is quite the dilemma,” she smirks, her eyes gleam as she looks at him and he knows she was trying not to cry by how glossy they are, but it makes her more beautiful, somehow.

“I’m really sorry.”

“All you have to do is tell me the truth, Spencer,” she places her hand on his leg and leans in with a whisper, “it’s really simple.”

“Truth is,” he whispers right back, lips close enough to kiss, “I’m never going to stop loving you, which means more stupid moments are in my future. Just so you know.”

She giggles and kisses him quickly, “I don’t mind being the smart one in the relationship, but you still have to ask.”

“Will you be my girlfriend and let me love you for the rest of my life, no matter how much I fuck up and drive you crazy?” He teases her, knowing she’ll say yes regardless.

“On one condition,” she can’t hide the smirk on her face and he’s nervous at what she’s thinking.

“Anything?”

“You let me love you for just as long? If not longer.”

He nods, “forever?”

She nods back before kissing him just as deeply as they did that morning, her hands in his hair as she presses his face into her’s with force. She holds him there and breathes him in, pulling back with a classic smooch sound, she smiles again, “you’re my boyfriend now.”

He nods with a small smile, “what should we do first as boyfriend and girlfriend?”

She bites her lip and pretends to think about it for a moment, “fuck in the linen closet down the hall?”

“I don’t have any condoms on me?” Is his only worry, not getting caught, not that all their bosses and superiors were there, just that he didn’t have a condom.

She pulls one out of her bra with a smile, “Savannah gave this to me about 3 minutes before you came over here.”

“How much make-up sex do they have?” He asks as he takes her hand and leads her down the hallway.

She’s giddy and smiling, her heels click on the floor as they rush to the other end of the hall and open the little door. There are shelves with towels and rolls upon rolls of silverware in cloth napkins. A vacuum in the corner, some brooms and just enough room for them.

She pulls him in closer and shuts the door, reconnecting their lips as she pushes him up against it. Hands reaching for his belt she kisses down his neck and he’s like putty in her hands as soon as she strokes him, he moans by accident and she covers his mouth with her free hand.

“Do you have any idea how turned on you make me? I have wanted to fuck you since I first saw you, 6 years ago…”

“Really?” His muffled voice behind her hand makes her laugh. She removes her hand and instead runs her fingers through his hair while taking a moment to look at him and really take it all in.

“Yeah,” she nods, “which is why I asked to sleep with you on the way home from the bar, I didn’t know if I could handle it either it, but I’ve always wanted Doctor Reid from the BAU to rail me. I just didn’t think we’d end up falling in love?”

“No one has ever admitted to having a crush on me and meant it,” he whispers.

“I’m glad I get to be one of your firsts,” she smiles again before he pulls her into another kiss.

She kisses the side of his mouth and then his jaw, down his neck and then she’s dropping to her knees in front of him. He’s hard in her hands but he twitches as he sees her like this, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes as she strokes him, she flattens her tongue and taps the tip of his cock to it.

He has to cover his own mouth or else he’s going to get them caught, he moans at the feeling, closing his eyes and that's when she takes him in her mouth. His free hand is in her hair, careful not to mess it up but enough grip to steady himself.

He tilts his head back against the door with a knock and a sign, “fuck,” he can’t help but talk into his hand which only makes it sound louder in the tight space.

She feels so good every single time and yet this one feels different, he looks down at her and she pulls off, “what’s wrong?”

“I love you,” he shrugs.

He helps her back up to her feet and she backs up against the shelves, “come here?”

He helps her hike her dress up, holding all the material up as he slips her underwear off and takes that condom back out of her bra with a single kiss to her chest. He rolls it over himself and lines up with her, her arms wrap around his shoulders as she looks at him, “show me how much you love me?”

He slides in and they don’t break eye contact as she takes him, her mouth opens in a silent gasp at the feeling, her hands grip his shoulders tighter as she steadies her ass on a shelf and wraps her legs around him while he bottoms out.

With a hand on her cheek and one on her lower back, he pulls out and thrusts back in with a smile as she bites back a moan, she pulls his face in close to hers to kiss him while he fucks her. The hand on his cheek slides down her neck, applying a small amount of pressure that makes her breathing hitch. She swallows sharply before his hand starts to trail over her breasts and then between them.

With a thumb on her clit, he fucks her a little harder while rubbing his thumb in a circle. She’s breathing heavily into his mouth, placing sloppy kisses against each other as they enjoyed each other.

She’s so close and he knows it, and then there is a knock on the door.

“Spence, we have a case when you’re done?” He hears Derek's voice behind the door and he can’t believe it.

“Okay!” He calls back without stopping, instead, he fucks into her a little faster.

“Oh!” She moans by accident before covering her mouth with a slap and wide eyes, moaning behind her hand as she bounces on his cock.

He kisses her hand, making her move it so he can press his lips back to hers and absorb all the noises she was going to make, her hands both reach for his back, gripping his suit jacket so tight he’s afraid she might rip it.

She cums with a shocked gasp, it’s as quiet as possible but it still echos around them as he gets closer and closer. He buries his face in her neck and accidentally moans as well as he cums, stilling his hips as he holds her there, sputtering his hips against hers as they catch their breath.

“I love you,” he manages to say between breaths, “that much.”

“You need to go,” she smiles.

He kisses her one last time before he pulls out, he loves the way she gasps every time he does so. She smiles after, their teeth clashing as they laugh, “I’m going to get in so much trouble.”

“I’m never going to get a job,” she shakes her head as she gets off the shelf and fixes her dress.

He takes off the condom and wraps it in some paper towel on the shelf, he’ll get rid of it later. She picks up her underwear, he thinks she puts them back on, but she really slides them into his pocket for him to find in the middle of the case when he reaches for something important...

—

She rides back to headquarters with Penelope and JJ, both of them want to ask and she knows it. Mainly because she looks like she’s had sex, and also because she asks to stop at the academy so she can get another pair of underwear from her locker.

It’s not until they’re in Penelope’s office that they ask, “what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” She plays dumb.

“Dating Spencer?” Penelope says, “more specifically, having sex with him?” She mumbles and it makes Y/N laugh.

“In total, we’ve been having sex for 3 weeks now and I’ve had 21 orgasms, and we only really fuck on the weekends cause that’s when we’re not busy…” she grinds her teeth slightly with a raised brow, taking a deep breath, “yeah. It’s really great.”

“Holy shit?” They both look more shocked than she’s ever seen them. “How many has he had?” Penelope asks with a quiet voice, pretending she didn’t.

She laughs slightly, “like maybe 14? He’s really generous.”

“What the fuck?” JJ turns to Penelope and shakes her head and there’s something more there that Y/N can sense.

“Who’s Elle?” She asks and they both turn to her with the biggest eyes.

“How do you know about Elle?”

“She’s the first person he slept with?”

“When?” They both shout.

“So he wasn’t kidding. You guys really thought he was a virgin this whole time?” She looks at them like they’re crazy. “How?”

They both just shake their heads and sigh, stuttering and looking for words they don’t have. “We just never thought he could?”

“Snooze ya loose, I guess?” She shrugs, “so what is the case and how can I help?”

“Right! We have a case,” Penelope snaps back into it, “but seriously Elle? Are you sure you have your names right?”

“Penelope,” she looks at her seriously.

“Right, they’re headed to Roanoke.”

There was a child abduction of a 6-year-old girl, CARD and the BAU were both called out and that meant everyone was mingling on the two floors and they would use as much help as possible.

It also turns out that Anderson’s surrogate went into labour a little earlier than anyone expected; so he and his husband have left for paternity leave early. Leaving JJ without an assistant and she really needs help in the office for this one.

She catches on rather quickly, knowing the protocols from her training and she’s not afraid to ask questions. She’s still in her dress, her heels click on the tiles as she rushes around with files, making phone calls and running from the briefing room to Penelope’s office.

When they finally crack the case and apprehend the suspect, she sits down finally. It’s been 11 hours since the banquet, and she was exhausted beyond belief. She never slept the night before, Spencer was uncomfortable and she was in her jeans and when she did fall asleep, he was waking her up moments later to get ready.

It's Sunday morning at 9 am when Spencer finally returns back at headquarters. She’s sitting at his desk when he comes up and wraps his arms around her, “we’re going home, come on.”

“Don’t you have to debrief?”

“Did that on the way back,” he turns her around in the role chair and tilts her head up to look at him, she’s so tired and he can tell. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” she stands up with his help, “I did enough profiling today and now I have a whole week to get through.”

“Just to come back and work here,” he smiles, “if you still want to?”

She wraps him up in a real hug and nods against him, “it’s so fun, even with all the murder.”

“Coming home to this is really nice,” he whispers before kissing her cheek quickly, “I’m glad you like it here.”

“Well, well, well,” Derek's voice is behind them. They pull away to see him smiling, arms wide as he saunters over, “if it isn’t the new romantics.”

“Did you have any suspicions?” Y/N asks, he was a profiler after all.

“I knew something was up,” he’s honest. “I knew you guys were actually doing stuff together, I just didn’t think there was so much angst behind closed doors?”

“You have no idea,” Y/N laughs, holding Spencer closer, “it took too long.”

“I thought you were fighting about the job, cause he wasn’t really upset until you were in Penelope’s office, and I heard the rumours even before he heard what you said,” Derek smiles again, “but I also knew you loved him and he loves you.”

“Correct,” she can’t help but smile. “But we really should head home.”

“Home we go,” Spencer agrees.

—

She asks him to unzip her dress the second they’re back in her apartment. She drops the dress to the floor and heads to the bathroom and he’s left alone in her room. It feels different now. He remembers kissing her in the living room for the first time like it was yesterday, he remembers the first time they had sex, the first time he said I love you, and now he’s here and she’s his girlfriend and he’s going to get to make more memories with her.

He’s so embarrassed by how much he’s been crying lately, something about being in his mid-30s was making him feel like he was about to go through menopause— he has never been very openly emotional, but it’s about time he lets himself feel. He wipes the tears and turns to face the wall while he takes his suit off.

