#her life + learning almost entirely revolves around the fact that she is being raised to be a wife and people resent her for wanting more : | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

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espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

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triptuckers · 3 years

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Two Homes (part 6/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: no Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader Summary: you’re finally back in ketterdam Warnings: language Word count: 3.8K A/N: I literally love the crows so much they’re my comfort idiots <3 PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (two homes and/or all grishaverse fics): @godsofwriting @im-constantly-fangirling @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy (if your name is in bold it means I couldn't tag you) add yourself to my tag lists here

The cold wind on your face feels welcoming. You can smell the salt and there’s water all around you. You’d made the journey across the True Sea before, but it felt like a lifetime go.

Maybe because it was a lifetime ago.

You look down at the golden ring on your finger. It feels heavier than it used to. As if you’re suddenly aware of its presence.

When you first sailed across the sea, you were Y/F/N Y/L/N. A merchant’s daughter who had joined a gang in secret. You had learned how to fight, to steal, and a number of other illegal but useful things. You had earned your place among the Crows, joining them on jobs and secretly stealing small bits of your father’s fortune job by job.

And now you’re on a ship again, as Y/F/N Lantsov. A queen, of all things. Of a country you barely know. Married to a king you met less than a year ago.

Of course, you hadn’t given the captain of the ship you’re on your real name. You’d used a name Kaz had given you once as an alias for a job. Luckily, the captain didn’t ask much questions.

You look out at the sea again. Would the Crows treat you differently now? You wanted to believe you hadn’t changed. But everything had changed. Your entire life. Still, you loved the Crows like they’re your family, and they loved you back. But you couldn’t help but wonder if they would love Y/F/N Lantsov as they loved Y/F/N Y/L/N.

You’re lost in thought, unaware of the people walking around the ship behind you. It isn’t until you hear a loud voice, you look up.

Someone is standing at the front of the ship, pointing ahead. He shouted something in a language you didn’t know. When everyone moved to see what he was pointing at, you followed them as well.

After making your way to the front, you see what he was pointing at. In the distance, barely visible on the horizon, you can see land. A city. Your beloved Ketterdam.

You’re home.

You feel like it takes forever to dock and be able to get off the ship. After pulling your hood over your face to hide your identity, you finally set foot in the city again.

Nothing’s changed. You see people moving swiftly between the people who just got off the ship. As a member of the Dregs, you know they’re pickpocketing. How many hours had you spent on the docks yourself, under Kaz’ watchful eye as he taught you.

And now, you realise you’re among their targets. You grin as you start to manoeuvre through the crowd. You know the weak and strong points, and where it was most likely to find a gang member.

Because this part of the docks belonged to the Dregs, you make sure to give them all the signs you have money on you. You keep patting your pocket. To them, it would look like you were merely checking if your money was still there. But you know for a fact your money isn’t in that pocket, and you’re simply luring them to you.

You know how to pick pockets, so you know how it feels. You walk through the crowd, fixated on your coat pocket. When you feel something brush against it, you grab the wrist of the person who walked past you, pulling them back.

The person lets out an annoyed sound and tries to pull their wrist out of your hand, but you hold a firm grip.

‘You’re still bad a this.’ you say. ‘You should let Jesper do it instead.’

You smile and let go of the wrist. When you look up, you meet Nina’s widened eyes. Your hood is still covering most part of your face, but you know she recognised your voice in an instant.

She opens her mouth to say your name, but you stop her.

‘Not here.’ you say, grabbing her hand and leading her away from the crowd. You’re impressed by her patience. But once you’re away from the crowd and in a deserted alley, she fires questions at you.

‘Y/N, it’s so good to see you!’ says Nina. ‘How are you? How is Ravka? Why did you come back to Ketterdam? Oh, tell me you pissed Zoya off in some way, I would have loved to see the look on her face.’

You chuckle at her rapid questions and hold up your hands. ‘Slow down, Nina, remember to breathe in between questions.’ you say, smiling at her.

‘I’m just so glad to see you.’ says Nina.

She reaches out to you and pulls you in a tight hug. You hug her back and inhale the scent of her signature perfume. When Nina pulls back she looks at your face and smiles.

‘Bags under your eyes, but still as gorgeous as ever.’ says Nina, winking at you.

‘Not as gorgeous as you, though.’ you say and Nina laughs.

‘You worked on your flirty comebacks!’ she says.

You smile briefly. ‘That’s what you get when you spend so much time with Nikolai.’ you say.

‘Of course!’ says Nina. ‘How is he? Why isn’t he here?’

‘I chose to come alone.’ you say. ‘I got homesick.’

‘Well, I’m glad you’re here, we have a lot to catch up on. Matthias finally took the next step.’ says Nina, smirking.

Your eyes widen. ‘He did what?’ you say. Before you left, you were Nina’s favorite person to talk to about Matthias. Whenever he said or did something, you were the first one to know. Nina told you she was hinting for Matthias to kiss her, but he remained oblivious as ever. Looks like he finally managed to figure out all of her hints.

‘Later!’ says Nina. ‘Let’s get you to the Crow Club first, I don’t want them thinking I’m keeping you all to yourself.’

Nina links her arm through yours and together, you start walking toward the club. You look at the familiar streets and shops, constantly smiling. You were finally back in Ketterdam. You’d missed it so much, it felt good to be back.

While it’s in the middle of the day, the Crow Club is busy. It always is. As you walk to your usual table with Nina, you spot three familiar faces. Inej is the first to see you.

When she does, she leaps to her feet and runs over to hug you. Her hair tickles your cheek as she hugs you. Like Nina, she immediately starts interrogating you about your time in Ravka.

After promising her you’d tell her everything, you walk the last bit to the table, where Wylan and Matthias are sitting.

Wylan smiles brightly at you and stands up to hug you as well. He’s happy to see you as well but unlike Nina and Inej, he doesn’t ask all about Ravka. Instead, he asks you how you’re doing and how your journey was.

You smile at him and tell him you’re fine, that the journey went well. Sometimes you still wondered why the always energetic Jesper had been able to find his match in Wylan, someone who you’d always considered so calm and quiet.

Matthias holds out his hand for you to shake, before Nina pulls him to his feet and basically pushes him into your arms. You laugh at his bewildered face as you hug Matthias as well.

Meanwhile, Inej had ordered a round of everyone’s favorite drink, and you all sit down. As expected, they all start to ask you all sorts of questions. About Ravka, the palace, the wedding, what it’s like being queen, and of course, Nikolai.

You tell them you refuse to answer their questions until Jesper and Kaz are here, so you can tell them all at once. Wylan had told you they were away on a job. To kill the time, you asked them what had happened in Ketterdam while you were away.

Apparently, a lot.

‘I got shot.’ says Inej.

‘Twice.’ says Wylan, taking a sip of his drink and turning back to you. ‘And Jesper almost dropped me off a building.’

‘Come again?’ you say.

‘We were on a roof during a job, Jesper wasn’t paying attention and nearly knocked me off of it.’ says Wylan, not a single hint of fear in his voice. He had changed so much since you first met him. Maybe that’s what Ketterdam does to you, it hardens you, forces you to grow up.

‘I got in a fight with the Stadwatch.’ says Matthias.

‘And I had to bail you out of a holding cell.’ says Nina.

‘Only because someone knocked me out from behind. It wasn’t a fair fight.’ says Matthias.

Nina turns to you. ‘Heleen wanted for Inej and me to come back to the Menagerie.’ she says.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ you say. ‘You’re telling me she had the fucking guts to ask you that?’

‘Well, it was more like sending one of her new guys to deliver the message. Kaz sent him back with five fingers instead of ten, and without a tongue. I think she got her answer.’ says Nina.

‘Sounds like something Kaz would do.’ you say. ‘What else did I miss?’

‘Jesper almost let Wylan shoot with his guns.’ says Inej.

You raise your eyebrows at Wylan. ‘Jesper allowed you to touch his precious revolvers?’ you say.

‘Almost.’ says Wylan, correcting you. ‘He changed his mind right before handing me one.’

You’re enjoying their company. You laugh and catch up on what’s happening in Ketterdam, buying rounds for the table. Every now and then they ask you something about Ravka, but you still refuse to tell them anything until all of the Crows are present.

Several drinks and card games later, the club slowly begins to empty. Just as Wylan beats you in a game of card, his eye catches someone behind you and he waves at them.

Before you can turn around, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders, and a chin on top of your head.

‘There’s only one person who always sits in this spot.’

You smile and turn around. Towering over you, and with a huge grin on his face, Jesper is standing behind you. Your expression mirrors his as you stand up. Jesper wraps you in a bone-crushing hug. You close your eyes, grateful for his embrace.

When you let go of him, you smile up at him, then your eyes catch the person who had been standing behind Jesper.

‘Hi Kaz.’ you say.

Kaz nods at you and you’re convinced you can spot the smallest smile on his lips. Barely visible, but still there.

Wylan pulls two more chairs from the empty table next to yours, and Jesper and Kaz sit down.

‘So.’ says Jesper as Wylan hands him his drink. ‘What did we miss? How much have you all heard about a certain king?’

‘Nothing.’ says Nina. ‘Y/N didn’t tell us anything. She wanted to wait until you two got here a well.’

Jesper turns to you and winks. ‘Here I am. I’m all ears, darling.’ he says.

You take a breath and finish your drink. ‘Alright.’ you say. ‘What do you want to know?’

Everything, it seemed. They asked you about life at the palace, about your daily routines, if there really was a buffet every day, and if it was as big as the stories described. And they wanted to know all about Nikolai. What he’s like, if he’s a good king, what it was like to be married to him.

You told them life at the palace couldn’t be more different from the life in Ketterdam. You told them about the gardens, the meetings which were boring almost all of the time, the triumvirate. You told them Nikolai is very sweet, handsome, and a great king.

The rest of the night is spent talking, laughing, playing games and ordering more drinks. You’re exhausted but grateful to be back as you lay down in your old bed. Just before you fall asleep, you realise just how happy you are to be back.

It’s easy to fall back into your old routines when you walk down the stairs to the kitchen. Wylan and Inej are already there, along with a plate of steaming hot pancakes.

You’re grateful to be back, and eager to accompany them on jobs again. Still hiding your face and true identity. Last time you were in Ketterdam, you worried about your father finding out you were a member of the Dregs. Now you had to hide the fact the queen of Ravka is running along with gang members. Needless to say, you were slightly more nervous about someone recognising you.

But when you joined Jesper, Wylan and Nina on a job later that day, their presence was enough to soothe your nervousness.

Everything felt right. Though you had been away for almost a year, it was like you never left. The way you knew what to do without them having to tell you was comfortable. Everything was all right. You couldn’t believe you were finally back in Ketterdam.

You had missed life in Ketterdam and your crows very much. And you were thankful to see they didn’t treat you any differently. On your first night back, your life in Ravka had been the number one topic, but now you felt like Y/F/N Y/L/N again.

You joined them on jobs, played card games, chatted with Nina and Inej over drinks. It felt good to be home.

But a little over a week after you arrived in Ketterdam, you start to feel down. You didn’t know why. You’re finally back home, just like you wanted. You should be happy, grateful, not miserable.

You’re sitting at a table by yourself, silently drinking your favorite drink, when suddenly Kaz joins you.

It was unusual for Kaz to join anyone for drinks. Mostly he was upstairs in his office, doing whatever the hell he did up there. Looking for new jobs maybe, or making sure the younger Dregs didn’t do anything stupid.

When he would join you and the others for drinks, it was mostly because you all had begged him to come along. Kaz wasn’t one to join someone for a drink out of nowhere.

Nevertheless, you were happy he decided to join you.

‘How are you liking Ketterdam?’ he asks.

‘It’s good to be home.’ you say, smiling at him.

You watch as Kaz studies your face. You know there’s something on his mind, and you’re waiting for him to speak up as you nurse your drink.

‘Something has made you upset.’ says Kaz.

It wasn’t a question, more like a statement. You look at him in silence for a while. You tried lying to Kaz once, and he could tell immediately. You figured it was some sort of hidden talent of his. No one could lie to him and get away with it.

You look at your hands, to avoid his eyes.

‘Why didn’t you come to my wedding?’ you say.

‘We didn’t want to risk it.’ says Kaz. ‘Traveling abroad would have ended in our capture. Besides, I thought you didn’t want to marry king Nikolai.’

‘I didn’t.’ you say. ‘Not at first. But once I got to know him, well, it all changed. He’s actually a really great guy.’

You finally look up at Kaz. You finish your drink and signal to the bartender for another one. Again, Kaz is studying your face. You wish he’d look away, you always felt like he could see right through you.

‘There’s something else.’ he says.

You frown. ‘No.’ you say, truthfully. There was nothing else to mention.

‘Come on, spit it out.’ he says.

‘There’s nothing to spit out?’ you say, confused.

‘You’re not yourself. Not like I remember, at least. You said you’d be happier once you got back to Ketterdam. Well, you’re here now. You were happy last week, when you arrived. I have yet to see you genuinely smile, aside from the night you got back.’ says Kaz.

Why did he always have to be right? It was starting to get annoying. Kaz would tell you the truth, even if you didn’t want to hear it.

‘I thought I’d be happy to be home.’ you admit softly, avoiding his eyes again. ‘I’m not. And I don’t know why. I’m finally home, like I wanted, but it doesn’t feel like it.’

‘Y/N, look at me.’ says Kaz.

You keep looking at the table. The bartender sets down your new drink in front of you and you briefly look up at them to thank them. Still, you don’t look at Kaz. As you reach to grab your drink, Kaz’ cane lands on the table hard. Shocked and a bit offended, you look up at him.

‘Listen to me.’ says Kaz. ‘You can have two homes, Y/N. You came back to Ketterdam because you miss us. But you haven’t taken your ring off. Despite leaving the palace, yous till use Lantsov as your last name, aside from when you had to travel across the True Sea. Go back to the palace. Tell that king of yours that you love him. And come visit us during the summer.’

You look at Kaz, letting his words sink in. Two homes. Os Alta and Ketterdam. It could work. You’d spend your days with Nikolai, and spend the summer in Ketterdam.

Suddenly, you think back to your goodbye with Nikolai before you had left for Ketterdam. It wasn’t a proper goodbye, because you couldn’t wait to go to Ketterdam. He deserved more.

Maybe Kaz is right. Maybe you could have two homes.

Kaz had been looking at you as you went over it all in your head.

‘Two homes.’ you mutter softly.

You quickly finish your drink and get up. ‘I have to go.’ you say.

Despite it being late at night, you head up the stairs of the Slat and to knock on everyone’s door. You knew they’d be alarmed if you wake them, because there was an unwritten rule that you didn’t wake someone up in the middle of the night, unless something very bad was going on.

When you knock on Jesper’s door, Wylan is the one who opens it. There’s still light in the room and there’s a pencil in his hand. He must have been working on some sketches for a new project. When you glance over his shoulder you see Jesper sprawled out on the bad, fast asleep.

‘Is everything alright?’ says Wylan.

‘Yes, it’s fine, I just came to say goodbye.’ you say.

Wylan frowns, then smiles. ‘You’re going back to Ravka.’ he says.

You nod. ‘I need to see Nikolai.’ you say. ‘Can I say goodbye to Jesper real quick?’

Wylan steps aside so you can enter the room. You walk over to the bed, kneel beside it and shake Jesper’s shoulders. He wakes with a string of words you can’t quite understand.