He’s been through too much, a lot of which she doesn’t know of. She has promised him forever, whether she means it or not, and he’s worried he’s going to fuck it up before he gets there.

When she comes back, she lays a towel down on her side of the bed and gets in, “guess who got her period on her first day of work?”

“No?” He gasps, playing along with her playful mood. “At least you’re not pregnant.”

“Thank god,” she sighs, “please for the love of God, don’t get me pregnant for at least 5 years? I want a decent career first so that I don't miss much on maternity leave. I really don't want to be benched for having kids.”

He cries again and she looks so concerned as she gets out of bed and wraps her arms around him, “what did I say wrong, Spencer?”

Still facing the wall, he just lets it all out, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, sweetheart?” She attempts to soothe him by running her hands down his arms, “for crying or something else?”

“Crying,” he whispers and she turns him around then.

“Hey,” she looks up at him with the softest expression he’s ever seen, “you are allowed to have emotions, you are allowed to show them and ask for help and tell me when you need something. I’m not going to think you’re too much, or I can’t handle you or think of you as a burden. I know that’s how you feel because it’s how I fell, and we don’t need to go through that together.”

“I love you,” it’s the only thing that feels right to say.

“I love you,” she repeats it, “what made you cry?”

“Can we get in bed first?”

“Yeah, finish getting ready and then come tell me,” she whispers before reaching up and pressing a kiss to his lips.

He slips away to go to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face. He’s exhausted but he doesn’t want to miss any time with her. He hurries back to her side, getting into bed in his underwear and making sure both his phones are on the night table, charged and ready if they need him.

But until then, he belonged to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?” It’s the first thing he asks because he knows she has a big day tomorrow. “It can wait.”

“What’s that thing you say about intermittent sleep is actually better?”

“Don’t use my words against me, I do that so people don’t stop me from doing what I think I deserve,” he’s truthful. “I’m not going to ever lie or fib to you again. I hate myself, and if I don’t feel like I’ve done enough I won't sleep or eat sometimes.”

“I do that too,” she’s not proud, “are you trying to tell me you cried cause you’re hungry or tired?”

“No,” he smiles, “but thank you for asking for clarification, I like this new system.”

“Me too.”

“I cried because I really love you and I’m realizing this is all real and I’m going to get to make good memories with you, and when you said kids, even in a hypothetical sense, it made it feel real for me,” he whispers the words before pressing his lips together awkwardly.

She glows in the lap light like she did that first night, “it’s a weird concept, isn’t it? The future. At some point I’m going to have known you longer than anyone, one day we’ll have lived with each other longer than we’ve lived apart. We might be grandparents together one day? It’s all weird to think about.”

“Do you seriously want all that with me?” He’s asking because he has another question to ask right after.

“Yes, Spencer,” she laughs. “I really do.”

“Would you like to Marry me?”

“Seriously?” Her eyes widen and her jaw drops and he’s never seen her look this stunned before.

He nods, “my mom isn’t going to able to appreciate my wedding the longer I wait, and if you really mean it; I’d like to have a wedding with my mom there while she remembers me.”

“I know her birthday is coming up, but can we bring her here instead?”

“Why?”

“My parents decided to drive from Salam to here for my graduation and use the flight money on a nice Airbnb for the week. We should do it while they’re all here because I don’t know when they’d be able to come back,” she has had the same worries about her parents missing her life.

“I’ll ask my mom,” he smiles. “So we’re getting married?”

“in like a week,” she laughs, “oh fuck, how are we going to do that in a week?”

He rolls over and grabs his personal phone, he dials a number and she looks even more confused now.

“Hey Penelope, how fast can you plan a wedding?”

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New Romantics:

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#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #new romantics

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Gavin’s Long Journey Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 长旅之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This date was released on 8 July 2021 ]

Deers rest peacefully beside me, and birds caw from the branches.

All of a sudden, a rustling sound of flapping wings disrupts the peace in the forest.

Smiling subconsciously while tilting my head upwards, a gigantic griffin descends from the sky.

MC: Welcome back, Griffy! Have you been eating and sleeping well?

I walk up to it, burying my face in the griffin’s fluffy chest fur, letting out a happy sigh.

??: You’re only welcoming it?

The voice I’m most familiar with drifts from the griffin’s back. After that, a figure leaps down smoothly.

MC: Gavin, welcome home!

With a turn of my face, I smile while giving him a wave.

Gavin is wearing simple and informal clothes. However, the extraordinary way he carries himself and the exquisite crown on his forehead could only belong to a prince.

He bows before me in a teasing manner, handing me a small bag. Even without opening it, I can smell the fragrance of pastries.

Gavin: Goddess of Nature, I bring you this round of offerings. But stop sharing them with these animals. They’ve put on weight again.

MC: They’re only cute when they’re round and plump.

I retort, unconvinced. Even so, I pinch the squirrel on my shoulder, placing it back onto the tree.

MC: I have also mentioned that you don’t have to bring me any offerings. The person who made the agreement with me was your mother, and I've already accepted sufficient offerings from her.

Despite what I said, I open the little bag that Gavin gave me, grinning while taking out the pastries.

As a deity, I’m basically adept in everything within my own forest. However, I lack the skills and abilities to bake such snacks.

As such, I’m exceptionally happy whenever he brings me such food.

While eating, I continue speaking with unclear articulation.

MC: When your mother came to the forest that year with a jewel which had been passed down from generation to generation, as well as her crown your deity father once gave her...

Gavin: With those items as offerings, she hoped that you’d become my guardian deity who would keep me safe and train me till I became a passable king.

When deities accept human offerings, they reciprocate by bestowing blessings onto humans. This way, a wonderful transactional relationship is formed.

Back then, a queen had brought her son of around fourteen or fifteen years of age to my forest.

That elegant and dignified lady was smiling, but there was faint worry in her eyes.

She told me that her days were numbered, and that she wouldn’t be able to watch her son grow up.

The child’s father was a high-ranking deity who was busy maintaining the earth's order and rarely showed himself.

As such, she gave me offerings, hoping that I'd become her son’s guardian deity, and to protect this small prince.

Gavin does a stretch, then removes the saddle on Griffy.

Gavin: You’ve said it many times, and I remember it all.

Gavin: Instead of these things, why don’t you eat quickly? I specially bought the basket which just came out from the stove, then rushed Griffy over. The pastries won’t taste good if they get cold.

Gavin draws out his tone, but a smile remains on his lips.

I turn my head towards Gavin, who is helping me manage the medicinal plants with a practised hand. I can’t help but ponder softly in my heart.

This person doesn’t let me protect him much...

Although this half deity obtained the added protection from the Goddess of Nature, he has never asked for assistance aside from guidance.

He has always strived for the things he wanted, and would persist through failure until he reaches his goal.

Later on, this prince who excels in both learning and military skills, and can even control wind, is the one who helps me out.

He always brings me all sorts of human food and small trinkets, calling them offerings.

Gavin: Why are the medicinal plants here turning bare again... did I water them too much?

I can’t help but laugh secretly while walking over to his side. Holding up those medicinal plants, I restore them to life.

Till this day, he only lets me help him in this area.

I think about how despite not having been coronated king, Gavin has long since been able to run a country.

As a guardian deity, I haven’t neglected my duties, have I?

MC: Come to think of it... Gavin, why haven’t you held a coronation ceremony?

Gavin pauses in his movements.

Gavin: Do you want me to become king?

MC: Of course.

Gavin: But if I become king, it means that you’d no longer be my guardian deity.

MC: That... is correct.

Gavin averts his line of sight, and he doesn’t seem to be in a good mood.

This seems to be the case every time I broach this topic with him.

Clearing my throat, I attempt to change the topic to break the awkward atmosphere.

MC: Oh yes, how many days will you be staying this time?

Gavin doesn’t respond. As though he has finally made a certain decision, he sighs deeply and lifts his head, meeting my eyes directly.

Gavin: The reason why I came this time is because there’s something important I needed to tell you. I’ve decided to succeed to the throne.

The overly abrupt news leaves me dumbfounded on the spot.

Gavin doesn’t elaborate further, and continues.

Gavin: Before that, I intend to follow the ancient text and collect the rumoured offerings that deities cannot refuse. That will allow a strong deity to become my new guardian deity, to protect me, and to protect this country.

Hearing his resolute words, my heart feels slightly upset.

Although completing my agreement is a good thing, why does my heart feel empty?

He even said he was going to find a new guardian deity...

I blink a few times, unable to comprehend the feelings churning in my heart.

Gavin: But right now, you’re my guardian deity. Which is why I hope you can accompany me on this journey. Is that okay?

Gavin looks straight at me, his eyes as transparently clear as a cloudless amber sky.

Facing such a him, I can only nod.

Despite not yet rationalising my emotions, I reluctantly embark on this journey with him.

The first stop of this journey is the forest in which fairies live.

Looking at the first treasure recorded in the ancient text, I heave a long sigh.

MC: A crystal which can counteract all sorts of curses. It only grows at the tip of the World Tree...

Gavin: What’s wrong? Deities don’t like it?

MC: It’s the opposite. No deities have refused such an offering. To be honest, even I want it. But...

I lift my head. Looking at the giant tree which plunges into the sky, I have a bad feeling.

MC: You have to know that even though I’m a deity, I was born from nature, and the source of my strength comes from the forest and the land. Which also means...

I’m not good at flying.

Likely hearing the implication of my words, Gavin doesn’t hold back, chuckling softly.

MC: Gavin! Don’t laugh! At that height, even a griffin would have difficulties flying up there. Furthermore, people are good at different-

Gavin: Get on.

Gavin leaps onto the griffin, lowering his head to look at me.

The griffin releases an excited caw, its wings flapping up and down.

Faint morning light caresses the side of his face, the gorgeous rosy glow wilfully painting the azure sky.

His hair and indigo cloak roll up with the air currents, the crown on his head reflecting arc lights.

And on his face, there’s a heroic valiance even clearer and more radiant than any jewel.

For a moment, I’m left slightly dazed.

As compared to any other moment, I can clearly sense that he is no longer that little child who had his brows tightly furrowed back then.

The person before me has shed off his childishness, is sufficiently intelligent, and sufficiently mature - a person who is about to become a young king.

I always knew that he was someone worth having faith in.

But there seems to be something else in his eyes that causes my heartbeat to accelerate uncontrollably.

Likely seeing that I haven’t moved in a long time, Gavin leans over, pulling me in front of him steadily, his arms wrapped securely around my waist.

Gavin: Let’s go.

With this soft statement, the griffin, which had been anticipating this for a very long time, flaps its wings, soaring towards the azure sky.

At the same time, a powerful gale whizzes under Gavin’s beckoning.

Using the wind as wings, we fly very, very high.

Gavin: I wanted to take you flying like this since a very long time ago. But I wasn’t able to find a suitable chance.

His words land on my ears amidst the fluttering sound of wind - high-spirited, clear, and without restraint.

I can hear the throbbing of my own heart, reminiscent of the bits of feathers in the air, drifting along with the breeze.

With Gavin around, Griffy doesn’t have to exert much effort, landing at the crown of the World Tree.

There is a rich display of light and colours on the dense and green treetop. Amidst the various lights, a cluster of dazzling crystals emit a tender and dream-like colour.

Gavin: Looks like this is it.

He plucks a crystal deftly, storing it in the travelling bag he carried along.

Seizing this chance, I take several deep breaths to calm the inexplicable throbbing in my chest.

MC: Since we’ve successfully obtained the first item, are we heading to the next destination? Or are we resting here for the night?

Gavin: We’ll set off straightaway. But give me a moment.

Gavin reaches out to pluck a few smaller crystals. Using a few branches around us, he weaves a simple bracelet, then clasps it around my wrist gently.

Gavin: Since you like it, bring a few more back.

Just as he finishes speaking, a few fairies who were grinning among the leaves earlier rush out towards us.

Fairy A: Congratulations! May the fruits of the World Tree protect the two of you forever!

Fairy B: Congratulations on your marriage! I wish you two everlasting sweetness!

MC: Huh?

Watching as the fairies start to sprinkle flower petals over our heads, my face burns with a “whoosh”.

MC: [blushing] What nonsense are you saying?

The fairy grins while speaking once again.

Fairy B: Firstly, don’t the two of you play together often, and like each other more than others?

Very few humans enter my forest. Aside from the small animals, the only one who visits me frequently, chats with me, and has fun with me is Gavin.

As compared to those small animals which aren’t able to talk or bring me snacks, it’s true that I like Gavin a little more.

With this thought in mind, I nod.

At the side, Gavin nods too. But for some reason, the tips of his ears are slightly red.

Fairy A: Secondly, didn’t the two of you make a unique agreement with each other?

Not knowing where this is heading, I nod again. After all, I’m Gavin’s guardian deity.

At the side, Gavin does a similar action.

Fairy A: Lastly, he made a bracelet for you using the crystals of the World Tree, then put it on for you personally. Doesn’t that symbolise that you’re destined for each other?

The fairy says this matter-of-factly, and the surrounding fairies agree in succession.

MC: Wait wait wait wait, this is a misunderstanding! We’re...

The words are at my lips, but I pause.

It seems that I’ve never considered how to define my relationship with Gavin.

I’m his guardian deity, but I can vaguely sense that it goes further than that.

In the end, Gavin takes half a step forward, blocking me from the celebrating fairies.

Gavin: That’s just the tradition of fairies. Humans and deities don’t have such rules. She’s a guardian deity belonging only to me.

The heating stove is bright red, and the sound of forging is unceasing.

??: Drink quickly, drink quickly! There are many more barrels!

The dizzying fragrance of alcohol permeates the air. Even if it’s dispelled by the breeze, it lingers for a long time.

??: You’ll only enjoy yourself to the fullest by accompanying it with the best quality cheese! Want a chunk of smoked meat too?

The bustling marketplace is rife with people hawking their wares, cheese, smoked meat, fruits and perfume. The dazzling lineup leaves one overwhelmed.

??: I didn’t expect that humans could drink as well as us! Not bad!

??: After all, he’s a half deity!

A circular table is in the middle of the lively marketplace, surrounded by dwarves who are adept in iron casting.

Aromatic mead courses through the crevices of the crowd and the small path, being sent to the table in a continuous stream.

MC: Gavin, are you sure you can still drink?

This is the first time I’m seeing Gavin drink this much. He wobbles a little while standing beside the table. Fortunately, his eyes are still sober and clear.

Gavin: I’m fine.

Gavin: [to the dwarves] We agreed that as long as I can outdrink all of you, you’d give the rarest treasure of the dwarves to me - a golden belt praised by all the deities.

Dwarf A: We never lie!

Dwarf B: Goddess, try some!

Before I can refuse politely, Gavin has already pulled over the wine cup offered to me, drinking it in one mouthful.

Gavin: I’m the one competing against all of you.

Whether it’s due to the mead or the nearby heating stove, my face grows slightly warm.

Another barrel of mead is finished, and the alcohol-loving dwarves at the table have already collapsed.

Gavin presses the wooden wine cup onto the table heavily. Arching a brow, he raises his volume slightly.

Gavin: You’ve lost.

Dwarf A: Fine, you win! The belt belongs to you! But...!

The dwarf stands up wobbly and burps. In front of Gavin, he pats his own chest.

Dwarf A: There’s... there’s something even more... important that I must do! Axe! I want to make an axe - the best axe - and give it to my beloved lady!

While saying this, he runs and staggers towards the forging stove. The dwarves in the surroundings cheer him on and whistle.

MC: What’s happening this time...

The dwarf is inebriated, but his limbs remain deft. He holds up a hammer and picks a chunk of steel which has been scorched red. Then, he begins hammering it with clanking sounds.

Dwarf A: Half Deity! Come here!

Dwarf B: Come and make something too!

The dwarves are rowdy, and they bring Gavin over to a forging stove, teaching him how to forge weapons.

I head over curiously. Gavin seems to think of something. He glances at me, a smile surfacing on his lips.

Then, he holds up a chunk of mithril and gives it a detailed look, as though visualising the shape he wants to carve it into.

After a while, Gavin picks up the iron hammer, hammering in a decisive manner.

Sparks dance in the air, and the flames from the stove are exuberant. The clamour and sounds of hammering are incessant, bringing the celebration of the marketplace to a climax.

Dwarf A: Done!

Cheers erupt from amongst the crowd. That drunk dwarf raises the axe he had forged, then runs towards a small stall in the marketplace.

Dwarf A: This axe is for you, my beautiful woman! Please marry me!

Even from across the marketplace, the loud voice of the dwarf drifts over clearly.

Dwarf B: Hahahaha! Not bad!

The dwarf at the side chuckles so hard that he isn’t able to straighten up. He takes several deep breaths to calm himself down, then turns around to speak to Gavin.

Dwarf B: Half Deity Lad, you too. Your skills are pretty good for a beginner! If you have a beloved lady, don’t hesitate. Just propose directly!

At the other side of the marketplace, the proposal succeeds. A brand new celebration and banquet has already begun.

I don’t bother about the joy which is about to drown us. I simply look at Gavin.

Perhaps he’s drunk a little too much. Right now, he’s staring fixedly at the short staff he forged, a look of contemplation on his face.

What the dwarf said earlier echos in my ears, akin to a mystical magic spell.

Looking at Gavin, I find myself wondering if he’d give that short staff to me.

Would he smile while looking straight into my eyes, or would he avert his gaze in embarrassment?

I’m left dumbfounded by these inexplicable thoughts.

Perhaps I’ve also drunk a little too much.

Early the second day, we bid farewell to the dwarves, preparing to continue the journey.

MC: I didn’t think we’d witness a wedding. It’s a pity that we couldn’t hear more about how they met and got to know each other.

Gavin: Mm. I’m also really curious.

MC: It’s rare to see you interested in such topics.

Gavin: After all, meetings are special things to me. Meetings and keeping each other company are very beautiful things.

Gavin’s tone is gentle, as though he’s recollecting his most treasured memories. Pale gold sunlight illuminates his eyes, which are even more dazzling than the most expensive jewels.

In this short trance, a fleeting yet unrealistic thought burrows into my mind without notice.

I shake my head forcefully, and decide to say something to distract myself.

My gaze quickly sweeps around the surroundings, then locks on a target.

MC: Gavin, do you still remember how we met Griffy?

As though he didn’t expect my sudden question, Gavin blinks a few times, then strokes the grown-up Griffy, chuckling as he speaks.

Gavin: Of course I remember.

Gavin: Back then, my mother had already passed on for a few years. And that deity father never appeared.

Gavin: Perhaps because of those things, I had a pretty bad attitude towards you during that time. Sorry.

Till this day, I can still remember that period of time.

His amber eyes, which always sparkle and shine, were dyed with a heavy grey. Even his hair, which always sticks up, had drooped listlessly.

But it’s precisely because I was always by his side that I understood the heartbreak and struggles he faced during that period of time.

And I rejoiced that at the very least, I was there to keep him company.

I walk towards him, reaching out to tousle his hair. Gavin leans down and comes slightly closer to me, a peaceful smile on his face.

Gavin: In short, I came to the forest one day.

Gavin: It was raining that day. I walked to the vicinity of your small house, and discovered that you were taking care of a small, stray griffin which had wandered here from somewhere.

Gavin: You’re a goddess, but you didn’t care about yourself, and only cared about shielding the griffin from the rain.

Gavin: You treated its wounds and fed it, while getting drenched by the rain yourself.

Along with his depiction, memories surge into my heart, and they are dyed with a hazy colour of rain.

MC: I recall how you shielded me from the rain with a large leaf. Back then, I was thinking about how rare it was to see such gentle moments from you.

Gavin: Since then, I...

Gavin’s voice grows softer and softer. He turns his face away a little unnaturally.

MC: Since then?

Gavin ignores my question. He simply clears his throat and hands me something.

Gavin: MC, this is for you.

Accepting it subconsciously, the cold and smooth texture of metal causes me to hold my breath.

It’s the short staff he had personally forged yesterday.

His emblem is carved on the body of the staff, and a quality gem is mounted at the tip.