‘Jes.’ you say softly. ‘It’s me, Y/N, I'm here to say goodbye. I’m going back to Ravka.’

He mumbles a “good for you, have fun” before falling back asleep.

You smile at move to rise to your feet again. You hug Wylan and after another goodbye, you leave their room, walking the stairs to the next floor.

Inej walks out of her room, holding a bunch of dirty dishes in her hands. She must have been on her way downstairs to put them away.

‘Hey.’ she says. ‘What are you still doing up?’

‘Saying goodbye.’ you say. ‘I’m going back to the palace.’

Like Wylan, Inej smiles. ‘Tell the king I said hi.’ she says.

‘I will.’ you say. ‘Goodbye Inej, I’ll be back for a visit soon.’

You walk to the next floor and knock on Nina’s door. It takes her a while to open the door, but you knew she would. When she does open the door, her hair is messy, she was clearly fast asleep just like Jesper.

‘What happened?’ says Nina, voice thick of sleepiness. ‘Who’s in trouble?’

‘No one’s in trouble.’ you say. ‘I’m here to say goodbye. I’m going back to Nikolai.’

‘You’re leaving again?’ says Nina. ‘But you just got here.’

‘I’ll be back for a visit in summer.’ you say. ‘In fact, I’m going to visit every summer. But right now I need to go back.’

‘To Nikolai.’ says Nina.

‘Yes.’ you say.

‘Give him a kiss from me.’ she says.

‘Nina!’ you say, making her laugh.

‘I’m kidding!’ she says. ‘How about give him a hug from me?’

You nod and Nina pulls you in her arms. You close your eyes, trying to capture the moment. You were going to miss them. But you’d be back in summer. When Nina lets go of you, she smiles brightly.

‘Wait here, you can say goodbye to Matthias too.’ she says.

She enters the room and seconds later she reappears, with Matthias behind her. Just like Nina, he looks like he just woke up. He’s squinting his eyes as he looks down at you.

‘You’re leaving?’ he says.

‘For a while.’ you say. ‘I’ll be back in summer.’

‘Alright.’ says Matthias.

Unlike the night when you arrived in Ketterdam, Nina doesn’t have to shove him into your arms. Matthias steps forward and pulls you in for a hug.

‘Take care.’ he says as he pulls away.

Nina moves past Matthias and pulls you in for another hug.

‘That first one was for Nikolai, this one’s for you.’ she whispers.

You blink furiously to stop the tears from falling. Saints, you really were going to miss them. But there was no need for tears, you’d see them again in summer. You smile at her as she pulls away.

‘I’m going to miss you.’ you say. ‘All of you.’

‘You’ll see us again.’ says Nina. ‘Now go! You’ve kept him waiting for long enough.’

You walk down the stairs, and grab your coat when you get to the bottom of the stairs. You poke your head around the door and see Kaz is still sitting in the same spot.

‘Bye, Kaz!’ you say and you wave at him.

He nods at you and briefly smiles. And then you’re out the door.

You don’t even know if there would be a ship at the docks that would sail to Ravka. But you’re still determined to head to Ravka as fast as you could. You walk down the streets toward the docks.

You were going back to Ravka, to your king.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #grishaverse #Nikolai Lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfics #Nikolai Lantsov fic #Nikolai Lantsov fics #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fics #two homes series

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

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Professionally Unprofessional (Sam Wilson x Reader)

Request: Samuel wilson x reader, reader is an interviewer who is on the ground when wilson speak with the senator, they had a huge fight before but wilson is like grab her and kissed her and then like "fuck this shit, cmon lets get married gurl" (by anonymous), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You were everything but average. As a reporter, people expected you to be laid back, professional. You were all those things, you simply added a bit of spice into the mix to lend your interviews something special.

Words: 2,696

Warnings: language, humor, sarcasm, fluff (?), arguments, female pronouns used, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[Thanks @shmaptainhotchner for helping me out with this one! <3]

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were part of a local news station, usually the one doing interviews & all of that sorts. The viewers liked you so much because you did not ask typical, boring questions. Whenever you had someone in front of your microphone, you went out of you way to create something special that entertained the people. Much to your boss’ dismay. But then again, she would never fire you because your views would drastically sink if she did so.

Thanks to your job, you had interviewed most of the Avengers throughout the years. That was how you met Sam in the first place. You somehow made yourself appear mysterious enough for him wanting to get to know you better. Mainly because of your odd approach at asking questions. It made you stand out. It did not take all too long for you guys to start dating. Your personalities harmonized perfectly together & whenever you two were out, shit was about to go down.

“You working today?” Sam asked as he stripped on his new suit that Bucky gifted to him.

“If someone’s worth interviewing.” you shrugged mindlessly. “You know, someone with a metal arm for example.”

“Yeah?” he approached you. “What about Captain America?”

“Meh.” you answered absently, not even looking in his eyes. Simply to mess with him. “That guy’s too boring. Literally nobody wants to see him.”

“Is that so?” Sam came to a halt right in front of you. Just as he stretched out his arms in your direction did you spin around & distance yourself from him. “Hey!”

“What?” you turned to glance at him again, an innocent expression on your face. “Something the matter?”

“Baby.” he spoke in a warning tone & you had to hide your giggle. “What are you planning?”

“Damn, you’re really thinking the worst of me, huh?” one corner of your lips lifted slightly.

“I know you, (Y/N).” Sam shook his head. “You’re trouble when it comes to interviews.”

“Well, the trouble ensures for my income. Not everyone is an Avenger, alright?” you crossed your arms over your chest & pretended to be angry at him.

“Maybe you should ask your boss for a raise.” Sam pointed out.

“She’d fire me before she’d give me more money.” you laughed at the absurdity of it. Because honestly, you really believed every day could be the last at your current job.

“What if I end up ignoring you amongst all other reporters?” he was kidding, of course he was. Usually, it was the other way around. You were the only interviewer he ever paid attention to & therefore he knew about your quick changes in questions. No matter how much you had prepared, in the end you were always straying far from that.

“Then it would mean no money at all. Sam, come on. It’ll be fun.” you sent him a big enthusiastic smile.

“Come on, baby. Not this shit…” he sighed loudly. So you were planning on messing with him later today but you were not enlightening him. There was no way he could possibly prepare for the chaos you would put him thorough.

“Oh, so my creative, well thought-through profession is shit but you risking your life flying around like a fucking bird while throwing a metal frisbee isn’t?” you looked at him expectantly but no answer came. Sam simply approached you, leaned down & pressed a quick peck on your cheek. It brought a sweet smile to your face. While the playful banter & arguments between you two were pretty much a constant, you always made sure to say goodbye properly. Though, if you were honest, you already had some questions in mind that would bother the shit out of him. Oh, this would so turn out in your favor.

Being Captain America’s girlfriend was not necessarily easy. Especially when his life was at risk almost daily. And Sam did give you a scare or two (or maybe even a thousand) ever since the Flag Smashers had been doing their things. Of course you loved joking around & pretending that none of this truly faced you but if you were to be entirely honest, you probably were the one who worried the most. More than Sam & Bucky combined. You were not as successful as you hoped to be when it came to hiding your feelings. Luckily, your boyfriend read you like an open book & he never teased you about it. Not about something as significant as this. So, without actually addressing the topic, he cheered you up & eased your mind without you even realizing it in the first place.

You had been awaiting the phone call for a while now so when it finally sounded up, you felt relief washing through you. Not Sam was calling but your boss.

“(Y/L/N). Heading to the main event soon?” she asked without greeting you first. Simply getting straight to business. As you were used to from her.

“Yeah, sure. Just waited for your call. The team is already on its way I guess?” you inquired & already walked over to your closet to pick an appropriate outfit.

“They are…Can I trust you?” she hesitated & you rolled your eyes at her stupidity. You two were not the best of friends if that had not been clear yet.

“You can always trust me, boss. Otherwise you wouldn’t have called me.” you concluded & smirked when you heard her sigh on the other end.

“I wanted to sign Brock up for this one, actually.” she took a deep breath before she continued. “But we all know what the viewers wanna see & it ain’t your colleague.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior today.” you straightened your back though nobody could see.

“That’s what I’m afraid of…This is a big deal, (Y/L/N). We really need a good interview.” she informed you. Your boss was aware that every task you handled ended up being successful so you did not quite understand her worries.

“I’ll be there in 15.” was all you said before you ended the call & tossed your phone on your bed from across the room. It was frustrating to have your boss calling you with the same plea every time. By now she should perceive your take on interviews & the views spoke for themselves. You believed her biggest concern was you messing up big time. That big, in fact, that your news station would go bankrupt afterwards. But each time you finished talking to someone in front of the camera, your popularity only increased. Maybe you were not an average reporter but who cared for average in the 21st century? It was no secret that you were a master of your profession, collecting tons of people who envied you over the years & delivering accordingly when needed. Without you on their team, your station would have gone bankrupt. You were the only one keeping it alive & every member knew that.

You smoothed out the material of your pantsuit, checking if everything was ready for the live interview that would happen soon. The cameras were already working & your sound man fiddled with the microphone attached to your fabric one last time before he left you alone to do your job. When you first started here, your heartrate picked up its pace whenever you were about to interview someone. Nowadays, you simply relaxed, took a few deep breaths & went for it without too much overthinking. The fact that your boyfriend was on the other end of your microphone aided your calm demeanor as well.

Tons of people surrounded you & you scrunched up your nose at their attempts to stand in the front row. Your team had arrived pretty early so your cameras focused on the main area where the real deal would happen. Honestly, if it were not for you actively working as a reporter, you would have loathed that profession. Then again, you differed from the others. That kind of excused the ugly side of that job. Voices grew more frantic which meant that something was brewing. Your eyes flickered up & there he was. Your boyfriend. Captain America in all his glory. In his new suit that simply took your breath away. When you first caught a glimpse of it & even now.

Stupid & boring questions were fired at Sam’s way but he sidestepped them like a pro. The microphone in your hand was moved around from one side to the other. One thing you had learned in this job was to have patience. And to stand out because then, people tended to approach you more often than the rest. So you ordered your camera man to film Sam’s encounter with the Senator before you would interrupt. Your smirk was wide when you watched Captain America clapping back at the higher-ups who believed the entire world revolved around them. Seemed like he finished his speech because his back faced them & he made his way over to the swarm of reporters. But his eyes only trained on one. You.

“Captain America.” you nodded as you stretched out the microphone in his direction. He rolled his eyes at you trying to stay professional. The first words & you were already failing. “Mr. Wilson. Let’s keep it simple, shall we?” you corrected yourself.

“Sure thing.” he nodded, not once breaking eye contact with you.

“All of America is wondering about one thing.” you made a pause for dramatic effect. “Have you lost it?”

“What?” Sam was confused yet at the same time, he was used to the perplexity that came with you interviewing him. It was the same old.

“Your sanity.” you stated without batting an eye, appearing as serious as ever. He tilted his head backwards & could not hold his laughter in any longer. Success for you.

“Everything is as it should be.” he brushed you off but you were better prepared than this, of course.

“Yeah? Then explain this…Imagine your worried girlfriend sitting at home, simply waiting to receive the news of her boyfriend getting his ass kicked.” it was no secret to the world that you two were dating but you were not allowed to include that in your interviews. But when did you ever follow rules?

“Well, she can’t be that worried. Since she’s standin’ here & all.” he pointed out & you had to admit that he did have some good comebacks today. People would love the bickering between you two.

“We were lucky enough to watch your encounter with the Senator.” you quickly changed the topic in order to keep the conversation alive & interesting. “Don’t you think it’s time for you to give credit?”

“Credit for what?” he inquired with furrowed eyebrows. You had him again.

“Generally, when someone gets inspired or when they had help, for example with coming up with a speech that leaves everyone stunned, it is only fair to give credit.” you saw how deep he was in his thoughts to process what you had said but it seemed useless.

“Baby, you’re literally making no sense.” Sam shook his head, one of his hands raising to his face to brush over his chin. He just called you by your nickname during a live interview, the media would go crazy over that. It was the very first time because, again, you were not allowed to mix work & private stuff. You needed to figure out a reasonable excuse to tell your boss later on.

“While that speech was remarkable, it is everything but fair to skip the fact that your girlfriend was the one helping you create it in the first place.” only after your explanation did he understand what you were trying to say. But you were literally selling your viewers bullshit.

“Improvisation doesn’t need credit.” one of his eyebrows perked up as he chuckled.

“I agree with you on that, Mr. Wilson.” you contemplated his words, acting as if you were giving in. But you were not. “And we’re totally even if you give me credit for your speech there.” you then turned around so you were looking straight into the camera. “It was me who wrote little cards for him to memorize every day during breakfast. You’ve gotta know that I have the brains in this relationship so-“ Sam interrupted you, came up right next to you & nudged you with his elbow. It earned him a little grunt & an unhappy look from you.

“Who the hell watches this?” his question was directed at your team behind the camera who only shrugged in return.

“A lot of viewers expect quality content, Mr. Wilson. So if you could please occupy your previous position so I can finish this interview in peace, that would be very much appreciated. “ the camera angle changed once more as you shoved Sam back to his place. He let it happen but in the back of his mind, a plan had already started forming. Just as your mouth started opening, Sam snatched the microphone from your hand, ripping off the one that was connected to your pantsuit in one swift movement. You were too shocked to reply right away. Seemed like your team was experiencing similar emotions because nobody moved or said anything. When you were free, he grabbed your wrist & dragged you away from the scene. Your mouth opened & closed a couple of times yet no words were coming out. Hundreds of interviews & never had something like that occurred before. There was a first time for everything.

“The fuck?” was the first thing you breathed out after Sam pretty much shoved you into an alleyway.

“Yeah, likewise.” he laughed, his eyes holding the softness that were reassurance enough that nothing was wrong & that he was not mad at you. His lips pressed onto yours in a fiery & passionate kiss. One that caught you completely off guard. That was a…different reaction to you teasing him during an interview. A pleasant one at that.

“Should I ask?” you almost whispered after you two had to pull apart for air.

“Damn, let’s get married, baby.” he said it so casually, as if there was nothing special about it. Your bewilderment gave you away. You had discussed marriage before just not that straight forward.

“What, you got a ring?” your head tilted to the side & the look on his face was priceless. He did not expect your answer to be as bold as his suggestion. “I’m kidding, Sam.”

“We could go buy one.” he shrugged & made you laugh. Honestly, that was such a typical move of him.

“You wanna marry me even though I literally messed with you back there?” you questioned. Sam held out his hand for you to take & you intertwined your fingers with his. A gentle smile played at the corners of your lips.

“I didn’t expect anything else from you.” he commented after a short pause.

“You gotta admit, though…I was on fire today.” you nudged him & widened your sparkling eyes at the genuine smile he gave you.

“If on fire is another word for annoying, then hell yeah.” he sighed loudly, the sarcasm clearly detectable.

“I didn’t remember you to be this rude, Mr. Wilson.” you emphasized the last part & loved watching his body tense up. His grip tightened & his steps fastened.

“Come on.” he urged you on but you wanted to keep this game alive for a little while longer.

“Where are we going?” you glanced at him with innocent eyes.