MC: This is...

Before I can say anything, Gavin hurriedly explains.

Gavin: I’m a human, so I don’t follow the traditions of dwarves. In the culture of humans, giving a handmade gift to someone is a form of etiquette to express gratitude. So... this is a thank you gift. Thank you for teaching me so much, and for taking such good care of me.

MC: I... I see!

Gavin speaks calmly and appears utterly composed.

Accepting the short staff, I turn around to pack my items. Recalling the image that surfaced in my mind earlier, my face burns again.

Clearing my throat, I ask Gavin a question tentatively.

MC: Gavin, according to your customs, what would you give to your bride?

Gavin: I’d craft a ring personally.

While saying this, he takes my travelling bag and fixes it onto Griffy’s back. Then, he picks up the ancient text to confirm our next destination.

MC: When that time comes, I’ll definitely pluck the most beautiful flowers in the forest and make a wedding bouquet for your bride.

Holding a wedding and having a partner - these are things worthy to be happy about.

But when I said this, I found that I couldn’t bring myself to smile.

It’s as though my heart is drowned in deep water. It feels acrid, and there’s also a tightening in my chest.

I’ve lived for a very long time on this land, witnessed the construction and destruction of many kingdoms, and experienced battles and peace since the ancient times till today.

Yet, I’m unable to understand the feelings I’m currently experiencing, and what they signify.

After that, we head to many other places together.

We cross the dessert, fly over the ocean, scale the highest mountain peak, and head to the deepest abyss.

We dance in a sea of flowers along with the odes of travelling bards, and bargain with a gigantic, greedy dragon.

The treasures in the travelling bag increase in number. Every treasure obtained makes it increasingly clearer that this dream-like journey is about to come to an end.

On an unknown empty island, Gavin and I sit side by side on the shore, watching as the waves at our feet lap against the rocks.

Looking at the pearl head ornament Gavin just gave me, my voice comes out hoarser than expected.

MC: What will you do once you become king?

Gavin: Quite a number of races are interested in humans. Perhaps I could try broadening trade. I also have to revolutionise the senate.

He talks about his responsibilities earnestly - from commerce to ruling the country, from art to food.

Gavin’s dead seriousness tickles me to laughter.

I console myself with the thought that even after he becomes king and I’m no longer his guardian deity, our relationship wouldn’t change that much.

Gavin suddenly stops mid-speech, as though deliberating something.

I turn my head, only to see the reddened tips of his ears.

Gavin: Also... I want to marry the lady I like and make her my queen. This way, I can always be with her.

Gavin looks afar off, his gaze gentle, as though he can see his desired future.

For some reason, I want to rush towards that future with him.

And I suddenly realise what that acrid feeling twirling around in my heart is.

Without realising it, my feelings for Gavin have been intertwined and encased by a sense of possessiveness.

I don’t want him to have another guardian deity, nor do I want him to give these treasures we’ve collected together to another deity.

Most of all, I don’t want him to put a personally crafted ring on the finger of another lady.

The sea breeze rolls up tiny, light blue flowers on the beach. They dance in the air, floating towards the ocean.

At this moment, all the clamorous emotions and feelings quieten down, and are crowned a name and definition -

All of this is called “liking”.

The journey is about to end.

Griffy returns us to the ground.

Looking at my forest and at my little courtyard, I feel as though everything happened a lifetime ago.

Gavin: It’s nice to be home.

Gavin retrieves the travelling bag, then pats the fence at the door.

Gavin: Wait. Why do the medicinal plants look even healthier than before I left...

I tug onto Gavin before he can check on the medicinal plants.

MC: The journey has already ended, and you’ve collected sufficient treasures. Are you going to succeed to the throne after this? Looks like my agreement with your mother has been fulfilled.

Gavin: That’s right. But aren’t you going to let me rest at your place and have a drink of water?

MC: You have quite a number of things to handle after this. These treasures need to be offered to the deity. And you also have to... marry the lady you like. You should take action quickly and settle these things at one go!

I give him a stern expression, trying to conceal the childish impetuousness in my heart.

Gavin: Do you think the deity will really like these?

Gavin doesn’t leave. He stands in place, his words bringing with them a smile.

Looking at the full and bulging travelling bag, I feel tremendously envious.

MC: Of course. Who was the one who picked them with you? All right, go and offer them to your new deity. Who are you looking for? I could put in a good word for you so he or she would give you a little more blessings.

My voice grows softer and softer, and my gaze flits around.

Gavin: If she’ll like them, I can put my mind at ease.

Gavin speaks softly, but doesn’t respond to my question. He takes the travelling bag, placing the treasures we’ve collected on the grass before me.

The crystal from the top of the World Tree, the golden belt crafted by the dwarves, the unwilting flower from the deepest part of the desert, the coral from the deepest oceanic trench...

Aside from the recorded treasures, there’s also cheese from the dwarves’ marketplace, a headscarf from sea nymphs, sun-dried jerky from the giants, and other miscellaneous items.

These items were brought along with Gavin because I liked them.

After setting down the last item, he takes half a step back.

Then, he gets down on one knee, tilting his head upwards to look at me.

Gavin: Goddess of Nature, I give you all of these offerings. Please bestow blessings upon me, protect my country, and crown me.

Gavin: And please make a long-lasting agreement with me, to become my queen, and to keep me company.

Gavin: Till death do us part.

Gavin looks at me, his sentiments and tenderness condensing into honey coloured amber.

Sunlight filters through the leaves, landing on his face like a kiss, making his eyes bright and glittering.

MC: [blushing] I...

Before I can respond, Griffy caws happily, giving me a nudge from behind, causing me to fall into Gavin’s arms.

MC: [blushing] Griffy! I didn’t raise you to be this big so you could do that!

I grumble, pretending to be stern. Then, I close my eyes defeatedly, burying my head in Gavin’s arms, not wanting him to have a clear view of my blushing face.

Gavin’s soft chuckle and his breaths land on my ears, akin to the first tender breeze in early summer.

Gavin: I used to worry that the reason for our interactions was due to that prior agreement.

Gavin: Once the agreement ended, you would no longer have a connection to me.

Gavin: I was troubled by this for a while, and also tried to delay that day from arriving.

Gavin: But one day, I made a decision.

Gavin: Instead of holding on to that past agreement, why don’t I make a new vow instead.

Gavin tilts his chin towards those treasures.

Gavin: But I don’t want you to simply be a goddess who responds to my prayers.

Gavin: This journey was meant for you to understand that my feelings for you aren’t simply the dependence humans have towards their guardian deities.

Gavin: I just don’t know how effective it was...

Gavins speaks, averting his gaze.

Recalling the hints and occasional bashfulness during the journey, I finally understand everything, and my face turns incomparably red.

MC: [blushing] Right from the beginning, you already...

Gavin coughs softly.

Gavin: So, are you willing?

Watching as his eyes draw increasingly nearer to me, it’s as though a pot of honey has been overturned in my heart, and all the flowers seem to be blooming at the same time.

I lift my hand.

MC: I’m the deity who controls the land, forests, and all the animals.

MC: I hereby make an agreement with you-

The forest seems to respond to my words. Birds outstretch their wings, trees rustle, and the land releases a faint humming sound.

Light flickers at my fingertips, akin to a sprouting bud as it flows and spreads over Gavin’s crown.

MC: I will always protect your kingdom. May your land be forever fertile, and may your kingdom forever be peaceful.

My power weaves my words into an unbreakable vow between us.

As a goddess, these are the strongest blessings I can give to him.

With a small smile, I continue speaking. Softly, I give him the blessings from me as MC, and also my response.

MC: I will also share my life with you, and my power.

MC: I will accompany you for a long time, until the destruction of the earth.

A light blooms, encasing us within it.

Gavin doesn’t speak, and simply looks at me.

I recall the day we saw the sea together, and recall the fluttering light blue petals, and the gaze he had when he stared afar off.

I’m guessing that his gaze has finally found a dwelling place.

The rays of light around us gradually recede, and the vow is established.

This isn’t a lengthy ceremony, nor does it involve complicated steps.

But we have cast a connection different from before - one which is unique in the world.

Having used my powers, I lean into Gavin’s arms, looking at the same sky together.

MC: Aren’t you going to say something?

Gavin: Erm... you really looked like a goddess earlier.

There doesn’t seem to be a change in or relationship. However, there’s a certain sweetness in our dialogue.

MC: I am a goddess! Wait, that’s not what I was referring to. May I invite Your Majesty, who has obtained the goddess’ blessings through his own strength, share his thoughts with us?

Gavin pretends to ponder over this seriously.

Gavin: I just remembered that there’s one thing I haven’t done. I plan to make another trip to the dwarves’ nation.

MC: Did you forget something?

Gavin pulls me up, and we stand together. He pats Griffy, getting it ready to set out.

Gavin: I mentioned before that I’d personally craft a ring for my queen.

Gavin: You also promised that you’d pluck the most beautiful flowers in the forest to make a wedding bouquet.

Gavin: I look forward to seeing it when I return.

🐦 MOMENTS 🐦

Gavin’s Post: If griffins really existed, they'd probably feel quite nice.

MC: Would a griffin’s fur feel like a bird’s or a lion’s?

Gavin: ...I have never thought about this question.

Gavin’s Post: If griffins really existed, they'd probably feel quite nice.

MC: If only we could rear one!

Gavin: We might need a larger courtyard to let it build a nest.

Gavin’s Post: If griffins really existed, they'd probably feel quite nice.

MC: I really want to bury my face in it...

Gavin: Even though we don’t have a griffin, we could ask Flyer if its willing.

🐦 Calls: First ll Second

🐦 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #feedback on whether keeping the text un-italicised is better on the eyes will be much appreciated!

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i-am-a-mes · 4 years

Text

Dream Daddies

Summery: Reader had a bad experience and her daddies help her through it!