“Home. We can buy your ring another time.” so you two made your way back to your shared apartment. Throughout the entire walk there, you fought the urge to bite your lip at your clever approach for this interview. If that was what you got out of it, then you were fine with being fired as well. Because, truthfully, you did not believe your boss would keep up with you any longer after today. But she did not fire you, no. The views were skyrocketing & she needed you to keep their station alive. You got your well-deserved raise, finally.

Published (05/13/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @zestyemby, @met4no1a, @missroro, @bibliophilewednesday, @msmarvelsmain, @weareironmanbitches, @patricexirene (thanks for your support <3)

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orbitariums · 4 years

Text

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟐)

part one

hi everyone, thank you sososososooooo much for all the outreach, i really appreciate it!!! i may be making a second taglist, so look out for that if you didn’t get a chance to be added to the first one (tumblr has a tag limit but there r ways to work around it, that’s why i had a limit as well!!)

thank u for reading!! stay safe <3

taglist is closed!

playlist

word count: 7.3k

warnings: age gap, sex work, smut, dirty talk

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

Steve had never slept so well. He woke up that morning feeling like a brand new person. Rather than obsess over the meticulous, filthy details of the chat, which he knew would make him squirm now that he wasn't in the moment, he recalled the pleasure he felt and the relief he felt when he had finished. He thought about the connection he had made with you, how much he wanted to talk to you again, wanted to try another private session.

But of course he thought about the sexual aspect of it. How could he not? He had cyber sex with a stranger, a stranger who made him come twice in the span of half an hour. A stranger who he was incredibly attracted to, both physically and personality wise. He found it hard to grasp that you were so comfortable revealing yourself in such an intimate way to strangers online, especially the way you had last night.

And he admired it, even though it was so new to him. Because surprisingly, although he was the Captain America, quite literally the face of America, he could never be as bold as you -- sure, he had shared himself with you, but he was in his comfort zone and this was new to him.

You on the other hand, shared yourself with thousands of strangers every night. Morally, he wanted to question it - he grew up in a very conservative time period. But he couldn't, because he had taken part in it and he had so much respect for what you did... it took courage. He understood the whole female liberation thing and the fact that you were taking control of your own body. So, he loved this for you, and for everyone else who did this kind of work.

So the morning after that rare night, he found himself thinking only of you. In the shower, while he ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes, he got flashbacks to the way your robe opened as you slowly revealed your body. He felt himself get hard again, though this time he could find temporary release with just his hands, pumping himself to quick and easy release in the heat of his hot shower, throwing his head back and picturing your lips replacing his hands as he shut his eyes.

At briefings that morning, everyone noticed Steve's change in spirit. He was less antsy, less to himself. He even smiled a few times, even looked better, like he had actually slept. It was like a few months worth of stress and an urge for intimacy had been lifted off his shoulders.

"You look great Steve. Did you take my advice?" Tony asked after the briefing was over.

By the look on Tony's face, he already knew the answer to that question. Of course he hadn't heard Steve, the walls were soundproof (and for good reason, because if they weren't, he probably would've disturbed the whole tower), but he could sense it in how different he was acting.

"What advice?" Natasha looked over her shoulder, curious to know.

"Oh nothing, just guy stuff," Tony flipped his hand dismissively, and Natasha raised her brows,

"Do I even wanna know?"

Before Steve could answer, his cheeks getting red at the idea of getting found out, Tony replied with quickness,

"Last time I checked, I was just talking to Steve."

"Carry on with your very important, top secret conversation," Natasha joked, narrowing her eyes curiously at Steve and Tony before leaving the room.

"So. How was it?" Tony grinned, leaning in excitedly as he propped his legs up on the table.

Steve went silent for a few moments, a serious look on his face before he broke out into a relaxed grin,

"Honestly? It was amazing."

Tony slammed his hand down on the table in victory, a big grin taking over his features,

"Yes! That's what I'm talking about! I was hoping you'd enjoy it. I thought you might be a little prudish about it."

Steve ignored the offhand comment and just chose to focus on the positive, nodding slowly and folding his arms over his chest,

"I gotta thank you Stark. It definitely wasn't something I'd expect to be my thing, but I guess you learn something new about yourself everyday."

Steve surprised himself with that comment. Stark was actually right. Steve would've never in a million years thought he could be someone that would take part in anything revolving around cam girls, much less the action of masturbating with someone he hardly knew. He didn't even know it was a thing to begin with. He was both shocked, and a little anticipatory to see that he was actually learning new things about himself. He didn't expect that from him.

"My pleasure Steve, I take pride in my work," Tony replied, referring to his "therapy." A beat passed, and Tony exchanged an expectant look with Steve, who replied with a confused face, eyebrows furrowed together.

"What?" he asked, and Tony wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

"You know..."

"I don't," Steve responded, raising a questioning brow. Tony rolled his eyes and sighed in defeat,

"The girl, genius. How was she? Who was she? What'd you do? All the details, my friend."

Steve gulped. He had been thinking of you all morning, but he hadn't spoken about you yet, and he was kind of glad he had someone to share the details with. Out of respect for you, he didn't want to get too descriptive, but he would at least share his feelings about you.

"Well, she was real sweet. Calls herself Moonrose Haze, such a pretty name. She's gorgeous, really enjoys what she does, which I liked about her. I really like her, you know? I think we had a real connection. I've been thinking about her."

"Yeah well, don't get too attached. You know how that can go," Tony patted Steve's shoulder, and he nodded understandingly.

Of course he knew that he couldn't get too attached. It could be dangerous for both you and him. For starters, you didn't know who he was for real, and he didn't need you knowing. And because he didn't know you in real life, he didn't want to get hung up on you. He already didn't have time for an actual relationship, bringing the internet into it would be a whole different thing.

He didn't want to get too sucked into it, he didn't want to be brainwashed into feeling strongly for you before he really knew you. But he didn't feel that way at all right now - right now it was more of a feeling that he was glad to know you, glad to have made the connection he made with you. He liked you, and you were on his mind, but he wasn't obsessed, wasn't unable to think straight. He just felt nice and warm inside, that's all. It wasn't anything serious, not yet.

"Yeah, I know. It's nothing to be worried about. I'm just glad to have met her, you know? She's so charismatic and hard working, she works two jobs outside of this one. I really like her personality. And we—" Steve cut himself off, starting to blush, unable to hide it on his fair cheeks.

Tony leaned forward, knowing this would include the gritty details,

"What?"

"We..." Steve looked down as to avoid eye contact with Tony, who chased it even while Steve stared down at his shoes. "We - well - she... helped me." Steve cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed to bring up the memories that made his entire body feel as if it were on fire. He continued, "Helped me, you know... (he lowered his voice here) get off."

"Yowza!" Tony hooted, and Steve's face could never be more red. "Steve, you truly surprise me everyday."

"It wasn't like anything I've ever experienced before," Steve said, a bit more composed now. "I mean, it was- it was... she was incredible. I know she's a performer, but it felt so real, so intimate. And I think she enjoyed it too."

"Wait, don't tell me she joined in on the fun," Tony raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised, and Steve's head jerked up as he realized he had sort of revealed more details than he'd meant to.

"Well, we-" he began stammering, but Tony just cut him off with an impressed smile.

"My god. I would never expect it from you! Honestly, I'm proud of ya, Cap. You seem to be feeling much better now."

"I do," Steve answered with finality, and Tony nodded.

"Glad to see I could be of assistance. You can always come to me for these type of things you know. I've got all kinds of tricks up my sleeve."

Sure he does, Steve thought, watching as Tony walked out of the room. Now he was thinking of you once more - specifically when he would see you again.

✺ ✺ ✺

You started out your day not so different from Steve. You had great sleep that night, thanks to the powerful orgasm that practically lulled you to sleep, and thanks to meeting Steve. You liked him, too, thought about him with a smile on your face. You were in your apartment, a cheap, shabby apartment which you refurbished to your heart's delight, decorating with new furniture and plants however you could.

It wasn't the most luxurious space, but at least it was yours. And it was what you could afford living on your own in California, where you were from, and paying partially for your schooling. You made good money as a cam girl, but most of that went towards school and your clothing business. You were a busy woman.

As you logged on to girlsonfilm.com that morning to check stats and messages, you were met with memories from the night before. It was hot, sure, but you really, really liked Steve. You had lovely connections with some of your customers, but something about Steve was different. He was new, and almost naive, and had a personality you found adorable. He was mature and appropriate, and you liked that about him.

As always, you were careful. Being a cam girl meant you had to be safe and smart. With Steve, you felt secure enough, but you were always careful with new customers. Once again, it wasn't anything serious... yet. Still, you felt a little lighter on your feet throughout that day.

You were usually in good spirits, outgoing, determined and smiling, but today you just seemed a bit - lighter. Less worried about certain things like finances or your multiple jobs. It was your best friend, Aaliyah, who noticed the change in your demeanor. She tapped you on the shoulder as you sat in your last class of the day, which was at noon.

"Yeah?" you asked, turning your head towards her - you had been sort of looking out into the distance beforehand, thinking all those happy thoughts that stemmed from last night with Steve.

"Earth to YN? What's up with you, you're all... dreamy," Aaliyah hissed urgently, wanting to know everything.

You laughed, looking down at your desk and bringing your arms together, shrugging your shoulders up and down,

"Dude, relax. I just had really good sleep, I'm in a good mood."

"Bitch. I know you're lying, you're my best friend of seven years and you think I can't tell when you're lying? Who has you looking so incredibly happy right now? I need to know so I can threaten them if they ever hurt you!"

"Okay, the fact that you're already assuming it's a person is amazing," you chuckled, turning to face her, pushing your hair from your eyes.

Aaliyah knew how you felt about relationships - you weren't exactly looking for one as you were so busy to begin with, and you'd had bad experiences in the past. You pretended like they didn't hinder you, but pretending only worked for so long. But Aaliyah was always the first to ask about your relationship life anyway - she wanted to see you with somebody who would treat you right, the way you deserved.

"Well? Is it?" Aaliyah prodded.

"No," you shook your head a bit too strongly for Aaliyah to be convinced, and couldn't help but break into laughter at the way she glared at you, eyes narrowed and arms folded across her chest. "Okay, okay. I may or not have done a private session last night."

"Mhm," Aaliyah lowered her voice - she was the only person who knew of your secret job, and she took your privacy very seriously.

"Anddd, I may or may not have met a new customer," you continued slowly, Aaliyah repeating her hums. "And, we may or may not have... had sex? I don't know, it was - virtual, completely online."

"But, you do this often," Aaliyah replied, not understanding the depth of the situation because you often engaged in sexual acts for or with your customers in private sessions.

"Yes, but this time it was different. I felt like... I dunno, like my whole body was on fire. I felt like I was totally in control, and you know, I'm in control other times, but this guy didn't really know what he wanted, so I took the lead. And it was fucking great, I kid you not, I was shaking afterwards. It all just felt so visceral and so fucking real and so, so hot. And... it felt intimate."

"Woah, woah, woah, this is sensory overload right now," Aaliyah raised her brows, impressed with the story and with the person you were talking about. "Intimate how?"

"Like, I just felt really safe and connected with him. I was nervous, I wanted to keep him. I wanted to talk to him again. He was so polite and mature and so... just nice. Oh my god, and he tipped me like, hundreds. He was extremely generous."

Aaliyah was nodding, even more impressed,

"That's what I like to hear! What's his name? What'd he look like?"

"His name's Steve. And, I dunno what he looked like, he had his camera off. Probably some white dude, but honestly he was very handsome sounding. So like, a handsome white dude."

You sensed a shift in Aaliyah's nature, and looked over to her.

"What?" you whined.

"This man couldn't even turn his camera on while you were popping pussy for him? Yet y'all had an intimate connection?" she raised her eyebrows, very straightforward.

You pouted,

"Intimacy doesn't always have to have rules. I get a lot of customers who don't show their face. I'm sure he has his reasons. Besides, it was nice not to have a dick shoved into the camera for once."

The both of you chortled at that, but then Aaliyah went back to business.

"No camera on? He's married with kids."

You made a face and frowned, a crease showing up at your forehead,

"Don't say that! I like him."

Aaliyah let up a little, because she knew you were being serious, and leaned back in her chair.

"You like him?" she asked, and you nodded, biting your lip,

"Yeah."

"You really like him?"

You rolled your eyes,

"Asshole, I don't really like him. I just, think he's cool. And I'm glad we met."

"Okay, good to hear, 'cuz you don't know him and we don't wanna go too fast, girl. You've got options in real life," Aaliyah concluded, and you nodded,

"It's nothing serious. I just like him, that's all. And last night was nice, that's why I feel so refreshed today. You don't have to worry about me. This isn't gonna become like the movie Her."

"Ha," Aaliyah snorted, catching the reference. A beat of silence passed between the two of you, before you broke it suddenly by jerking your head to her to share an urgent detail you didn't want her to miss.

"He fucking came twice!" you whispered loudly. "In the span of thirty minutes!"

Your eyes were wide and brazen, and your lips were pursed tight. Aaliyah blinked slowly, taking in the information.

"Oh wow."

"I know. And his moans, oh my god. And he said his dick size was three fingers long," you held up your hand and cusped the three fingers you had used - ring, middle, and index. "Literally huge!"

"For your sake I hope it's true, if he's got you this hung up," Aaliyah smirked, and you laughed breathlessly, realizing how intense you had just gotten.

"My fault. Don't mind me," you returned to your work now that class was getting started, but the two of you were consumed with giggle fits.

✺ ✺ ✺

Steve actually had put you down on his calendar - mentally, at least. He obviously couldn't drop everything just to spend time with you, but the late times of your shows and his current availability made him feel inclined to use his free time to share with you, at least that week. He almost tried to downplay how much he wanted to see you again, how anticipating he was, because it wasn't like him to feel excited, to smile to himself at the thought of anything.

By the time you went on live again, on a Wednesday night, both you and Steve were filled to the brim with excitement. You wanted to talk again, and Steve wanted to see how you performed on a regular live. So that night, he took a shower, got tucked into bed like he had the last time, and signed on to girlsonfilm.com, which he typed into the browser with jittering hands. He was actually... excited. Something about this was giving him a taste of a feeling that was once rare.

He typed in your name at the search bar, not even taking a second glance at the other livestreams on the screen (more because he was avoiding looking at so many naked bodies at once). You had already started by the time he came on, and you'd been awaiting his arrival.

This time, your setup was different. You were in your "office", a small room in your apartment that served as a workspace for your clothing line, a homework/study area, and a place where you could do your work outside of school. But tonight, like many other nights, it operated as your cam room.

It looked like a strip club, complete with glowing neon lights that shifted colors, an assortment of heels and alcohol bottles behind you, and a disco ball hanging above your head. There was even a sign on the wall behind you that read your name in fancy writing. You leaned forward on your laptop to see who had signed in, a smile reaching your saccharine, glossy lips as the name you were waiting for popped up on screen.

"Steve!" you cooed girlishly, pushing your hair behind your ear subconsciously - you wanted him to see your face. "How are you?"

Steve, who was figuring out the chatroom, commented below in response, eager to hear your voice. A grin had made its way onto his face at the sound of your excitement to see him.

Steve - GrantRoberts

Hi. I'm great, how are you?

You bit down on your lip, intoning,

"Well, better now you're here! Guys, this is Steve, he's new here. Say hi."

Steve skimmed past the comments from her devoted customers saying hello, and you continued with your show, seeming oodles happier now that Steve was on. You already gave it your all, now you would give your all and more.

Steve didn't even need you to do that much to sate him though - looking at your skimpy outfit was enough. You were dressed in a sheer, glittery white lace corset that highlighted all of your assets, with garters on your silky thighs to match.

Then you were wearing these insanely long stripper heels, and boy did Steve have a thing for heels- you wearing them made him nearly salivate. Your lips were painted a sultry red and the rest of your makeup was dewy and glittery, with gems and glitter dust stuck to the sides of your eyes.

You looked ethereal, and the lucid background just made things even better. He was already hard upon looking at you, especially when you shimmied up close to the camera and showed your entire body, your hands running up your thighs and sides in slow motion.

"You guys like my outfit?" you smirked, twirling slowly for the camera. "You know, I love being a dancer, but I get so lonely sometimes. All these guys coming through, but no one to really pleasure me. You know?"

Steve swallowed hard. You were talking to everyone on the live, but looking directly into the camera, an intense look in your eyes. Tonight you were playing out the recurring strip club fantasy, which lots of your customers enjoyed - Steve was new to the whole thing, but he got the gist and story line right away. How could he not with how intensely he was focusing?

You laughed a little, a sultry but brief laugh that made shivers run up Steve's spine. Right now, though you were glad Steve was there, you were in full work mode, pulling all the levers. You were focused, and Steve knew that you weren't only occupied with him. But he even liked that, liked your work ethic and your ferocity.

"I guess I was just wondering if one of you were man enough to take me," you continued, starting to really pile on the dirty talk and the persona.

You kept showing different angles of your body, letting your customers admire you. You turned around, strutting slowly, one leg in front of the other, your heels hitting the ground. Steve's eyes widened at the shape of your ass as you faced the other way, head tilting as he admired your features.

He wasn't the kind of guy to worry about a girl's body type much, and he certainly didn't only focus on your body, but how could he not in this case? You were drawing attention to your every asset, and he was realizing just how much he liked them on you.

Then you slowly twirled around, facing the camera again and lowering yourself down on your knees. You pouted softly, as if you were feeling conflicted.

"But, I haven't seen anyone here who's man enough to take care of me. I have needs too," you sighed, looking down at your nails, which, perfectly, were long and glittery acrylics. "Gosh, and the pay here is lousy. Some guys are so cheap, you wouldn't even believe it."

Kaching. Tokens being added left and right after you said that. You smirked, gazing into the camera for one minute, Steve catching your pixelated gaze, before you kept going. Steve added tokens as well, probably more than all that had been added in that moment. He was impressed by your strategies, and he knew that paying would make things progress.

"I'm just so lonely and bored sometimes," you slowly removed the straps of your corset, revealing your chest. You ran your hands along the lace that was still over your breasts, licking your bottom lip. "Hmm. But I think I'll need more help to remove my top.

More tokens. More talking, more tokens. And soon enough, you had taken off the corset (garters left on, as per special request from many of your customers), and you were naked in front of the camera. Steve felt himself throbbing beneath his boxers, and stroked his length over the fabric.

"Wow, you guys are great," you cooed. "And so much better than some of the other guys who come through here. But not good enough. Poor old me, looks like I'll have to pleasure myself, hmm?"

You wiggled your eyebrows up and down as comic relief while you opened and closed your legs very quickly, giving just a peek of what you knew they all wanted to see.

Ashton — asherw9 guyz, she clearly needs help spreading her legs. can we all do better? + 10 tokens

You giggled,

"Thank you Ashton. I really do need help spreading my legs for you, so I can get all nice and ready. So, tokens or bust."

Soon enough, you had them voting on toys to use as you went through an assortment. All of them were glass dildos with different designs. Each vote was a certain amount of tokens, and they eventually came to a consensus. Steve only voted so he could pay you, he had no idea what he actually wanted to see, nor any idea of how dildos differed from one another.

You smiled when you saw that he had voted, raising your brows at the option he had chosen,

"Steve, you naughty boy. You wanna see me use the biggest one?" Steve blushed— he didn't know any better. But you were smiling, and reading the other options. "It looks like a lot of you wanna see me use the big one. I'll give you like, another minute to decide."

A flood of votes came in and you read them over, smiling as you held up the biggest option.

"This one it is!"

And there you were, giving a tease show as you danced sensually on the floor, wrapping your body around as you removed the bottom half of the corset. Soon enough, your entire body was completely revealed and you were spreading your legs open, your fingers dancing along your clit as you prepared yourself. Soft but sultry music played in the background, but all Steve could hear was the sound of your progressing pants and moans, which were soft and quiet.

He had his hand wrapped around himself, finally out of his boxers, and he was stroking at the same pace that you were circling your clit with your fingers. He spread the precum peeking out from his tip down his erect length, pumping himself slowly as he watched you. He let out a strangled moan as you diligently slid two fingers inside of yourself, your face contorting as you felt them against your walls, reaching all the right spots.

"I'm so fucking wet," you whined, pumping your fingers in and out faster now. You were even more getting tokens and comments by the minute, Steve being the best contributor as he could with only one hand available.

He felt a hint of shame pang in his chest as he realized what he was doing — pleasuring himself online to someone who was doing the same thing for the hundreds of others watching. But in your case, it was for work. For a moment, he almost felt like a perverted loser, pumping himself to you in the dark — but he bounced back after remembering who he was, and after feeling himself throb inside his hands. He wanted to be able to enjoy himself, he shouldn't make himself feel guilty about it, so long as it was rightfully done.

You sighed loudly as you transitioned from using your fingers to the dildo.

"Guys, this thing is huge," you giggled slightly, but that giggle morphed into a pleasantly surprised moan as you began to slide it inside of you. Your slick arousal coated the toy instantly, making it much easier. Your face said it all, as did the whiny pitch in your voice. "Oh fuck."

Steve couldn't control himself. He came quickly once again, but continued stroking himself as you continued. And once again, his release felt cathartic, like he was filling in something that he had long been missing, and only you could bring him to this point. He couldn't do this himself before, not without you.

He wanted so badly to be in a private room with you, to share this moment with you and only you, where you could hear his voice and he knew the two of you were alone. But he knew this would have to do for now, his hands working his cock as he watched you thrust the dildo in and out, your moans growing louder and less contained.

You watched the dildo disappear in and out of you, slipping in with ease because of how wet you were. The sounds it made were criminal and arousing, sounds of your slick against your walls. Your mouth fell open in an o-shape as you watched how well you took it despite its size, admiring of yourself and even more turned on, pushing it deep inside of you.

"Fuck, it feels so good, I'm so fucking wet," you whined, biting down hard on your lip, closing your previously ajar mouth.

Steve watched how well you took it with eyes that were glazed over, wishing it was him instead of a glass toy, wishing he could stretch you out and be that deep inside of you. He groaned to himself, mumbling expletives as he felt his orgasm build up.

"Oh my god, I'm close," you groaned some time later. You threw your head back, bringing your hand to your clit to assist your orgasm. You had been going at it for the past fifteen minutes, putting off your orgasms until you couldn't any longer. Steve was mesmerized, fists practically clenched around himself as you brought yourself to climax. "I want you to cum with me," you moaned. "Oh fuck, yes."

Your moans nearly became shouts as you came, toes curling in your six inch heels. You tried to grip the carpet around you, but to no avail, and you found yourself coming recklessly while the dildo was still inside of you, taking it out just moments after your orgasm began.

You were dripping all down your legs and thighs, the spot on the carpet beneath you completely drenched in your arousal. Steve had came again, and again, his cock twitching and spurring at the sight of you. The longer you rode out your high, the longer Steve rode out his — and needless to say, he could keep up.

You took in deep breaths as you got caught up, leaving your legs spread for your viewers' pleasure. As per one request, you lead your fingers to your slick heat, spreading yourself open so everyone could see, a smirk on your face.

Once Steve had come down, he decided to type something in the chat.

Steve - GrantRogers

Thank you, this was wonderful.

You snorted at Steve's response — always so polite and proper. You closed your legs and crawled up closer to the camera so they could only see your face and your upper half.

"I hope you guys liked that. I don't think I've ever used that one before, but trust me, I will be using it again. Thanks for the suggestion," you winked. "You can join me next week for a giveaway! I'll be selling my panties, those purple butterfly ones you guys love so much?"

You watched as the comments flooded with praise and excitement, and chuckled,

"Yeah, those. So check in next week on how to enter, rules and more. I hope you guys enjoyed today, thank you so much for being the most beloved members of my little strip club here. See you later!"

Easily, you blew a kiss to the camera, and ended the show. At first, Steve was a little bummed. He was hoping for another private session, so he could talk to you a little more. But he understood that it wouldn't be today, and started to exit out of the site until he heard a ping! notification. He looked on the upper right corner of the screen to see that he had a new message.

moonrose — moonrosehaze hey! got a minute? click the link in the chat if you do!

Steve slowly clicked the link, hoping that it was what he was expecting and not some type of scam. And luckily, it was — it rerouted him to the same link as last time, giving him the option to hide his video and only use audio. He chose that option and you showed up on screen, in a silk pajama top and shorts, still in the same room as before, just not in the act anymore. Once he saw you, he grinned, and you smiled as well when he joined.

"Hey!" you exclaimed excitedly. "How are you?"

You typically didn't do this - usually customers reached out to you, not the other way around. But just because you weren't offering private sessions tonight didn't mean you couldn't still talk to a client. Especially a client who you happened to really like. And of course, the two of you were being careful, precautions still fresh in your mind. But you were enjoying your time together so far in this excited new beginning. There were no red flags and nothing to be worried about.

Steve laughed, his voice deep and almost cloudy - after coming down from two orgasms he felt dreamlike. His voice was warm and inviting, and you felt that awfully familiar buildup of an orgasm in your stomach, though it wasn't the same. Maybe more like butterflies, except instead of just being nervous, you were both nervous and turned on.

"Hi," he crooned, feeling his cheeks warm up at the sight of you. You were so enchanting and bright, even if you were behind a screen. You had a youthful glow that made you look and feel genuinely happy and vivacious. Even after just a few days, he found himself admiring you, and not just for your sexual prowess. "I'm great, how are you? You were amazing, by the way. That was... I've never seen anything like that before."

You giggled, appreciative of his constant praise, but it raised the question,

"I can't thank you enough. You've watched porn before though, right?"

At first, you thought Steve's innocence was only unique to cam sites, but now you were starting to question just how experienced he really was with this world. He seemed to know how to tip, and tipped very well. As for talking to you, he was charming and polite thus far, so he seemed to know how to interact with women who had jobs like yours - you hoped he was this kind universally, and not just to you. You hoped you knew him, the little bit that he was showing, not just a version of him that he was pretending to be.

Steve shifted a bit, smiling shyly to himself,

"Not really... do I sound that clueless?"

"No," you giggled, shaking your head, but he could tell you were just being coy, which made him smile.

"Be honest," he prodded you, and you laughed louder,

"Yeah, a little. But don't feel bad! That's a first. Usually guys your age are well versed in this sort of thing. It's... kind of sweet. And I like that you're new to this. It makes it easier to get you excited," you veered into flirting with him again, smiling gently into the camera.

"Oh yeah?" Steve questioned playfully, and you nodded.

"Oh, for sure. Listen, I'm really tired from my show so I can't promise anything like what I just did, but if you want me to pose for you or..."

You trailed off, but Steve was quick to jump in, shaking his head. He didn't expect anything from you at the moment, although he wouldn't mind, but if you were tired, then you knew your limits, and he didn't want to push them for his own sake. He knew it was your job, but he still had his own sense of morals.

"No, no, it's okay, hon'. You worked really hard just now, don't feel pressured to do something for me just because. It's nice to just talk to you anyway, you didn't even have to do this," Steve said calmly, and you felt your heart warming more and more with every word he spoke, especially when he called you "hon" — he gave you the energy of such a kind older man.

Of course Steve wanted to see something from you again - of course he'd cherish it, die for it. But he had been sated for the night, and talking to you was enough. Still in the back of his mind he questioned whether he should be talking to you like this at all - it was the second night you had spoken. But he pushed those doubts to the back of his mind for now - not now Steve, not now, he thought.

"Aww, thank you," you pouted out of happiness and appreciation.

He acknowledged how hard you worked, and the fact that it was hard work. And he didn't have to be so gracious about it, so appreciative and the way he was. You were almost glad he just wanted to talk, even though you would've been willing to at least pose for him or dirty talk him to climax once again. What you'd do to hear his moans and hear his gruff voice in particular.

You continued,

"I'm... I'm glad you liked the show. I'm glad you came, honestly. I know we've only talked once but I like you. I feel like we connected immediately."

Steve felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest that he brushed off as the typical butterflies that were spreading. He already addressed that this entire thing made him nervous in general, but he didn't think anything more of it.

"We did. Somehow, someway," he chuckled a bit awkwardly, and you smiled at his shy nature. "I'm— I'm really glad I came to. I was looking forward to this."

"So how was your day?"

"Honestly? I've been so much better since the last time. I mean, you really helped out. I feel like..." Steve took a deep sigh. "Like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders, y'know? What about you?"

"I know the feeling. I sort of felt the same way. Huh. Gosh, it's weird, it's not like we're-" you decided not to finish your own sentence, laughing as you brushed it off as silly. "Anyway. Today was great. Yeah."

"Yeah? You uh... take any classes today?" Steve asked, recalling how you told him about your life as a student and as an artist. He cringed internally at how awkward he was being. There was still that spark, but the two of you were both resisting conversation because you didn't want to face the reality of establishing a relationship with each other, even if it was just client to camgirl. It felt more personal. "I'm sorry," he chuckled to himself. "I'm not great with small talk."

"I mean, I'm sure - if I were a scientist, I'd want to be talking about, like, I don't know - nuclear physics. Environmental studies doesn't quite feel like your area of science," you giggled, and Steve remembered (though he hadn't forgotten) how he had passed himself off as a scientist. Maybe more of a scientific experiment, but it couldn't hurt to say he was a scientist, could it? He was surrounded by them after all.

Steve laughed, shaking his head,

"You'd be surprised how much I don't wanna talk about nuclear physics half the time. Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah," you propped yourself up, wanting to know what he wanted to know about you.

"You like this, right? Like, being, well-"

"A cam girl?" you furrowed your brows together and laughed, shaking your head playfully. "You can say it, don't worry, I don't bite. But uh, wow, I guess no one's really ever asked me that on here. I do, actually. I think a lot of girls on here like this job, but I really love it. It feels liberating, which is great. But it also pays my bills. So it's a balance between the two. I can kind of be whoever I want on here."

"So in real life, Moonrose is... not a thing," Steve concluded, and you shifted. "If you don't mind me asking." He just wanted to understand the dynamics of this job, how you worked the ins and outs - almost like an agent. You weren't that different from his colleagues.

Usually you'd be a bit more hesitant to answer such a question, but Steve made you feel comfortable.

"It's perfectly okay. I'm still the same girl, you know? So it's very much a thing, it feels like Moonrose is... a part of me. But it's just not the same way it feels on here, if that makes sense. It's an act, but it's really... just me."

"I like that. And I like that you enjoy your job."

"Now, can I ask you a question?"

A pause, then Steve answered. It couldn't be that bad.

"Sure," he nodded.

"Okay," you bit down on your lip. "What made you choose me?"