Warning: ONLY 18+! Violence, angst, smut, fluff, swearing, polylife, dd/lg relationship, degrading, oral, dirty talk, p in v, d/s relationship, mention of subdrop, subspace,

Parring: Chris Evans x Plus size Reader x Henry Cavill

Word count: 5,466

A/N: Omg! You guys are seriously the best!! Thank you for the follow, likes and interaction. I appreciate every single one of you. As a little thank you, I got a One-shot for you. (Okay it’s really a long-shot, because I can’t control myself ;))It might be something I would add to from time and time again, when my mood strikes ;)Here it is, my first one-shot, based on a absolutely wonderful dream I had! Not beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Don’t own any pictures in the header

My masterlist

Dream Daddies

"Hey.. stop for a moment"

I turned around to see a rather tall skinny man in his late 40s with frizzy hair came jogging over to me.

"Uhm yes, can I help you?" I looked at him and then around me since I was getting a weird vibe from him already.

We were standing in the corridor just outside my apartment. I had never seen the man before in my building and it gave me a slight chill up my back.

Maybe he's visiting somebody in the building, I thought.

"Ah yes you can actually. I'm new in the building you see, just moved in 34C over there. He pointed to the door slightly across from mine.

"Oh. Well welcome to the building" I began fiddling with my keys

"Thank you sweetie"

I slightly scrunched up my nose at the nickname

"I was just wondering how much?"

"Excuse me?" I really didn't get the question

"Well you see.. I've been watching you, and I know one when I see one, so how much?"

He came closer and closer to me as his words got lower. I immediately backed up but suddenly my back met the wall beside my door

"I'm sorry sir, but I really don't understand what you mean. If you will excuse me…"

As I turned trying to get away from him, his arm came up and blocked me, while his other hand touched my waist

"Come on.. don't play coy. I've seen you with two different men, and I heard the noises from your place. So how much? Can't be too much for a fat girl like you"

I began shaking and my eyes became cloudy with tears

"Sir, please let me go! I'm not what you think. Please let me go"

He just grinned a slimy smile and began moving his face closer to mine.

A loud sob came from my lips as I stood frozen in place, but as soon as I felt his breath on my neck, it was gone again. I opened my eyes to see that he was gone. I blinked a few times and began looking around, as I heard a grunting noise. To my right I saw the creepy man laying on the ground and a big hulking body looming over him. A body I recognized.

"Chris!!!! Stop!"

My boyfriend Chris was in the midst of punching the guy. I quickly went over to him, trying to make him stop. As soon as he heard my voice and felt my soft touch on his body, he stopped mid swing. He looked at me with wide crazy blue eyes, that softened immediately at the sight of me.

"Chris, please stop! Let him go. I just wanna go inside! Please!"

He scanned my features and saw the evident distress, before taking another glance at the douchebag on the floor. He lifted him by the collar of the cheap shirt he was wearing.

"If you ever as much as cast another glance at my baby I will fucking murder you!"

The man just sobbed and nodded heavily. As soon as Chris got up and let him go, the man scrambled back to his apartment. In one swift move Chris was on me, checking frantically my face, body and everything for signs of hurt og injuries.

"Are you okay baby? Did he hurt you?"

I just shook my head and began crying while nuzzling into his neck. He quickly picked up my thick body and made swiftly his way to our apartment.

Once inside he navigated around the two happy jumping dogs before he placed us on the sofa, with me sitting in his lap with my face buried in his neck, quietly crying. Both Kal and Dodger came over and looked at us with tilted heads and small whines.

"Shhh.. baby! It's okay. He's gone now. It's over! He won't touch or even look at you again."

He rubbed slow circles on my back and placed small kisses on my head.

"Mommy had a bad experience so go guard the door boys." Both dogs nudged softly at my leg before making their way to the door.

"I'm just gonna call Henry okay?"

I just nodded as I kept my face in his neck, taking in his sweet scent that always calmed me down. I could feel him shifting, trying to get his phone out of his pocket, before settling down again, and one hand continuing the small circles on my back.

"Yeah hey man. You need to come home ASAP. Why? Well I found some creep trying to feel up y/n in the hallway and well if I hadn't shown up when I did….Yeah I know man!... Don't worry he would be a fool for trying anything! Trust me!"

I could vaguely hear Henry's voice on the other side of the call.

"She is somewhat okay. I'm just trying to calm her down, but I really think she needs you here too…. Yeah… I know.. Great, see you in a bit."

Chris hung up and placed a kiss on my head again as his other hand began caressing my thigh.

"Is he coming?"

My voice was small and cracked as I sniffled and looked up at Chris, meeting his kind blue eyes.

"Yeah, he's dropping everything and making his way home now"

I just nodded and placed myself back in my little nook.

I have no idea how long we sat there, but as soon as we heard the keys in the door we both lifted our heads to see Henry storm through the door before slamming it shut, making both dogs jump up and bark before realizing who it was.The loud noises made me jump slightly and Chris' grip tightened around me to show me I was safe. When I saw Henry I began crying again and in a split second he was around me. We shifted so I was now curled around him instead of Chris. Henry was sitting on the floor with me in his lap.

"My baby! You okay? Are you?" Henry's voice was laced with concern and I just gave a small response of "yes I'm okay Daddy"

Henry hugged me tight with his arms around my waist, and Chris gently patted my head.

"Babygirl, would you like a bath? With some nice bubbles?" Henry asked after a while

He felt my head nod yes in response.

"Chris, why don't you start that and I'll bring our girl in there."

"You got it! Baby, do you want the strawberry or the vanilla bath bomb?"

Chris' voice came softly next to me. I sniffled and turned my face to look at him. When our eyes met he smiled at me

"Strawberry please Daddy"

"You got it baby!" He kissed the top of my head before disappearing into the bathroom.

Henry shifted as he tried to stand up with me still wrapped around him

"Umpf, up we go baby. Are you still good?"

A small yes came from my lips with a little sniffle to follow.

He took me to the bathroom and placed me on the counter. I could hear the water filling the bathtub and smell the sweet strawberry.

"Darling I need you to let go of Daddy now, so we can get you ready for the bath." Henry's deep voice made me warm all over and per usual I did as he told and loosened my grip around his neck.

"There we go. Such a good girl"

My heart swelled with the praise and a small smile grazed my lips

"There she is. Our beautiful girl"

Both of them stood in front of me and smiled at me with nothing but love and care in their eyes.

"We love you so much baby!" Henry placed a hand on my cheek softly caressing it and Chris placed a hand on my knee drawing small circles on his thumb.

"I love you too Daddies!"

They kissed each of my cheeks and made me smile.

"Let's get you ready for that bath"

Chris returned to the tub and Henry went to grab the bottom of my turtleneck, but I quickly pulled down on it as to keep it on

"What's the matter baby? You know you gotta take of your clothes so you can get in the nice bath Chris made for you"

I blushed and looked down in my lap

"I know Daddy, it's just… " I began gnawing on my lip

"What baby, you can tell Daddy"

Henry looked concerned when I stared at him, and saw Chris come into view

"I wanted to do something nice today for you, a little surprise. But that man…" my eyes began welling up again and tears fell down my cheek

"Oh shhh.. easy baby! It's alright. The bad man is gone"

I nodded in response

"What kind of surprise were you talking about sweetheart?" Chris bent down to meet my eyes and gave me a cheeky grin, which I couldn't help to giggle at.

"I just.. " I tried to hide my face by looking down at my lap. A finger under my chin lifted my face to my two Daddies who had a smirk on their faces

"I put on something… naughty.." I blushed under their stare and fiddled with fingers.

They both chuckled at my shyness

"Naughty huh?" Henry looked at Chris with a glint in his eye.

"Why don't you show us, baby?" Chris asked.

I jumped down from the counter, and immediately felt small standing in front of the two large men that towered easely over me.

I pulled down the zipper on the back of my dark blue knee length skirt that flared around my hips and as it felt at my ankles, I pulled off my black turtleneck. The disregardment of my clothes revealed a sultry lingerie piece across my voluptuous body.

It consisted of a cupless bra with black and burgundy coloured lace details under the wire and around the boobs. A pair of crotchless panties with the same lace details curved around my mound and the backside were only to black strings that curved around my big butt. As an extra layer there was a black choker that had a string that ran between the swell of my breasts and went to a band around my waist and then proceeded to go into two garter belts at each thigh.

I stood there fidgeting with my fingers and swaying with my hips, before casting a glance at my two Daddies. A loud huff came from Chris and a deep growl from Henry as they took in the sight of me. Their pupils were completely dilated and scanned every inch of my curvy body.

“Ahem.. whe.. *cough*.. Where did you get that baby girl?” Chris inquired with a lifted brow

“Well.. I got it online a couple of days ago. Do you like it?” I looked up at them with big eyes and a nervousness ebbing from me since I wasn’t sure if they liked it.

“Yeah…” Chris answered breathlessly and licked his lips while keeping his gaze on my boobs that was spilling out of the cups

Henry just stared at the piece before looking me in the eye.

“Darling… you look absolutely ravishing.” Another deep growl came deep from in him “But as much as I would like to completely wreck you while wearing that...and trust me I think we both would”

Chris nodded eagerly with a hand that palmed his growing erection

“Tonight is not the right time, okay? Something very traumatic happened to you not long ago, and I’m scared that if we do anything naughty you might drop”

Their stares and Henry’s deep voice and words had given me goosebumps all over and I could feel my juices beginning to leak

“But Daddy…” I gave him big puppy eyes in hope of changing his mind since I was now severely turned on by their response.

“No my love. But I do want you to save this for another good time.” He winked at me, but I could hear by the tone of his voice there was no room for negotiation, but that didn’t help a small pout forming on my lips

“Aw dude! She’s killing me right now!” Chris exclaimed while throwing his hands up and turning around towards the bathtub.

I gently peeled the intricate underwear off and stepped towards the bath. Henry held my hands while I slowly sank in the perfectly warm water and soon I was fully submerged in the strawberry scented water. My head peaked just above the big bubbles that Chris had made and I felt like I was sitting in a cloud, a thought that made me giggle out loud.

They both looked at me and couldn’t help the grin across their faces.

“What so funny baby girl?” Chris sat on the edge of the tub.