You hated that question - "what made you choose me?" It left a bitter taste in your mouth. So many times, in your relationships in real life, you felt like you had to ask that question to get reassurance. To feel supported. But with Steve, it was obviously different. And right now, asking that question didn't feel so bad. You didn't feel like because he chose you, you were special. You felt like you were special before he even chose you.

Steve grinned,

"Honestly, I had been scrolling for a while, but none of the other girls stood out for me. And I came across you and you were smiling and you seemed happy. You talked to your customers like they were your fans. You just made it look so charming and graceful. It felt genuine."

"Thanks, I try. Well, I'm glad we crossed paths. It's nice talking to you, even if it's not for a private cam. I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable, doing this-"

"No, no, not at all. I was hoping I'd get to talk to you too, so."

"Oh," you chuckled— you nearly snorted, pushing your hair back and laughing in tandem with Steve. Your awkward moments together were actually fitting and charming, and didn't feel "awkward" at all. You presented as confident, sexy and seductive Moonrose, but Steve brought out the dork in you, made you feel less like Moonrose and more like YN, in the best way ever. "Cool."

Steve liked this. He reveled in the quiet for a moment, just looking at you, your skin glowing, teeth showing when you smiled, everything about you was evocative. But he looked at the time, realizing he had briefings in the morning.

"Well, unfortunately, it looks like I gotta go. Got... labs in the morning, and stuff."

"Oh, yeah for sure, no, go ahead. Gotta get your sleep."

"You too," he encouraged you, almost like a protective figure. "Get some rest."

"Thanks." You took in a deep breath and took the leap you'd been wanting to take the whole call. You loved talking to Steve, but you had been thinking about what Aaliyah had said. You didn't feel as bothered by it as she had, but you figured it was worth a try. You could see if anything would change. And maybe it wasn't an "appropriate" statement, but you were taking a leap of faith. "Wish I could see you. You know, through your camera?"

At first, Steve's heart dropped. He definitely couldn't commit to that. But he knew it was fine, he didn't have to commit to anything at all. He just chuckled,

"Oh, not this time."

You nodded gently, understanding. It was like you told Aaliyah, plenty of customers didn't use their cameras. But you wished you could see Steve, see the face that matched that enchanting voice and those lovely words.

"I understand. Well, I'll see you... or, hear you, next time?"

"Yeah, doll. See you."

And with that, he ended the session, and closed his laptop. Much to think about. And all of it revolved around you.

ahh how are we feeling!! i made their dialogue a leeetle bit awkward bc i didn’t wanna make it super mushy. it’ll be slow burn but not agonizingly slow jus wait on itttt!!! let me know your reactions!!! tags will be linked in a reblog :)

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers series #girls on film #orbitariums #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america smut #smut #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel smut #chris evans #steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #reader insert #marvel series

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 3 years

Text

Being Human - Chapter 16

<= Chapter 15

Summary : Snatcher learns something that is definitely not a good thing. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/68121814

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Sorry for the late posting ! I have a bit of a writer block, and I tried toi delay my chapters as much as possible until I couldn't anymore (the 17th chapter isn't finished so it'll force me to write it eventually), sorry about that ! I hope you're still interested in this story despite my lack of recent activity.

I hope you'll like this chapter !

Of course, the “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 16 - “So, what are you doing here?”

Out of all the people who could have come out of this hallway, Moonjumper was perhaps the less surprising one to Snatcher. Obviously, the fear of seeing Her had engulfed him since the moment the alarm went off, but now, he felt a huge wave of relief hitting him. The man knew very well this was absolutely stupid for him to think She would be able to come onto the ship uninvited… But still.

His posture relaxed once he realized he wasn’t in danger. This was maybe the first time he was truly happy to see Moonjumper, but compared to Vanessa, this wasn’t really difficult. However… Why was he here? Did something happen with Her…?

The living corpse’s face lit up as his eyes fell on Snatcher and the bow-wearing kid next to him. He had his hands clasped together, his face shifting from worry to relief as he saw them:

-“Oh hello! There you are!” he greeted the two, floating a bit closer, while the bow-wearing child approached him too, her smile wide. Her annoyed expression had been quickly replaced by a happy one, an excited one even, as if she hadn’t seen the guy for weeks when, in fact, it had only been two days.

-“Moonjumper!” she greeted him back, stopping just in front of him, her posture clear of how glad she was to see him. The feeling seemed to be mutual as he gave her a warm smile, just as happy to see her. The other’s eyes soon drifted higher to meet Snatcher’s, and the corpse’s warm expression fell a bit. Well, this wasn’t quite surprising, considering how sour their relationship was. In all honesty, who wouldn’t be put off by seeing their dead, rotten body floating right before them, stolen by an unknown spirit? Not a lot of people.

-“Good morning,” said Snatcher simply, the gears in his mind turning more and more. Was this a simple visit of courtesy or… Was there more to it? The former ghost couldn’t help but think of the worst-case scenario. But could this be possible…? It had only been a few days!

Yet, Vanessa was unpredictable and much cleverer than what she let people think. She wasn’t just a Queen that had gone crazy with jealousy and control… No, no… She was far more intelligent and cruel that one would think. And Snatcher knew that from experience. Furthermore, the man couldn’t help but think of Moonjumper’s worried face as the latter had entered the room… He had a bad feeling, he hated that, but that feeling was definitely there, eating him little by little.

Something had happened.

His thoughts were soon cut short as Moonjumper started to talk again, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that had followed Snatcher’s greeting:

“I- uh, seem to have triggered some sort of alarm…?” wondered the ghost with confusion and nervousness: “Is… Is this normal?”

The former spirit couldn’t blame the other, that loud thing had surprised him too quite a lot. Just the same, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was something that happened on a regular basis or not. Given how annoyed the little girl had been instead of surprised or startled like he had been, he supposed the former was most likely.

-“Yeah, I was wondering about that too,” added Snatcher with a perplexed frown, tilting his head slightly.

The little girl winced as she glanced away, probably remembering quite a lot of situations revolving about said alarm. When she did start to explain, her features showed some hints of irritation.

-“Well… It’s something that Hat and I built in the spaceship in case of… Incidents.”

-“‘Incidents’?” repeated Snatcher, even more confused and, perhaps, a bit nervous now. What did she mean by that…? Apparently, Moonjumper’s face showed the same signs of worry he was expressing, if not more. Both of their stances were now tensed, waiting anxiously for the child to continue her explanation. At their insistence, she seemed a little uncomfortable, as if she didn’t know how to explain something to them in a way that wouldn’t worry them even more.

Well, this was not a success.

-“Hum… I mean, Space is a dangerous place, you know?” she tried to clarify: “And there are many, many life forms out there, not all being super nice so… It’s better to be prepared, right? Just in case. So Hat and I decided to install that alarm, but…” She paused, looking elsewhere as she kept going, more annoyed: “So far, it has only been a bother, and we never had any problems. But… You never know, right?”

Okay, so if Snatcher was nervous before, now he was just scared. What kind of horrific creatures would cause the need for such a system? Space was not his forte, never had been actually, but now the idea of stargazing through the window just made him terribly ill at ease. Who knew what he’d happen to see in this endless black void…?

Yeah no, he didn’t want to think about that.

As the bow-wearing kid looked back at them, she seemed to notice their change of behaviour and expression and raised her hands quickly:

-“B-but it’s fine!” she soon added with a forced smile: “It doesn’t happen really ofte-”

-“It has happened before?!” interrupted Moonjumper, with a panicked and horrified look in his eyes. Well, then again, Snatcher couldn’t blame him. The simple thought of an unknown creature possibly infiltrating the ship… It made him shiver. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about with Vanessa!

-“No! I mean, yes, but-!” the child was starting to grow a little frustrated and she eventually covered her face with both of her hands, rubbing it as she was maybe thinking of a way to calm the two. Eventually, she sighed and tried to smile again, though it didn’t reassure Snatcher very much: “Your solar system is safe,” she informed them calmly: “You don’t need to be afraid, for real. I mean, otherwise your planet would have probably been invaded by some giant eldritch horrors by now, or-”

The little girl closed her lips shut and tight as she realized she was only making things worse. Giant eldritch horrors? Normally, that wouldn’t scare Snatcher, but being in his fragile and weak human body made him reconsider a lot of things, and this was one of them. With so many risks of dying and not even being sure to come back as a ghost afterwards, he just couldn’t allow himself to be reckless... Especially with the time limit looming over them, this sword of Damocles looming over their head. He had to be there if Vanessa happened to do something, whether it was as a powerful spirit… Or as a weak and pathetic human being.

He needed to be there.

Right in front of them, the bow-wearing kid was fidgeting uncomfortably, a wince clearly visible on her face as a heavy and awkward silence settled in the room. Well, now it was much too late to try to reassure any of them, especially Moonjumper, whose face said enough about the whole ordeal. Quite soon, the little girl found herself unable to do anything else than to flee the conversation:

-“Uuuh, you know what, I’ll, uh…” she stuttered, gesturing to the engine room: “I’ll tell Hat you’re here, so, hm… Have fun you two!” And, without waiting for them to protest or even reply, the bow-wearing child dashed to the door and disappeared into the hallway, leaving two very confused and nervous spirits on their own.

-“What. The heck,” let out Snatcher, frowning even more, his eyes fixed on the now closed door.

-“I, uh… I’m starting to fear for these children’s safety,” murmured Moonjumper, just as shocked as him.

-“You don’t say,” answered the former ghost flatly. That wasn’t really surprising, considering all the kind of trouble the kids were used to put themselves into. Plus, Subcon was kind of a death trap in itself, and yet the little girls kept visiting no matter how many time they had almost got killed. However, if there was anything to be worried about, this wasn’t the kids’ safety (Ha!) but his.

Eventually, the former spirit turned back to Moonjumper, his mind realizing the golden opportunity he had for being alone with the living corpse. Without the kids being around them, Snatcher could ask about the state of Subcon Forest without having Moonjumper worrying about upsetting the children.

-“So, what are you doing here?” he asked, straight to the point. There was no use in delaying the inevitable and if there was something he had to know about… Well, it was better now than later. With Vanessa able to freeze his entire kingdom again, it was better to be careful.

Just like he had expected, Moonjumper was taken aback by his straightforward attitude, making him fidget just like the bow-wearing kid earlier. This sight was more than enough to tell Snatcher that, yes, there was indeed something bothering Moonjumper, and most likely something linked to their biggest problem at the moment: Vanessa. And yet, the corpse glanced away, biting his lips as if he was trying to find a way to tell him what was happening without upsetting him too much.

But the silence on its own was more than enough to make him upset.

-“Okay,” Snatcher pinched his nose, feeling a weight settling in his stomach. Gods, what was he going to learn… His legs were starting to shake a bit and the man felt like his muscles freezing from the tension and apprehension. If he had to know something, it was now or never: “What’s happening? I know you’re not here just to say ‘hi’, especially since it’s only been a couple of days. So what’s wrong?”

Snatcher didn’t have the strength to play the questioner type too long. Dealing with this body was already quite a lot on his mind, so if he had to get more worries over his unfortunately weak shoulders…

-“It’s…” Moonjumper started, looking much more worried than when he had first appeared in the room. Had he been trying to hide it as long as there was a kid in the room? “It’s your fires. They’re starting to die down already.”

Snatcher frowned again, more and more confused.

-“My… Fires? What do you-” but then, he closed his mouth. His fires. The ones he had lit up to protect Subcon Forest from his ex’s magic, the ones that were the only thing heating up the area enough to keep it warm and safe from Vanessa. The only barrier against this unnatural and terrifying cold that had killed so many people… Including him.

Those fires were dying down.

The former ghost’s face paled up as soon as this thought materialized in his mind, hitting him violently as he was forced to understand what it meant. What it all meant for him, for his forest… And for his minions. If those fires ever went out, then there wouldn’t be anything to protect Subcon from the terrible cold and ice coming from the manor, but this wasn’t the worst, no, oh no.

Vanessa would feel that there were no resistance against her magic anymore. This couldn’t happen, this just couldn’t happen, ever.

-“Snatcher...! Snatcher!” Moonjumper tried to call him back to reality, but Snatcher was too lost in his own horrifying thoughts. How could this already be happening? Those fires shouldn’t die down so soon! Sure, he had predicted this would happen, considering they originated from his powers and, thus, depended on them to remain active and warm. Now that the man was in a human body with none of his magical abilities left, he didn’t have any power source to maintain them. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together: this would be what would make Vanessa understand that the Forest wasn’t as well protected as before. However, he had expected this to happen much, much later. Not now. They hadn’t found anything to reverse the situation yet…!

Oh Gods. He was hyperventilating again. His body was now trembling like a leaf and he only realized he was hugging himself. A loud, very loud ringing noise was echoing in his brain, making him unable to distinguish any other sound. What? Why…?

Why was he so scared…?

He was forced out of his thoughts as he felt two hands on his shoulders, shaking him back and forth to bring him back to the present. He heard his name being called, though it was muffled by that deafening ringing noise. What would he do if Vanessa came before they found any solution? How was he going to protect his kingdom in this weak, stupid and pathetic meat sack of a body? The Queen wouldn’t give them any chance to fight back, especially if she was free to use his powers at their full potential in the Forest…

What was she going to do if she saw him like that again…? That thought alone made his stomach turn strongly, giving him the urge to throw up. No, no, no, no, he couldn’t go through that again, he couldn’t, she wouldn’t let him die this time, she would do her best to keep him alive, locked up for him to never, never escape again-

The pressure on his shoulders disappeared eventually… Only to reappear somewhere else, on his cheeks, forcing him to look up. There, he could see Moonjumper’s panicked face.

-“Snatcher!” the latter yelled, forcing him out of his trance. It was only then that the former spirit managed to glance around him, pulling himself together little by little. He was still in the ship. He was still safe.

His eyes went back on Moonjumper’s, the other letting go of his face now that he was able to think coherently again. As soon as he was free again, Snatcher stepped away: his breath was quick and heavy, his heart was pounding inside of his chest, his eyes were stinging… He reached out to rub his eyes, but as soon as his fingers touched them… He could feel them wet.

Did he really… Did he really start to cry…? In front of Moonjumper out of all people?! This could only be a joke. As fast as he could, he tried to dry them up, not wanting anyone to see him in that state, and especially not the spirit who had stolen his past life. No, absolutely not, not happening in a million years!

-“I’m… I’m sorry,” apologized Moonjumper, his expression no more afraid but guilty instead. His eyes were fixed on him, staring at him with what Snatcher identified as pity, as compassion. Gods, he would always hate being looked at this way. This made him feel even more pitiful than he already was in a state like this. But the other started to talk again, catching his attention again: “I should have been more tactful…”

But this apology wasn’t changing anything. It wasn’t changing the current situation, it wouldn’t keep Vanessa away. Those were just words. And words would never, never save them from a crazy Ice Queen starved for a twisted and inhuman love.

-“How much…” Snatcher could feel a lump in his throat, almost preventing him from talking. He still managed to get the words out, though his voice sounded much too broken for his liking: “How much have they died down?” he decided to ask. Maybe he had been panicking over nothing, perhaps the situation wasn’t as bad as it seemed! After all, he had always been quite powerful, it would make sense that his powers would persist even after him becoming human again!

… Right?

His eyes were staring at Moonjumper, awaiting the other’s answer with an unbearable impatience. He was hoping to see some kind of reassurance, something to make him feel better, anything other than the worst-case scenario he had started to picture since the very beginning of this problem. But the corpse wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t wearing the face of someone intending to comfort him, no…

Moonjumper seemed as terrified as he was himself.

-“Almost… Almost halfway,” answered the corpse with a paler face than the one he already had, his hands trembling as he fidgeted in the air.

As soon as the words came to Snatcher ears, he felt like he had just received a bucket of freezing water over his shoulders. Halfway…? No, no, this couldn’t be, this was too soon, way too soon! The man had thought it would take at least a week for that to happen! How could this be?!

-“No,” he breathed out, stepping away once more. He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it! Those fires were their only hope of keeping Vanessa away and oblivious of the situation! And those same fires were dying down?! “No, no, no, that’s not true,” he kept going, his voice becoming more and more distressed as he was glancing everywhere randomly: “You’re wrong, it’s not possible, they’re not-”

-“They are,” insisted Moonjumper with a troubled voice, not giving him the time to finish: “I thought just like you at first, I… I didn’t want to believe it either… But they’re already getting weaker. I… I checked, multiple times.”

This wasn’t good, this really wasn’t good… Snatcher felt like the world around him was collapsing around him. Their barrier against that crazy monster was weakening, it was weakening and they wouldn’t be able to fight her like this. But the worst question was yet to come, the most terrible and the most terrifying one that Snatcher wanted to avoid thinking about at all cost. But he didn’t have the choice anymore.

-“Do you…” The words got stuck in his throat, his breath becoming heavier and heavier as he struggled to talk again, fighting against the dread that was settling over him: “Do you think she noticed anything yet?”

If Vanessa had noticed anything… Then that would only announce a terrible danger. It wouldn’t take her long to understand that the Forest was soon unprotected… And that she would have the perfect opportunity to strike.

-“I don’t… I don’t know,” answered Moonjumper trustfully as he glanced elsewhere, visibly just as scared as he was: “I haven’t felt anything different coming from the manor yet, so I would guess not, but-”

However, the corpse was cut short in his reply by a high pitched voice that was very, very familiar to the two spirits.

-“What are you two talking about?”

The duo turned in the direction of the voice… Only to find the two little girls, standing up in front of the door leading to the engine room, a confused and worried expression painted on their faces. Both were glancing at them repeatedly, looking for an answer to their question, any answer. But the fear on their faces were already more than a good indicator of what was happening. Soon, their own faces crumpled as they started to understand.

No matter what they had to do to reverse this whole situation… Then they’d have to speed up the process, as much as possible.

Snatcher would not let Vanessa freeze the entire forest again.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hehehehehe another cliffhanger, woohooo- Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter ! See you in the next one !

=> Chapter 17

#A Hat In Time #ahit #ahit fanfiction #Being Human #ahit being human #erekio #erekio bh #fanfiction #my art #Oh The Humanity AU #oth #oth au #doodledrawsthings #snatcher #moonjumper #bow kid #hat kid

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mikkeneko · 3 years

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Got tagged by @ushauz to do Ten Favorite Characters. This post will probably take me a couple sessions to put together, so expect lateness.

As always I am stuck on the scope of the question. Ten favorite! What does that even mean. Ten I thought were the most interesting? The most enjoyable? Characters from comfort series I read a lot, or only read once but really stuck with me? Through the years? Recently? I guess I can just pick the first ten who come to mind.

1. Ista dy Chalion from the Curse of Chalion/Paladin of Souls books. People like to talk a lot about how there should be more middle-aged matron action/adventure/fantasy heroes, well, here’s one. We meet her, at the start of the books, in a very bad place -- she had a stint as a Chosen One god-avatar in her teenage years which absolutely wrecked her life, and she never recovers from it. (Although even in the midst of her Noble Tragedy, she never loses sight of the fact that her nobility does afford her a certain amount of privilege that other women will never have.)

Over the course of the second book she is finally able to move on and recover from it. She starts the book as a crushingly depressed/nervous wreck of a powerless widow, and ends it as a demon-eating sorceress-paladin of a bastard god, with a sexy illegitimate trophy twink on her arm to boot. (I very much doubt that she and Illvin would ever be able to marry, all things considered, but one of the important things she learned -- as a woman whose entire social life had formerly revolved around chastity and propriety -- was to stop letting that bother her.) And she does it all without ever letting you forget that she is a highborn noble lady.

2. Wei Wuxian from The Untamed. Given how much of my mental real estate he’s taking up recently, I surrendered to the inevitable and gave him a spot on the list. I outlined a lot of the reasons I like him so much in this post, but aside from all of that there’s the fact that good (or at least good-hearted) characters who use ‘dark’ powers are magnetically appealing to me.

3, 4, 5. I almost feel like Fai Fluorite (from Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles) Anders (from Dragon Age) and Caleb Widogast (from Critical Role) should all have to share a spot on my list given that they all follow the basic formula of being the Traumatized Cat-Loving Magic Man. It’s not quite that simple -- they all have pretty distinct stories that go in different directions -- but I sort of feel like... I spent 369,149 words explaining why I love Anders, I don’t think I can do it again but tiny.

6. Homura Akemi from Puella Magi Madoka Magica gets a spot on this list, I think, and a spot in my heart. I don’t talk much about the series because I don’t have a lot of original things to say, but I was just reminded of this show recently and how good it was and how good she was -- my brilliant, brave, determinator of a girl with a love as vast as the ocean. And sure, maybe she was willing to burn down the world for the sake of that love, but I sort of feel like that puts her in good company on this list.

7. I’ll go ahead and put Geralt of Rivia (from The Witcher, games and Netflix) on here; I dunno if he’d still make the list 10 years down the line, but I’ve spent a lot of time in 2019-2020 mooning over how great he is, so might as well. He’s not as firmly dead center My Type as some of the others, but he certainly fits the criteria of Unfairly Attractive, Extremely Traumatized, Surprisingly Sassy, and Tragically Good-Hearted. The good-heartedness is key! He could be as pretty and traumatized and witty as he likes but if he were fundamentally an asshole, I would not care about him.

8. Ciaphas Cain (of Warhammer 40k.) In a landscape of published fiction where heroic action characters all tend to follow very similar beats, the debonair, devious and cowardly Ciaphas Cain stands out in a way that really wormed its way into my heart. His books do tend to be a little formulaic, but sometimes that’s just what you need. And the best part about reading the entire series in one go is getting a sense of the shape of the man behind his constant façade of self-deprecation and realizing that as much as he demurs being the brave and kind hero that his misleading reputation paints him as, he is actually pretty damn heroic on his own measures -- he cares about people, even the people under his command who he properly should be thinking of as disposable pawns, he’s way more tolerant of (non-hostile) xenos than 99% of his countrymen, he moves time and time again to block harm and do good in a way that goes beyond his pretty flimsy excuses of ‘well I had to do it to maintain my reputation.’

The main reason he’s so convinced that he’s not a real hero is that he’s been raised in a (lbr, openly fascist) empire so steeped in propaganda of glory and sacrifice that is literally impossible to live up to (since the number one tenet is dying gloriously for the Emperor.) He led an entire caravan of people from the heart of bombed-out, occupied territory in a refugee march that ended up liberating the entire damn planet, he did that, and while he would never have survived without a healthy dose of luck it was still his leadership and skill that took full advantage of that luck. The Imperium of Man, frankly, doesn’t deserve Ciaphas Cain.

9. Raoden and Kaladin (of Elantris and The Stormlight Archives) both share a slot as Brandon Sanderson protagonists who occupy pretty much the same narrative role: they have lost everything, been socially and physically rejected pretty much down to the dust, tossed into a role of waiting for death to come for them in a variety of cruel forms; and instead of giving in to despair they both say no. they both say, I do not accept this for me, and I will not accept this for them either, and they both gather fellow outcasts around them and build themselves a kingdom out of mud and scraps. Yeah, it’s a trope he uses a lot, but it’s a trope I like. (And, come to think of it, a category that Wei Wuxian and Ciaphas Cain both fall under as well. Hm.)

10. Skywise (of Elfquest.) Honestly, at this late date I doubt I could muster an essay explaining why he is the Best Elf. All I can tell you was that this series was super duper important to me when I was a teen, and he was my favorite character from that series. He loved to explore, he loved new knowledge and the sky and the stars, and he loved his friends and family a whole lot.

That’s that! Hmm, who to tag? @cygnahime, @cerusee, @araglas1989, @drowningbydegrees , @jaggedcliffs, @fairandfatalasfair, @fledgling-witch, @overthinkingfeathers, if you have not already done it and are interested!

#kaladin stormblessed #ista dy chalion #long post #wei wuxian #homura akemi #caleb widogast #geralt of rivia #skywise #raoden #ciaphas cain #fai fluorite #hi yeah I still love anders #mikke meta

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linkspooky · 4 years

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Blood is Thicker

Jujutsu Kaisen Chapter 102 Shibuya Incident, Part 20 Analysis Jujutsu Kaisen is a manga that balances character development and thesmes with the fights. There are sometimes entire chapters built around one idea. Last week’s chapter was one such chapter as both fights that between Choso and Yuji, and Mei Mei and Getou centered around the theme of sibling relationships.

Choso and Mei Mei are the literal definition of opposites. One male, one female. One is a curse human hybrid, the other a Jujutsu Sorcerer who exercises curses. One inherited a powerful curse technique from the Kamo Bloodline (blood manipulation) the other had to become strong through creative use of her traditionally weak curse technique. However, what makes them the most different is the way they approach their relationships with their siblings.

Choso is genuinely saddened and vengeful over the death of his brothers, reacting to it the way any human might.While Mei Mei does the complete opposite, she tells her brother to die for her sake in the same chapter. Choso’s entire existence is dedicated to finding the rest of his brothers, and Mei Mei uses her brother as live bait to win against an enemy. There’s a lot we can learn from these two characters just from the way they treat their brothers.

1. Choso the Human Curse

At the end of the Origin of Obedience Arc, Yuji and Nobara have a moral debate on whether they should feel any different about needing to kill the hybrids as opposed to exercising a curse. As despite the fact that they had to defend themselves and didn’t have much of a choice, they still killed something capable of crying for his brother who died in front of him the same way any human would.

Curses are born from negative human emotions, but Choso and his brothers quite literally were born into this world with a mother the same way most humans were. Hanami was born out of a desire to save nature from human pollution. Mahito was born of the fear of other humans. However, during the origin of obedience arcs it’s not specified just what negative grudge gave rise to the curse spirits of the three brothers.

However there is important symbolism with them. One, they are represented by aborted fetuses (because that’s what they literally are) so symbolically they are children who were never given the chance to be born. Or even children who should never have been born. They were born into this world from a mother, and yet because they’re just the creation of some mad sorcerer’s whims they were never meant to exist.

The only tangible thing the brothers have known for hundreds of years is each other. Which means the only motivation they really have is the connection they share with one another.

Choso even says so outright. They don’t really believe the same thing that Jogo, Mahito and the rest of the curses believe that curses have the right to exist as the true humans, but a world where curses are in control without jujutsu sorcerers is a world where they’re allowed to exist. They don’t have to be sealed away as fetsuses whose only awareness is a psychic link with one another.

So if you think about it that way, the goal of all three of the curse wombs is to be born. While their relationship mirrors that of human siblings, because all they’ve ever really had is contact with one another their relationship is closer than human siblings to ever are. They consider themselves three parts of the same body. Each member of the siblings would do anything for other two, because all of them are three equals, three parts of the same whole. They don’t even see each other as separate people, not really.

These insane levels of devotion are why instead of retreating to live another day, both brothers fight until they die for the sake of completing the objective Choso gave them. They don’t really distinguish themselves as individuals so even if both of them died, and Choso lived on, then Choso would be living on for the both of them.

The irony of the three curse womb brothers is that despite them being freaks of nature, half human hybrid, they have the most human and relatable motivations of the curses so far. So much so it even gives Yuuji pause. Choso is trying to avenge his brothers, and then free the rest of his remaining six brothers from their seal so they can live.

Choso’s entire character is designed around family ties and connection. The Kyoto student he foils and shares the exact same jujutsu technique and association with the Kamo clan with, also has a motivation that revolves around his attachment to his mothers. Choso manipualtes blood, blood ties are the symbol for family.

Choso generally acts stoic and aloof compared to the other curses, and yet he’s also the curse to display the most raw human emotion so far.

Choso is represented by ties, connections, restrictions and most of all the loyalty he feels towards his family. Choso is also the most powerful of the three and sees it as his job to protect / avenge them above all else. His duty is always towards his family.

2. Mei Mei

Mei Mei is not a character we know a lot about yet, but there are two interesting facts established about her right from her introduction. If Choso is someone too connected to his own siblings, then Mei Mei lives disconnected from anyone around her. She even says herself she doesn’t understand any connections that aren’t based on money.

The second hints at how ruthless she is. She seems to have noticed what was going on in Kyoto High School’s attempt to kill Yuji, but when confonted by Gojou she plays clueless and refuses to take either side.

Mei Mei is then someone established to be always on her own side. That doesn’t mean she’s necessarily a bad person. Gojou himself is a character who has very selfish motivations, but he’s also an extremely moral person who always uses his tremendous strength for others rather than for himself. Her neutrality is in fact good in some ways, because she doesn’t seem to be alligned with the corrupt side of the Jujutsu world obsessed with family ties and tradition. The second thing to notice about Mei Mei is that she seems to value strength the same way that Gojou does. She doesn’t care about the Zenin family’s politics and only sees Maki for her strength.

In Hidden Inventory, Gojou also identifies Mei Mei as someone strong who would never cry unlike Utahime. So, regardless of where Mei Mei’s loyalties lie she has a mindset very similiar to Gojou’s. She prioritizes herself and her own strength above everything else. However, she does get along with Utahime just fine, so it’s not like she’s incapable of making friends or caring about them as far as we’ve seen.

Mei Mei is introduced in the Shibuya arc with her younger brother, Ui Ui. This is where her foiling becomes clear, Ui Ui says quite frnakly that Ui Ui doesn’t really love her family, that she cares more about work than anything else. The two of them are opposites, if Choso will always choose his brothers over everything else, then Mei Mei will always choose himself.

Mei Mei’s fights later in the arc have been slowly revealing more about her character. That unlike Choso who was born with an incredibly strong and violent cursed technique, Mei Mei was born with one that you’d consider to be weak at first brush.

Mei Mei’s Gojou-like fixation on strength most likely comes from having to survive in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery with a traditionally weak technique, especially since a lot of sorcerers value having a strong technique over everything else.

Mei Mei also refers to herself as having almost given up after being crushed by her failure to improve herself after that, and is claims she herself had to go back and try something different in order to become a strong as she did today.

At that point Mei Mei’s relationship with her brother becomes incredibly suspicious. Remember, Nanami said just a few chapters ago that it’s dangerous to drag children into combat. Ui Ui looks barely older than thirteen if that, and yet he’s acting like a miniature adult. Not only that but Ui Ui is completely obsessed with his sister.

His entire sense of self worth is modeled around being useful to her. This is just speculation at this point entirely, but there’s a case for family members being used and abused in the Jujutsu World before this. Toji was going to sell his own son to the Zenin clan for money. Mechamaru’s parents kept their incredibly ill son in a tank and forced him to become a jujutsu sorcerer because his potential was so high.