“It’s like I’m sitting in a cloud! Tihi”

“Yeah it really is. The prettiest cloud I have ever seen” He leaned over and gave me a kiss. I took the opportunity to take a handful of bubbles and place it around his face, giving him a big white Santa like beard, which made me burst out in laughter.

“Oh you think you are really funny huh sweetheart?”

“Ahahaha Yes I really do Daddy”

“Oh you are so gonna get it” He lunged his fingers under the bubbles and began tickling whatever part of me he could get his hands on.

“No Daddy! Help me! Nooooo!” I squealed and thrashed about, making the water and bubbles splashing everywhere.

Henry couldn’t help but chuckle

“Sorry baby, you did this to yourself”

“Noooo! Daddy help!! It’s too much!” I almost screamed while laughing and Chris was just enjoying the playful torture he put me through.

After another minute or so, Henry told us to stop, which I was eternally grateful for, despite him saying it was not to help me, but because of the mess and because this was meant to calm you down and relax you.

“But Daddy, it’s okay. I’m rather good now”

“You say that now, but I know that in the middle of the night your pretty little head will start worrying and you won’t get a good night sleep because of it”

Henry placed himself on his knees beside the tub, bringing a hand to cup my face.

“Why don’t you sit and relax while Chris fills more water in it since he spilled so much of it and I will get you something to drink. Okay?”

“Okay Daddy”

He placed a soft kiss on the top of my head, and patted Chris on his shoulder before leaving the room. Chris gave me a wink before filling the tub with fresh warm water.

“Uhm Daddy?”

“Yes baby girl?”

“Could you maybe light that good candle? You know the one that smells like fresh linins?”

“You got it honey”

Chris got up and went to find the candle and a lighter.

As I sat comfortably back in the big tub and played absentmindedly with the puff of bubbles that surrounded me, my thoughts began to drift.

Thoughts about my love for my Daddies, how they loved me.

Thoughts of our time together and time apart.

Thoughts of doubt when people scrunch their noses at us, especially me.

Thoughts of nasty men thinking I was a hooker.

Thoughts of how he might be right.

Thoughts of how I didn’t do anything in this relationship beside being a sextoy

Thoughts of how my Daddies hated me

Thoughts of how disgusted they thought I was

Thoughts upon thoughts upon thoughts

“I didn’t know what you were in the mood for darling, so I brought your favorite soda and some water, and also got you some gummy…” Henry stopped in his tracks when he saw me looking at him with tears running down my face and my bottom lips wobbling as I sat amongst the bubbles crying quietly

“Oh baby girl! What’s the matter?”

I began hiccuping as sobs broke loudly through me, which made Chris storm into the room with concern all over his face.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, she was just sitting here crying when I came in” Henry began rubbing slow smoothing circles on the bare skin on my shoulder and Chris quickly came beside him and found my hand beneath the bubbles to hold.

“Baby girl, can you tell us what made you so sad?”

I cried some more but began to take some short shallow breaths, before getting wide eyed because I couldn’t get proper air in my lungs. Chris quickly recognized the signs of my panic attack and placed gently my hand on his broad chest before placing his on mine

“Easy girl. Breathe with Daddy. Come on. You got this!... One…” He took a deep breath and I looked scared at him but tried to mimic the breathing from him

“Twooooo… good girl!”

The praise calmed my nerves

“Aaaaand threeeee” As I exhaled with him and he could feel my heart rate falling down he gently kissed my knuckles before caressing my cheek.

“There she is, there’s our baby girl”

I looked at them both, still with tears filling my eyes and gave them a small smile.

“Such a good girl” Henry praised “Is that a bit better?”

I nodded in response

“Wanna tell us what that was about?”

“Okay...”

I took another deep breath before continuing

“I just began thinking about how much I love you. I love you so much. But then the thoughts went to a bad place. How people don’t like me being with both of you. How people think you deserve better. Then, I thought about what that man said… and how he might be right”

“Wait a minute… What did the man say?” Henry looked curiously at me, before looking at Chris

“I didn’t hear anything, he was just trying to feel her up when I got there so I saw red”

Henry just nodded before looking at me again

“What did he say, baby girl?”

“He… he wanted to know how much…” I looked at the puff of bubbles in front of me

“He said he knew one when he saw one… and that it couldn’t be much because….” I wiped some snot from my nose with the back of my hand “Because I was fat”

A soft sob came through me as I began crying again. Henry was quick to place a kiss on my head as he continued rubbing soothing circles on my back.

“Shhh… baby! None of that is true! The only thing that is true is that we love you so very much! We love you so much!!” He placed a gentle kiss on my cheek

"We love you! Every inch of you! We wouldn't want you any other way! Believe us! Fuck what every body else thinks! They are just jaloux that we got such a fucking babe as our girlfriend! And for that sleeze ball in the hallway. He can't even get a lady without paying one. So don't believe a word that comes out of his mouth. And we will make sure he gets thrown out. Nobody touches or make our baby sad!"

Henry nodded eagerly at Chris' words and I just stared at them with big eyes and tear stained cheeks.

"I'm so lucky to have two Daddies that love me. I can't believe my luck sometimes!"

"Well you better, because you are stuck with us"

"Oh the best place to be stuck! Between my two Daddies"

They both groaned at that and we all began laughing.

After the relaxing bath where they both took turns massaging variering limbs of mine and telling me sweet nothings, I finally let them take me out. Henry wrapped me in a big fluffy soft towel and patted me dry.

We then found ourselves on the couch watching a movie while eating some chinese takeaway. Afterwards my head found its way to Henry's lap and my feet on Chris lap.

"Mmmhmm" I couldn’t help the moan from my lips.

"Are you comfy sweetie?" Chris squeezed my feet

"Very much!"

I nuzzled closer to Henry and Chris, and soon sleep overcame me.

In my somewhat sleepy state I heard muffled voices, the deep rumble of Henry and the soft boston accent of Chris talking over my sleeping form. About what I could not tell, the sleep drew me too deep.

When I woke up I laid in our comfy bed, sandwiched between my two Daddies. My head was on Henry’s chest, that slowly rose and fell with his slow breathing, and Chris spooning me with his strong arms wrapped around my thick waist and one hand cupping one of my breasts. I couldn’t help nuzzling deeper into their embrace and inhale their combined scents.

After a while I could feel my bladder being full, so I made my way stealthily out of the cocoon and went to the bathroom.

Then I found one of Henry’s shirts and pulled it over my naked body, and then cast a glance at the two massive bodies in my bed, before deciding to make them breakfast for being so good to me yesterday.

The music in my headphones were blaring and I swayed my lucious hips as I flipped another french toast on to the growing stack of sweet bread. The two dogs were laying closely to the kitchen, watching my antics and hoping for a snack, which I of course supplied.

I twirled around to see if the coffee was ready in the french press and then placed some berries in some bowls.

I didn’t see both of my Daddies in the doorway, just watching me as I danced around in nothing but Henry’s white shirt that was only buttoned with 3 buttons and some knee high socks. But in one of my twirls to the music I spotted them, and it scared the shit out of me, making me shriek and pull my earphones off.

“Holy shit! You scared me!!” I laughed as I skipped my way over to them

“Language” Chris said in his best Cap voice, which made me giggle.

I placed a big kiss on each of them, and both of their hands began to wonder on my body as I stood between them

“No.. no.. it’s time for breakfast!”

“You made breakfast for us?”

“Uhuh… so take a seat I’ll bring you everything…” When they didn’t make any moves I gave them my best scolding face “Quickly, before it gets cold”

They couldn’t help chuckling at my command and with another glance over my body, they sat at our dinner table.

“Wow baby, you went all out. It looks delicious” Henry praised me, and as I placed the last bowl of berries on the table, I sat in his lap with a big grin

“Thanks Daddy! It’s just to say thank you for being so sweet to me yesterday” I kissed his cheek.

“Aw that’s nice, but you didn’t have to. We were just doing our job as your Daddies sweetheart.” Chris grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. I waved my fingers through his hair

“I know, but still wanted to do something for you. I love you both so much” I looked at Henry and then back at Chris

“We love you too”

“With every inch of our being” Henry stated.

I blushed and looked down at my lap, before getting up and taking a seat at the table

“Now, dig in. I hope it’s any good”

“I’m sure it’s absolutely perfect just as you are” Henry placed a kiss on my lips, before grabbing a pierce of french toast.

The breakfast was filled with laughter and comfortable chatter as we enjoyed the cozy morning. Over the course of the meal, I ended up in Henry’s lap and with my feet in Chris’. Henry fed me a strawberry and as I took a bite of the juicy fruit I locked eyes with him and made sure to lick some of the juices off his fingers that held the berry. He groaned at the sight of me and his hand on my thigh squeezed tight.

“Does it taste good baby girl?” Chris asked, and I looked at him with a sultry stare while one of my feet pressed slightly down on his crotch.

“Mmmhmm.. Taste so good Daddy” My voice sweet and almost moanful

A finger on my cheek pulled my face towards Henry and when we locked eyes, I saw his pupils were completely dilated and then he crashed his lips to mine. The kiss was needy and rough, and soon I felt his tongue ask for entrance, which I gladly gave him, and soon they danced in a twirl of passion. I felt two hands making their way up my big thighs, and a hand in my hair while a fourth one buttoned up the shirt, revealing my naked form underneath

“Shit, baby! You are so hot like this” Chris' voice broke the silence and I pulled back from the kiss, to look at him and give him an equally lust filled kiss. Henry’s lips found their way to my back and began peeling of the shirt

“Fuck! I need you baby!” His large hands grabbed my waist and pulled me away from Chris, much to my dismay that was voiced with a mewling sound.

“Clear the table” Henry commanded Chris, who quickly slid the plates and bowls further up on the table with a force that made some of it fall to the floor with a crash.

Henry lifted me and placed me on the big wooden table, and began his onslaught of wet kisses down my neck, shoulder, chest - where he massaged my breasts with eagerness before licking a hardening nipple and then continuing his path down my body. I moaned at the sensation and my hands made grabby gestures towards Chris

“What baby? You want some of Daddy? Want Daddy to touch you?” Chris said in a mocking tone. I looked wonton at him and pouted while nodding yes

“Ah ah! I need to hear you say what you want baby? How else am I to help you?”