In the same chapter that Choso is mourning the deaths of his siblings, Mei Mei callously asks Ui Ui to die for her. She uses her own brother and his loyalty to her as the second half of her cursed technique, to use simple domains to cancel out domains.

Once again this is just speculation but, considering Ui Ui’s unnatural devotion to his sister, the fact that he’s so young, and also the fact that Mei Mei once fell into despair over her inability to advance her own jujutsu technique could Mei Mei have purposefully raised her own younger brother as a weapon to be a part of her technique? Almost everything we’ve been shown so far indicates a really unhealthy and one sided relationship between the two siblings at least.

It could be that Mei Mei is so convinced of her own strength that she doesn’t really see herself as putting her brother’s life at risk. Gojou pulls a similiar move in volume zero. He sends his students specifically into life threatening danger without supervision as a part of his plan. He didn’t necessarily intend any harm, he was just so confident in the fact that he was right he didn’t really see it as needlessly risking the live’s of children the same way Nanami would.

Nanami’s viewpoint that children shouldn’t be actively exposed to danger that’s out of their depth is being shown, more and more often to be a rarity in the jujutsu world. This is of course the same world that gave Yuji, Megumi and Nobara an incredibly dangerous mission just for the sake of killing Yuji not caring that there would be two other casualties.

So even if Mei Mei doesn’t really specifically mean any harm to Ui Ui, she’s still being reckless with his life, in a way that contrasts how protective Choso and his brothers were of each other. In both cases the siblings are unnaturally close, but Choso considered him and the others all a part of the same person, all of them were equal, while Ui Ui seems to exist as an accessory to Mei Mei.

That’s the contrast presented for us this chapter. An inhuman freak of nature curse spirit like Choso genuinely valued the life of his younger brothers in a really human way. While the human Jujutsu Sorcerer is cold and detached, using her younger brother as some kind of tool to benefit her. Choso who can’t get over the deaths of his two brothers, and Mei Mei who risks the life of her younger brother like it’s nothing to save herself.

#jujutsu kaisen #mei mei #ui ui #choso #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk meta

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scottybrock · 4 years

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Lesson Learned - Colby Brock

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon: “Can you write something reflecting on how Colby said he gets mad when people leave and dont tell him. Perhaps he gets mad at y/n or Sam for leaving and doing their own thing and he doesnt realize he's being clingy till the friend group calls him out on it.”

Colby was grumpy. Not only had he woken up without you next to him, but you left without telling him. Not that you had to have his permission, of course, but he’d like to know where you were going, so he knew that you were safe. He frowned. It sounded worse when he really thought about it, but it had always been a big pet peeve of his. Even with Sam. He had a serious case of FOMO, and he loved you- he just wanted to be included.

Perhaps it stemmed from being left out of things in high school, but he didn’t want to think about those times. Those times were some of the darkest of his entire life. He shook his head, trying to brush those thoughts out of his mind. He was living his best life; he had amazing friends, a career that he always dreamed of, and the best girlfriend he could’ve ever asked for. Things were great now.

Except for the teeny-tiny fact of that he had no idea where the fuck you were. There was, however, a simple solution. He picked up his phone and called you. You answered, breathless and giggly. Your voice had a wave of calm washing over him, almost a sedative effect. “Hi, bubs!” Your voice was bright, chipper. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Colby asked, a slight edge to his voice. You blinked, startled. “I went out to breakfast with Tara,” You replied, scrunching your face up slightly. Colby let out a soft scoff. “And you didn’t think to invite me?” He asked, his voice terse. There was no way that you could brush it off as a joke, and your own temper began to rise at the tone of his voice. “Well, Tara and I have had this planned all week,” You tried to reason with him. Tara raised an eyebrow at the tense set of your jaw. You shook your head at her. She scrunched her brows together, confused.

“And I wasn’t allowed to come?” Colby demanded. You inhaled sharply, then rolled your eyes. “Jake isn’t here,” You told him, gritting your teeth. “It was sort of just a girls thing.” Colby scoffed again, and you felt your temper finally flare out. “What is your problem?” You asked, your voice sharp. “Did you call just to start a fight? Ruin my day out with my friend?” Tara’s jaw dropped. It wasn’t often that you and Colby fought. Seeing it, hearing it, was strange.

Colby’s heart thudded in his chest and he frowned unhappily. No, that hadn’t been his intention. “Of course not!” Colby protested. “I hate fighting with you! I just wanted to be included!” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I can have a life outside of you, you know,” Your voice was still sharp, anger simmering in your voice. “I wasn’t aware that my life had to revolve around you.”

You took another deep breath, then stabbed at your toast with your fork. “Honestly, Cole,” You sighed. The fight seemed to drain from you. “I just wanted to have a day out with my friend. I guess that was too much to ask for.” Your voice was sullen. Colby felt like vomiting. “No, that’s not it at all!” Colby tried to protest. You didn’t say anything in response. “Baby?” Colby tried. “I’m going to go. I’ll see you later.” Your voice was soft, sad. Colby hated himself for putting that sadness in your heart. “Don’t leave it like this,” Colby begged, but it was too late- you already hung up the phone. It felt like the final nail in the relationship’s coffin.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie,” Sam sat back on the couch. A few minutes ago, a despondent Colby had knocked on his door, near tears. Katrina, Jake, and Corey were also there. “You’re totally in the wrong here, brother.” Colby frowned at that, his frown deepening when his friends nodded in agreement. “But-” Colby tried, but a fiery Katrina cut him off, her hazel eyes narrowing at him. “I understand wanting to do everything with her,” She gestured to Sam. “But her life shouldn’t have to revolve around you and your needs.”

Jake nodded, his gaze sympathetic but firm. “She’s allowed to have a life outside of you, dude. She’s allowed to hang out with her friends.” Colby huddled in on himself. “I know that,” He replied, his voice small. “I just,” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I guess I just have FOMO. It’s always been like that,” He gestured to Sam, who nodded in agreement. “It’s not even that I think she’s going to cheat on me or anything like that.” He looked exhausted. “I just love her so much, I always want to hop onto her plans and spend as much time with her as possible.”

“Colby,�� Katrina’s voice was soft, kind. “Just think about it- that’s a lot of time to spend with just one person. Eventually, you’re going to want space, even if you love them with all of your heart.” Sam nodded in agreement. “As much as I love Katrina, I can’t spend every waking moment with her. I’d go crazy.” Jake nodded. “It’s healthier to take some time away from someone.” He added.

Colby wiped a hand over his face. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” He asked. Jake shook his head. Corey shook his head. “No, brother,” Corey replied. “It was a minor fuck up, but it’s something you can fix.” He assured his downtrodden friend. “You really think so?” Colby asked, hope making his eyes light up. Sam nodded. “Of course,” Sam replied. “Just talk to her. Apologize, then explain yourself.”

Colby paced around the living room, anxiously waiting for you to come home. The door swung open, and you stood in the doorway, looking uncertain. “Hi,” Colby’s voice was soft, careful. “Hi.” You replied, taking a step forward. Colby’s eyes were wide, beseeching. “Can we talk?” He asked, his eyes pleading with you.

You dropped your purse onto the kitchen counter, then nodded sharply. “Yeah, I think we should.” You replied. Colby took a tentative step towards you, relieved when you met him halfway and wrapped your arms around his waist. “What was all of that about, Colbs?” You asked, your voice soft. “What happened?”

Colby practically melted into your embrace. “I just,” Colby’s voice was small. “I’m sorry, first of all,” He cleared his throat and looked down at you. You nodded slowly. “Okay,” You replied cautiously. Colby’s mouth trembled, and he released a sigh. “I know that I’m clingy, that I always want to join in on your plans, but it’s just because I love you so fucking much, and I want to spend every moment possible with you.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off, practically rambling nervously, hopefully. “I know that it’s not healthy to want to do that, and I promise that I’ll try and change my habits. I just have bad memories of being left out of shit in high school. I’ll try and change, because I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

You gently placed a hand over his mouth to cut off his rambling. “It’s okay,” Your voice was soft. “I appreciate you telling me that, for opening up to me like that. I know it’s hard for you,” You told him. Colby’s shoulders sagged in relief. “And I’m glad that you understand that we can’t spend every waking moment together. I love you so much, but sometimes, I just need me-time.” You removed your hand from his mouth, your fingers brushing tenderly against his cheek. “And you need you-time.”

Colby nodded, understanding what you were saying. “I love you,” His voice trembled, and he offered you the softest, sweetest smile you’d ever fucking seen in your life. Your heart melted in your chest, and you beamed back at him. “And I love you, Colbs.” You replied easily, bringing a wider smile to his face. “Even when I’m being crazy?” He teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re always crazy,” You replied, your grin widening at his mock-outraged face. “But I love you all the time, crazy.” Colby’s expression softened, and that sweet smile blossomed across his face once more. “Just like I love you all of the time.” He replied.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head in a sweet, gentle kiss. “Are we okay?” Colby asked hopefully. You tilted your head back to look up at him. You stood on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“We’re better than okay,” You replied, your eyes twinkling at him beautifully. “We’re magic.”

#cole robert brock #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock imagine #Sam and Colby #colby brock #colby brock fanfic #xplr #traphouse

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takingcourage · 4 years

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Miscalculations: A Witness AU

Chapter Two

Catch up here: Prologue, Chapter One

Pairing: M!Cassian x MC

Word Count: 2,650

Series Summary: After years apart, fate brings Kellen and Cassian together a third time. Can they learn from the mistakes of the past, or are they destined to repeat them once more?

Cassian made it to the bakery twenty minutes early. He’d simply hoped to arrive on time, but the subway had been surprisingly reliable for a Saturday morning. All the same, if he and Kellen made a habit of these meetings, he might consider investing in a car again. Or moving closer to this part of the city. Or maybe even moving in together...

He felt the blush creep up his neck as the bells jangled overhead to announce his entrance. Those are your nerves thinking. You’re getting way ahead of yourself, he cautioned during the walk to the counter. Maybe coffee would help to restore his sense.

After receiving his order, he found an empty table and sat with his back against the wall. It was the perfect vantage point for both the store and the sidewalk, though any calming of nerves that might have resulted from sipping his drink was undone by his instinctive double take every time he caught a glimpse of brown hair.

At 9:58, a slim woman passed in front of the window. By his third look, there was no mistaking that it was Kellen. Even before she slowed to come in, he was positive.

Cassian waved as she quickly scanned the tables, uncertain how else to make his presence known. She raised her hand in reply before making her way to the register to place her order.

He froze for a moment. As he’d tossed and turned in bed the night before, he’d imagined them showing up at the same time and going to the counter together. He’d planned to insist on buying her coffee for old time’s sake before settling into a table that they chose together.

So far, this encounter wasn’t going quite the way he’d anticipated.

It was pretty clear that she wasn’t going to let him to pay for her, but would she want to move? What if she had a preferred table or side of the shop? What if she changed her mind about seeing him again? It wasn’t too late for her to take her coffee and go.

Relax, he reminded, attempting a small smile. There’s nothing to be worried about. But his worries persisted nonetheless. He’d been both hoping for and dreading such a meeting almost since the moment he’d left her. Now that it was here, his mind was a revolving door of best and worst possible outcomes.

Even though his eyes hardly left Kellen’s form, it was still something of a shock when she appeared at the table and sat down.

“Hey.” She slipped into the chair across from him and unbuttoned her jacket, shrugging it onto the back of the seat.

Mouth growing drier by the instant, Cassian managed a rough, “Hey,” before it turned entirely to cotton wool. Seeing her in the flesh after all of this time was almost uncanny. In so many ways, she was exactly as he remembered: all bright blue eyes and golden skin, her polite smile highlighted by a shade of nude lipstick he’d never seen her wear before. In short, she was every bit as stunning as his memories.

Beyond her well-known appearance, however, was the underlying sense that she had changed. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but her presence seemed a bit calmer -- more relaxed, perhaps. But even with this increased sense of self, he didn’t miss the fact that she took her time with the initial sip of her latte, allowing him ample opportunity to make the first move.

Cassian toyed with the cardboard band of his cup, eyes on Kellen’s long fingers as they spanned the width of her drink. How many nights had he dreamt of those fingers stroking his hair? Interlacing with his as they went together for an evening stroll? Stirring up unspeakable pleasures in the hours before they fell asleep?

Clearing his throat, he eased himself back to reality. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Harika said you wanted to talk.”

He hadn’t been expecting much, but it still stung a bit that those were the first words out of her mouth. “I did. I do. It’s good to see you again,” he continued, trying not to hope that she would return the sentiment. “I never expected that it would take so long for me to track you down. Can’t believe you’re finally here.”

Their eyes met briefly, and she glanced back down at the lid of her cup. She was holding something back. Cassian didn’t know what it was, but he recognized the slight bounce in her jaw as she bit her tongue.

“Are you back in Boston for a while?” she inquired after a pause.

“I think so, yeah. The job here opened up and I couldn’t resist. Missed the city too much.”

“The international fugitive scene wasn’t everything you hoped for?”

As she leaned forward with the question, he saw that an eyelash had fallen onto her cheek. Three years ago, he would have brushed it away without a second thought, but the action was much too familiar now. He forced his eyes away with a pang of regret. Though mostly physical, he missed that intimacy immensely.

Noticing the crook of her brow, he realized his mind had wandered without providing a response. “The work was good for me, but I got my fill of it pretty quick. How’s finance? Got your name on the building yet?”

Kellen laughed, hinting at the closest thing to a genuine smile he’d seen since she arrived. “Let’s give it another few years.”

Cassian took her nod toward the future as a good sign. “But you like the work?” He’d expected the question would earn him a full smile, and he was delighted to be proven right.

“I love it.”

“Good. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.” He took another swig of his americano, weighing his words as the accustomed bitterness ran over his tongue. “I’ve missed you a lot. Spent a lot of time thinking about ya.”

“Me too,” she admitted so quietly that he wondered if she’d meant to say the words aloud.

“I know we’d talked about reevaluating where we were once I was back, but that was years ago. When I ran into Harika, I thought there might be a chance...”

“A chance for what?”

Thoughts faltering, he lifted the cup to his lips to buy himself a few extra seconds. No matter what, his answer would be a gamble, and her tone gave nothing away. His head told him it was a mistake, but instinct drove him forward. “I loved you, Kellen. I might still love you,” he hedged. “And I’m not trying to force anything if you don’t want it. But I can’t help wondering if we’ve found each other again for a reason.”

Kellen took a slow breath, regarding him from under thick, dark lashes. For a moment, he read the same longing he’d seen dozens of times before. That look was one of the reasons he’d kept hoping that they were on the brink of something serious. Though gone in an instant, it was completely beguiling while it lasted.

“It’s really tempting, but a lot has changed. We can’t just jump back in time and go back to how things were.”

“Of course.”

“It’s been a rough few years for me -- not bad, but hard.”

Cassian remembered what Harika had said about the stalker. “I can’t imagine, Kellen. After I promised to be there to protect you, it must have felt like I abandoned you.”

There was a trace of something like confusion as she turned her face to the window. Eyes flashing, she took a slow breath before the moment passed. “I managed fine.”

"That’s no surprise, but I’m still sorry you had to go through it alone.” His hold on the cup tightened. In spite of the changes he’d picked up on, she was proving to be the same noncommittal, unsentimental Kellen. What did you expect? he asked himself as his thumb dug into the cardboard.