“But DaddyyyYYyyy” I almost screamed as Henry was already between my thighs and had licked a broad stroke up my slit. My hand immediately flew to his hair and my back arched off the table.

I looked at him and his eyes shone back at me with mischief as he pulled my hand out of his hair and gave it to Chris, who quickly took the hint and placed both of my hands above my head in a tight grip.

“Tell us baby. What does our baby girl need?”

I tried to pull my arms to me in hope of touching my Daddies again, but to no avail.

“I want… Oh my god!” my eyes rolled back, as Henry had found my clit and began sucking on it, which shot waves of intense electricity up my body.

“Come on baby… tell me” Chris’ voice was low and deep and right by my ear, making my senses go into overdrive.

“I want your dick Daddy. I want to taaaaaAAAaaste it” Henry thrusted a finger into my tight pussy and began licking circles around my clit.

“Such a good girl” Chris praised me

He let go of my wrists so I could take out his cock, all the while he began fondling with my boobs. As his big thick cock sprung free I couldn’t help licking my lips, which Chris noticed

“So needy huh? So needy for Daddy’s cock in your mouth”

“Yes Daddy” I answered quickly before licking the precum on his red hard tip.

“Ah shit! Yes that’s it baby. Take it!”

Chris kept the assault on my chest and I began bobbing my head down his length while taking him deeper and deeper.

I was so caught up in the moment of sucking one of my Daddies cocks I didn’t notice the other had stopped eating my pussy out.

Only when I felt Henry’s thick bulpos cockhead piercing my tight channel, I pulled Chris out of my mouth to let out a loud moan

“Fuck! You are always so tight baby! Gripping Daddy’s cock so hard! You love this, don’t you? Being filled up by your Daddies”

Just as I was going to answer him, Chris thrusted his big dick down my throat, which made my eyes wide and roll back.

Henry then began thrusting his huge cock in and out of me, making me moan around Chris.

“Shit, that’s it baby! Take it!”

“I love this pussy so much! And look at those fucking big tits! Arrh” Henry grabbed hardly at my boobs and squeezed them as he fucked me harder and harder up the table. Chris began facefuckin me with a hand on the back of my head.

I just took it! Enjoying the feeling of my Daddies taking what they needed of me, using me.

With each thrust of each big cock, I could feel my walls tightening and the coil deep within me beginning to wind tighter and tighter.

Henry felt it and one of his hands found my clit and began rubbing it.

“That’s it! You are our little slut, aren’t you? I can feel your pussy wanting to cum. Wanna cum on Daddy's big dick, huh?"

I tried to respond by nodding while Chris fucked my face.

“Look at our little whore, trying so hard to answer with her mouth filled with dick.”

They both went faster and faster, groaning and moaning profanities while I just mewled as I took everything they gave me. Henry thrusted a bit upright and hit the perfect spot within me and combined with the rapid moment on my clit, I could feel my coil about to snap. I quickly removed Chris’ cock from my mouth, before almost screaming

“Can I come Daddy? Please? Can I??”

Henry and Chris looked at each other before both in unison said growling “YES”

Henry pumped his cock in me and as the walls of my slick pussy tightened in a vice like grip, Chris took his dick in my mouth again before brutally facefucking me holding my face in place with his large hands.

With their rough mistraitions I felt the snap from within. Everything went tight and a white light filled my vision as I moaned around Chris, which made him shoot his big load of cum down my throat and Henry snapped his hips so hard as he filled my sore fucked out pussy with his warm seed.

I swallowed Chris' orgasm and when they both pulled out of me, I couldn't help the whimper that left my lips, both out of soreness but also of sadness of the loss of their warmth filling me.

A hand came to caress my hair and a soft sensation was felt on my forehead. I fluttered open my eyes to see Chris standing over me with a look of absolute love and care.

"Hey baby… you okay?"

"Yeah… in absolute heaven"

I gave him a goofy grin

"Okay.. somebody still in subspace"

Henry's deep voice came from between my legs, where he stood gently massaging my thighs before his arms came under me and cradled me into his chest

"You are so big. I love you sooo much!" I tilted my head backwards and looked at Chris upside down

"And you tooOooO"

Chris couldn't help laughing at me and placed a kiss on my chin, making me giggle again.

I felt the softness of our bed under my body, as Henry placed me down, but I held tightly to him not letting go.

"Darling you need to let go so Daddy can clean you up "

I hmpf'ed and shook my head as I buried my face in his neck.

"Baby…"

He tried again, but as I just held on tighter, he just sat down in the bed with me curled in his lap.

"Okay then. Let's just relax my sweet"

I looked up at him with big eyes and gave a big smile, while my hand caressed his cheek.

He took it in his and placed a kiss in my palm

"I love you Daddy"

I felt the bed beside me divit and then another pair of hands touched me, and as I looked over I saw Chris looking lovingly at me.

"And I love you too Daddy!"

“We love you too baby girl”

I looked at both of them, seeing their faces filled with love and satisfaction, I felt so blessed and happy to have my two dream daddies!

Taglist:

@smoothdogsgirl

#Chris Evans #daddy chris evans #chris evans smut #CEvans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x little!reader #captain america #MCU #marvel #Avengers #henry cavill #daddy henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x little!reader #henry cavill smut #oneshot

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loveyhoneydovey · 3 years

Text

best friends to lovers au with Amado

Note: I just binge watched Narcos Mexico again, and this was the result. i got carried away so this is kind of long, but honestly at this point I think everyone's used to my long ass headcanons💀 hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. also, this is unedited

All my stories are written with a bisexual reader of colour in mind, but anyone is more than welcome to read them

Warnings (please lmk if I missed any): death, blood, mention of guns

your friendship begins after you save his little sister from being snatched

one day, his baby sister had managed to rope her bodyguards into taking her to a little corner store after school to buy candy

you found yourself at the same store while on your way home. since it was Friday, you thought you deserved a little evening to yourself with some cheap alcohol and some of your favourite candy.

you were reaching for the last pack of your favourite candy when a small hand bumped into yours. that’s when you first spotted a little girl who couldn’t have been over 7 years old in her school uniform. you noticed the two armed men around her and you were smart enough to know not to ask any questions. you weren’t blind, you knew the city was full of people somehow connected to the cartel, and you weren’t trying to get yourself killed.

for a second you both stared at each other with a look of uncertainty, until you smiled at her and handed her over the pack.

“gracias, señora”, the smile on her sweet face managed to erase any disappointment you were feeling. her bodyguards spotted her as she had managed to briefly run away and were about to make their way to her, when suddenly they both violently collapsed on the ground.

the ringing in your ears made it difficult for you to figure what was going on, but the pool of blood that was beginning form around them made you realize they’d been shot. the people who just killed them were most likely after the girl and you understood you would for sure end up as collateral damage if you did not act now. that’s when your fight or flight instinct finally kicked in. you grabbed the girl’s shaking hand and made a run for it through the backdoor. you weren’t really thinking it through, but you were praying you’d find a way to escape.

you two ended up making a run for it and going to a nearby store, where the owner let you hide. Luckily he knew who the girl was and he was able to call for help

at first you didn’t know who “help” was, until a bunch of SUV’s pulled up and started to retaliate against the initial shooters

you didn’t remember much of what happened after the bullets started flying for a second time, but you’d always remember the moment that you first laid your eyes on the man in black. you could distinctly recall the aura of confidence his presence exuded. he looked like someone you wouldn’t want to fuck with

you soon learned the little girl’s name was Lucia, and she was the daughter of one of Amado’s close friends who had passed away and left her with him. he was taking care of her and treating her like a little sister more than a daughter

a friendship began to form between the two of you and soon, you became the bestest of friends. his chill, laid back personality worked well with your chatty energetic one

your friendship basically consisted of the two of you bickering like an old married couple

lots of roasting, this man has NO pity lksdnfjr, but it's okay because you’re able to dish it back

teasingly calling him “old man” to annoy him and him saying you’re responsible for all his grey hairs

you telling him that’s a lie because Lucia’s responsible for half of them

now can you imagine you and her teaming up against him. you definitely play a few pranks on him

him getting back at the two of you when you least expect it. because in case you didn’t notice, that seems to be his m.o. 🐸 ☕️

but most importantly, you’re each other’s person. you’re both able to talk to each other about everything and anything without feeling judged

he’s a great listener and always asks if you’re looking for advice or if you just want to rant

he is protective!!! and I mean actually protective, not controlling or overbearing

i’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, he respects you enough to understand that you’re capable of making your own choices. so if anything is bothering you, he will offer his help, and if you decline it he trusts you enough to be able to handle it alone

now if you ask him for his help...👀 you won’t be disappointed. someone has been inappropriate with you in any way and won’t back off even after you told them to? oop now they’re suddenly dead. natural causes or accidentally of course😌

omg he totally takes you on trips with him sometimes to keep him company

maybe even introduces you to Pacho when you’re in Mexico

Pacho being able to see that you two are into each other

ok honestly I think Amado would know you’re into him before you two would get together

like this man is super attentive to details, he might be silent but that’s because he’s busy observing

and the feelings are mutual, but he doesn’t let you know that until you confess

i have a feeling Amado would literally tease you into confessing, cause he can be such a little shit sometimes

he’d do the most to make you blush

and eventually he would break you and you’d just be like “I LIKE YOU OKAY?”

jnfedcnsd this asshole would be like “yeah, I know” while having the biggest shit eating grin on his face

you’d stare at him silently for a minute because you didn’t know what you wanted to do more, kill him or kiss him

your anger would’ve won if he hadn’t decided to wrap an arm around your waist while gently tilting your chin up with the other

i mean how could anyone resist those eyes

definitely asks if he can kiss you first, but he has a feeling he already knows the answer

you just press your lips against him instead of a verbal answer

i can imagine the two of you getting lost in the moment, finally completely belonging to each other after dreaming about it for so long

then an exasperated little voice would interrupt you, “finally”

Lucia is prolly your biggest shipper don’t even get me started

#amado carrillo fuentes #amado carrillo fuentes x reader #narcos mexico #narcos mexico imagine #pedro pascal

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throwawayfish · 3 years

Text

𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐱 𝐏𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: it’s never easy to always be in the honeymoon phase of a relationship, but being with the pogue king just needs a bit more effort to keep it that way

warnings: platonic!rafe x reader, angst, language, alcohol use, fighting, lowercase intended, typos for sure

a/n: gifs are mine unless otherwise noted :)

interact with the series masterlist or let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist! ♡

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞, 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

flustered by what just happened, the alcohol in his system seemed to immediately fade away. jj stood up in attempt to go to where you’re at but was stopped by john b.

“you don’t wanna do that.” he snapped his head in his best friend’s direction “what the fuck do you mean?!” he asked as he watched the three sit uncomfortably by how he was acting

“you’re drunk, jj! besides, if you’re going to the terminal she’s probably not there anymore. and it’s definitely not good for the two of you to talk based on your state. wait til tomorrow.” he shook his head, getting out of the grip that kie had on his arm.

“i shouldn’t have forgotten. why didn’t you remind me, pope?” pope’s eyes widened, raising both his hands up from the accusation and disbelief “woah woah woah! as far as i know i reminded you multiple times! it’s not my fault you forgot because you got too distracted by alcohol, so don’t put this on me.”

hot tears stained the corners of jj’s ocean eyes. ruffling his hair out of frustration, he leaned forward and held his knees to support himself from falling.

as the pogues sat in silence, contemplating on what to do with the situation at hand, pope’s phone chimes. everyone looked at him, watching his every move as he looked at the message.

y/n ✨

hey. i’m not feeling so great so i might not be able to go. i hope you guys have fun and wish jj a happy birthday for me.

he forgot. i know you reminded him more than i asked so don’t beat yourself up over it. thank you.

pope looked at his friends and put his phone back on his back pocket. covering for you, he said that it’s extra details on his upcoming scholarship interview.

of course none of them believed it. details for his interview came in emails. they let it pass, except for the blue eyed pogue.

by this time the boneyard was filled with more people than minutes ago. the ones who arrived early not caring about what or who the kegger was for anymore as they went off to be with their friends or find a random person to hook up with.

a sudden wave of change flooded his insides, heaving a deep breath, he stood up straight and smiled “you know what, fuck it. it’s my birthday, i can do whatever i want.”

the car was silent the whole ride from when he picked you up. rafe not bothering to ask you how you are because he didn’t want to be the cause of you reaching your breaking point.

but you knew he was there for you. you knew why he wasn’t talking, and you appreciated that.

peace doesn’t come easily it seems as the only road leading to your place is by the place where the kegger was being held. you sighed deeply, observing the bonfire that was lit with all the people scattered around the beach.

the road was not too far from the sand, so you can still see who was who. and there, nearest to the fire, you saw him. dancing with kie, spinning her around as if she was the only girl in the world.

the floodgates of emotions opened in a snap. your cheeks quickly hurting from the salty liquid that was coming out of your eyes. you stifled your cries as you continued to look out the window, not wanting the boy beside you to notice and likely worry.

but your breathing was getting heavier, making it harder to keep your sobs in. so you let go.

but he knew, and instead of provoking you to open up he just let you be because he knew that you would eventually break and he was ready to comfort you.

“you should talk to him.” he advised, you looked straight on the road and he continued “sort it out. because if your relationship is going downhill you damn well don’t deserve the treatment he’s giving you.”

“you don’t reckon i’m unreasonable right? you know, for feeling this way?” he dismissed your question with a laugh “fuck no! he fucked up and you’re not the one at fault here. trust me.” you hummed in response and just leaned you head back

though clouded up with emotions, it was a comfortable car ride. when he pulled up in front of your house you gave him a hug “i cannot even imagine how a jerk like you became friends with me. thanks rafe.”

“well you’re the who keeps me in line so” he answered in a matter of fact tone. “drive safe, kook.” you said as you got out of the car and ran inside your house.

you slammed the door shut and leaned your back on the door. you heard the engine rev the sound decreasing as the car got further. you mustered up all the strength you had left from being drained the whole day and pushed yourself to walk to your room.

“come on, y/n. pull yourself together.”

a loud banging on your front door woke you up from your slumber. you didn’t mind it a first as you were used to people joking around in the middle of the night.

you were about to fall asleep once again when you recognized who it was outside the thin walls that kept you from the outside “y/n i’m not playing. open the door!”

approaching the door was a challenge. trying to be as quiet as possible was difficult as you didn’t want to let the boy know that you’re near. but when you heard him stumble and hit hit himself by the door, you immediately opened it to see him pulling himself up.

“it’s two in the morning, jj! are you out of your mind?” you asked as you crossed your arms. your sleepiness faded away as you watched him mockingly laugh “i’m the one that’s out of my mind?! you’re the one who cannot make a decision!”

you furrowed your brows, trying to comprehend what he was saying but nothing was coming to light “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“cut the bullshit, y/n! i saw you with barry’s pet!” your breath hitched, your lips that was now drained in colour parted, but no words were formed.

“yeah...yeah. i saw you with rafe! you sneaking around with him huh?!” his voice was getting louder by the minute. which caused you to pull him by his shirt and drag him inside the house as you slammed the door.

“rafe saw me and decided to ask how i’ve been. which i gladly answered and started a conversation because my boyfriend can’t even do such thing!” you answered, matching his level of rage.

“so you just contradicted what you said about cutting ties with him? i can’t believe you.” you sat at the arm of the couch, not trusting you legs anymore to support you

“here you are, with the audacity to change this issue and turn the blame on me. jj you forgot to pick me up from work. i don’t know if you did it on purpose or not but it doesn’t even matter now does it.” you muttered in statement. he groaned as if he didn’t know what to say anymore. the alcohol inside him adding fuel to the fire.

“it’s not like i pick you up everyday from work! you can handle yourself. what makes now any different?” that when you got confirmation. he did forget. so much for making it up to you.

“we were supposed to have dinner asshole! instead you got drunk as if you’re gonna die if you didn’t start early enough!”

“damn it, y/n! you couldn’t let me have this day to myself? the one day i get to enjoy myself!” your tears fell, the words you had at the tip of your tongue you know will surely break your heart any second.

“you have fun with kie?” you bit your bottom lips as you tried to stop your sobs the second time that night. he headed for the door, obviously avoiding the topic, like he always did when it came to kie.

the two pogues looked at the brunette girl, watching her expressions as they questioned her internally as neither of them knew what was going on between her and jj.

all they know was the two bonded over surfing, more and more the past few days compared to before. they didn’t mind, anyone can be closer if bonded by hobbies, but now they were wondering why kiara always gets roped in the conversation when it came to you and jj. even rafe noticed it, it’s impossible if both boys didn’t.

“tell me, kie. you and jj?” john b asked as he fought his thoughts telling him to keep quiet.

“i would never do that to y/n.”

“so why are you being mentioned? if you have nothing to do with this.” john be queried again. pope listening intently on the side. not saying anything as he didn’t want to blow a fuse.

“it hurts me too, okay?! it hurts to know i’m somehow one of the reasons they fight. but jj is the one who comes to me. sure, i ask him for favours but i tell him to come whenever he’s available. it’s him that pushes y/n to the side.”

“i believe you. but founding principle, no secrets amongst pogues.” he responded as a sentence ender, expecting to not get a reply back from the girl

“sure, but you know to yourself you’re the one who’s keeping secrets from us. sarah, really?”

he was about to answer when they heard shouting from inside the thin walls of your house. them listening to what was going on inside.

“i can’t do this anymore.” he said to himself, but it wasn’t quiet enough for you not to hear. “neither can i!” he stopped in his tracks, and turned around to look at your figure.

“get out and we’re done, j. i don’t care anymore” you pointed out the door for a brief moment and covered your lips from making any sound

it was a bolt out of the blue for jj, he knew that you two would have to go through a difficulty to fix whatever is going on in your guys’ relationship, but he didn’t think you would end it, he overlooked the possibility resulting to him creating harder obstacles to throw in front of both of you.

“y..you’re joking right?” he asked, in disbelief of reality, along with how you mixed a breakup statement with the nickname you only were allowed to call him.

“i’m not. i’m tired. and it seems like you’re just gonna go on with your life without me so it would not be hard for you. get out.”

he looked you in your eyes, trying to catch your gaze but you looked down. because you knew that you would shatter further than the broken glass you already are.

he held the doorknob and opened the door, going out without another word. you stared at the closed door, the quietness of the living room was usually relaxing after a long day of being out and about with your friends but now it was like the silence of the dark room was wallowing with you. and as you laid on the couch you whispered,

“goodbye, j”

as jj walked down the front porch steps, he shook his head at the pogues who was sitting in the opened door van. by the look on the boys face and his gesture they knew what happened. but nobody had the courage to speak up except for john b

“i told you to wait til the morning. you never listen.” he scolded as he got in the driver’s seat. “well it would be the same result no matter what. it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“try again tomorrow or the next day. you both would be cooled off by then.” pope butted in and jj shook his head “can’t you understand?! i just lost her, man!” jj shouted back before continuing

“i just lost her.”

wth was that! next chapter’s the last one so stay tuned for that.

anyways, i hope you guys liked this one! also, i appreciate the love you guys gave on the last update and even the previous ones. i couldn’t tag some of you guys for some reason. there are also others who probably changed their usernames so if you see this and want it updated or want to be added to the taglist just let me know ♡

@spilledtee @sunsetholland @bibliophilewednesday @drewswannabegirl @omgitzbillie @sexualparkour @spencereidbasis @ifilwtmfc @maybebanks @obx-snippets @glux64 @rae131415 @pink-meringues @jeyramarie @lust-for-pan @k-roleplay20 @prejudic3 @rafeyybabyy @mj-20182 @makrenee @hoodpankow @softtfordrew @diverrdown @obxhstyles @suicidexdarkness @edyn-nicole

𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 ➳

#outerbanks #jj maybank #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank series #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #obx series #obx #kiara carrera #rafe cameron #jj maybank fic #pope heyward #john b routledge #obx imagine

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