“Like I said, it’s fine,” she equivocated.

In spite of her willingness to meet with him, it was becoming abundantly clear that this wasn’t going to be as simple as picking up where they’d left off. If there was any hope of making this work, Cassian was going to have to start out slow and get to know the playing field again. With three years’ worth of baggage to sort through, it was difficult to know where to begin.

“I don’t want to push you into anything,” he tried, “if you’re not interested, that’s fine. But if you are, maybe we could spend some time catching up. I wanna hear about anything you wanna tell me.”

Kellen shifted toward the back of her seat. “Cassian, I probably should have led with this when I came in, but...” She sucked an audible breath, and he tensed in anticipation of the bad news he knew was coming.

She wasn’t interested in him. This was going to be goodbye -- for real this time. With or without closure, he was finally going to have to learn to get over her. He dropped his gaze, hardly conscious of anything but his own pounding heartbeat.

“Look. There isn’t an easy way to tell you this...” she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, as if steeling herself to deliver the final blow. “I was pregnant.”

Cassian’s heart stopped beating altogether.

“I found out a couple weeks after you left, but the phone would never connect when I tried to call. After months of silence, I stopped trying.”

He stared forward, dumbly. When he was capable of lifting his eyes from the laminate tabletop, all he could see was the glassy sheen in her own. As unusual a sight as it was, it hardly merited a second thought in the aftermath of that bombshell.

“So, yeah. Life’s a little more complicated now than it was before you left. But I wouldn’t trade my son for anything.”

Raking a hand through his hair, Cassian tried to grasp something real -- something tangible and familiar in the wake of reality crashing down around him. As much as he had hoped to someday be a father, this was never the way he’d expected to find out.

“You have a son? My son?”

Her head bobbed with a slight nod. “He turned two in May.”

In the space of a second, the time of their separation had expanded into a chasm, impassable and full of days that could never be recovered.

Living without Kellen had been a disappointment in many ways, but it was no tragedy. Being out of his son’s life for more than two years was an unfathomable loss.

It was a loss he was desperate to fix.

“Can I meet him?”

She hesitated. “I knew you were going to ask that. I can’t blame you for wanting to be part of his life, but it’s not that simple.”

“Don’t keep him from me, Kellen. Please.” He hadn’t even known of the child’s existence until minutes before, yet it was already unbearable to consider letting him go. Closure was the furthest thing from his mind.

He looked up to find Kellen’s eyes already on him. In them, he read the same uncertainty that he felt, accompanied by a pair of tears that had spilled carelessly over her lashes.

In the four months they’d spent together, he’d seen her eyes spark from anger and weep from onions or the cool sea breezes, but he’d never seen her cry. This newfound vulnerability stoked his compassion, and he reached a hand under the table to take her knee.

She tensed at first, a flicker of surprise disrupting the flow of her thoughts. On her next breath, she relaxed into the touch and covered his fingers with her own, still warm from her drink. “Okay. But will you agree to some ground rules?”

Cassian gripped her knee, leaning forward in the chair as he waited to hear her demands. “I will.”

“He can’t know who you are yet.”

His mouth settled into a firm line, but he nodded slightly. If it meant getting to be part of his son’s life, nothing else mattered.

With her free hand, she swiped away the tears before they made it any further down her cheeks. Schooling her features, she became the picture of resolve once again. “I also need you to understand that this doesn’t mean you suddenly get access to the rest of his life. I’m willing to see how things go, but this has to happen on my terms.”

Frustration mounting, he pulled his hand away and cast it through the hair at his temple. Being denied the first two years of his child’s life was already a bitter pill to swallow. Losing any more would only add insult to injury.

“This isn’t how I wanted you to find out,” she told him softly. “I did everything I could to find you three years ago... But finding you now doesn’t mean that I can uproot everything that Owen’s ever known. I can’t do that to him.”

Owen. Cassian latched onto the name, immediately torn between a strange sense of relief and the desire to cry. Owen Reed. If circumstances had been different -- if he hadn’t made the greatest mistake of his life -- the boy might even have been Owen Keane. His breath came in with a shiver.

He had to make this right.

“When can...?” the rest of the thought suffocated under his swelling emotions.

“Tomorrow afternoon?”

His head swam as he processed the question, and a vigorous nod preceded his answer. “I’m free.”

“There’s a park on the other side of the neighborhood that we sometimes go to on weekends. He’s usually up from his nap around 2:30 or so, so we could be there by 3:00...”

”Should I bring anything, or...?”

Amused, her plush lips angled into a smirk.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve gone to the park,” he chuckled wryly, and some of his tension dissipated.

Eyes glinting almost playfully, her mouth fell into a pleasant curve. “Maybe wear clothes that can get a little dirty, but that’s it. Everything we need is already there.”

With a plan in place, their circumstances started to feel more real. He inhaled another shaky breath as his vision blurred beneath him. Somewhere in this city, there was a boy who’d had to live without knowing his father all because of a foolish decision he’d made three years before.

He’d do everything in his power to make it right.

“Tomorrow?”

I’ll text you the address later tonight,” she promised. “For now, I should get home. It’s been a busy week, and I promised Harika I’d be back before lunch.”

“Thanks, Kellen.” He wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for, exactly, but it felt appropriate, somehow. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.” She scored the paper of her cup with her fingernail as he waited for further response. “But it is good to see you again. I’ve missed those gorgeous green eyes.”

The compliment was genuine, and even if it wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear, it still had the power to evoke a smile. “They’ve missed seeing ya.”

“Goodbye, Cassian.” She fastened her jacket and stood. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Kellen. I’ll be waiting for that address.”

“I won’t forget.”

He watched her retreating figure through the window until she disappeared into the crowd. Only after he’d lost sight of her did he expel the sigh that had been building over the last ten minutes.

Much as he’d hoped this meeting would be life changing, what she’d shared had shifted his entire vision of the future. He wasn’t just a Marshal anymore; he was a father. The father to a boy he’d never even met.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #witness: a bodyguard romance #cassian keane #cassian x mc

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mediaeval-muse · 3 years

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Book Review

The Wolf in the Whale. By Jordanna Max Brodsky. New York: Redhook, 2019.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction, magical realism

Part of a Series? No

Summary: A sweeping tale of clashing cultures, warring gods, and forbidden love: In 1000 AD, a young Inuit shaman and a Viking warrior become unwilling allies as war breaks out between their peoples and their gods-one that will determine the fate of them all. "There is a very old story, rarely told, of a wolf that runs into the ocean and becomes a whale." Born with the soul of a hunter and the spirit of the Wolf, Omat is destined to follow in her grandfather's footsteps-invoking the spirits of the land, sea, and sky to protect her people. But the gods have stopped listening and Omat's family is starving. Alone at the edge of the world, hope is all they have left. Desperate to save them, Omat journeys across the icy wastes, fighting for survival with every step. When she meets a Viking warrior and his strange new gods, they set in motion a conflict that could shatter her world...or save it.

***Full review under the cut.***

***Mild spoilers in the plot section.***

Content/Trigger Warnings: rape, sexual assault, racism, misogyny, blood, violence, infanticide, slavery

Overview: I’m not an expert on Inuit culture, so if there are any Inuit, Indigenous, or scholarly reviewers out there who can speak more about the representation in this book, I highly recommend listening to them over me. (I am, however, a medievalist, so I can speak to the Norse elements in this book, if desired.)

The Wolf in the Whale is the kind of book that I have wanted for years; one that pushes back against the colonial gaze and gives us a perspective on Vikings from a non-European point of view. Unfortunately, I’m not entirely sure if this book did that for me. Brodsky (from her own research note) is not Inuit herself, though she does detail her research process and seems knowledgeable about some aspects of Inuit culture. Combined with some storytelling elements that she included in her tale (such as rape and misogyny), I feel somewhat conflicted about how to rate this book, even as I appreciate what it was trying to do. I think for me, personally, The Wolf in the Whale didn’t do as much interrogation into gender identity as it could have, nor do I think making Inuit spirituality/religion fit into Norse mythology entirely rejects a colonial point of view. I did, however, appreciate the premise and the writing, so I’m giving this book a 3.5 star rating.

Writing: Brodsky’s prose is very literary in tone, and I thought that Brodsky wrote with an easy balance between telling and showing. She uses neither flowery language nor sparse descriptions, and it was easy to visualize what was going on without feeling like everything was being spoon-fed to me. I also think the sentences flowed well and the pace was generally appropriate, and I found it easy to keep reading, even though this book was around 500 pages long.

This book is, however, written in first person, which I personally don’t care for because first person can make some descriptions seem awkward. Brodsky manages to sidestep a lot of awkwardness by using a more literary style, reigning in some emotion to make it feel as if the POV character is retelling their story from a future, detached kind of mental state. So props to her for that.

Plot: The Wolf in the Whale follows Omat, an Inuit girl who is raised as a boy, as they struggle to ensure their family’s survival. Over the course of the novel, Omat encounters food shortages, divine conflicts, and strangers (including other Inuit, Indigenous peoples, and Norsemen), and the majority of the latter half of the book is spent following Omat as they search for their cousin, Kiasik, who has been kidnapped by Norsemen.

In general, I think the structure of the plot worked well. Brodsky divides her book into sections that reflect different conflicts in Omat’s life, and I think the events unfolded in a logical way. I also really enjoyed the valuation of stories (especially when Omat and Brandr, a Viking, bond over storytelling) and the magical realism that gave Omat a connection to the spirit world. I furthermore appreciated that Omat’s story was one of Inuit contact with Vikings; as a medievalist, I’ve studied sagas that this book is loosely based on, and I appreciate the fact that Brodsky represented the Vikings not as heroic explorers, but colonizers and slavers.

I did not, however, enjoy the fact that so much of this book seemed to revolve around misogyny, and I got a weird sense that even though Omat is our POV character, Norse mythology seemed to take center stage when the Vikings showed up. First, the misogyny: I can’t speak to the accuracy of the Inuit stories about their gods and goddesses, nor can I say for certain if Inuit peoples have strict prohibitions against women doing men’s work and vice versa; thus, I can’t say whether the numerous stories about rape or the taboos that Omat is punished for violating are accurate or exaggerated. However, I think I can say that Omat needed to have a much more defined personal journey that didn’t revolve around her disdaining women’s work or being sexually assaulted. As a girl raised as a boy, Omat is incredibly anxious about being perceived as a hunter and a man - to the point where they express a lot of disgust or shame at being seen wearing women’s clothes or doing women’s work. I think there’s a way to explore Omat’s gender anxiety without denigrating the role women play in Inuit culture, as without women’s work, everyone would die. To be fair, Omat does learn to appreciate women’s roles over time, but I think that process needed to be more gradual and punctuated with plot points where a woman’s skill or knowledge proved to be valuable.

I also do not think there needed to be so much sexual assault (or threat of sexual assault). While I do think Brodsky showed Omat to be affected by her rape, and there’s a nice moment towards the end where Omat addresses all the rape that their goddesses have endured in their stories, I also think the constant threat of sexual assault was a little much. Again, I can’t speak to whether Inuit culture expects women to essentially be sexually available for their husbands at all times and able to be “loaned out” to other men, but I think I can say that as a female reader, I was tired of Omat being threatened to be raped all the time, by Inuit and Viking alike. I would have preferred that Omat come to view their stories in a new light after their assault, and that Omat form bonds with other women who straddle the line between male and female (such as Freydis and Loki, despite their antagonism) in order to grow as a person without a concrete binary gender identity.

Now for the Norse mythology stuff.

***HERE BE SPOILERS.***

While I did like the magical realism that made Omat’s spirituality feel real, I think actually speaking to Norse gods themselves pushed this book from historical fiction to fantasy for me in a way that felt jarring. Also, I think that Brodsky put a little too much value on Norse mythology to the point where it became validated over Inuit spirituality towards the end. To explain: Omat learns in the book that Inuit gods are actually the Frost Giants from Norse culture, and while I get that Brodsky was trying to make all religions fit into one cosmic system, it felt like she wasn’t so much rejecting colonialism as much as she was imposing it. I didn’t like the fact that Inuit gods being Frost Giants meant that Norse myths are real and Inuits have to fit into Norse cosmology, not the other way around. Moreover, Omat is responsible for bringing about Ragnarok, which means that the big mythological battle is between Inuit and Norse gods. While all the gods are reborn, so to speak, after the battle, only the Norse ones speak to Omat, which felt a little unfair.

Characters: Omat, our POV protagonist, is a compelling character in that they have interesting strengths, flaws, and personal challenges. As a girl raised as a boy, Omat struggles to find an accepted identity within their culture, while also getting in trouble for pride (especially when they try to “prove” that they are a man). I liked that Omat was so interested in stories and connected so strongly with the spirit world, and I found their courage to be admirable. I did have some problems with Omat’s utter shame at all things feminine; as mentioned above, I think the acceptance of women’s work and a female body could have been a good character arc, but I think everything was too mired in misogyny to be powerful.

Brandr, a Viking and Omat’s ally-turned-lover, was admirable in that he rejected a lot of the violence of Norse culture and learned to see Omat as a capable, formidable leader. It was a little strange to me, however, that Brandr seemed to offer Omat what their people could not: acceptance of their gender-fluidity. It seemed like almost a critique of Inuit society, though to be fair, Norse people also expressed a lot of misogyny and homophobia in this book. I hated the fact that Brandr was revealed to have raped 3 women prior to meeting Omat, and while it’s good that Brandr realizes how wrong he was to do that (even though his culture told him that it was expected of a Viking), I think he got off far too easy.

Supporting characters were interesting in that they were heavily flawed. Kiasik, Omat’s cousin, struggles with his affection for Omat and his envy of them, leading him to make some decisions that open a rift between the two. Freydis, the legendary leader of the Viking expedition, is determined and harsh, which is fine since she is a major antagonist, but I would have preferred more commentary on gender roles when Omat saw her inhabiting male and female roles. Various Inuit characters were also interesting, such as Omat’s grandfather and adoptive mother, who support Omat in their personal journey. Issuk and his family were hard to like, since Issuk is a braggart and a rapist and his band does little to stick up for Omat.

TL;DR: The Wolf in the Whale has an exciting premise and does well with its magical realism. Moreover, it is well written and clearly has good intentions; however, misogyny and Euro-centric/colonial biases still creep up and detract from the valuation of the main character’s Inuit culture.

#book reviews

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travllingbunny · 4 years

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The 100: 7x02 The Garden

I love this episode. Mostly for the beautiful and emotionally complex Octavia-centric flashback story, for all the exciting revelations about the nature of the Anomaly and time dilation and the overall story of this season (all the exposition was done in a surprisingly natural way and never bothered me), and the way the two timelines were interwoven. It says a lot that I wasn’t even bothered by the lack of Clarke or Bellamy - or the fact that this episode featured only 6 characters (plus some extras in suits), one of which was a deranged minor character we’ve never seen before. Episodes focused on a small number of characters and plots often feel more coherent.

Comparisons between The Garden and Eden are obvious, the two even have basically the same title, and many similarities and contrasts, so I rewatched Eden yesterday, and I’ll be writing a post about that episode soon, too. I rewatched the entire show just before season 7 started, but season 5 is the only one I’ve never written reviews of, so this seems like the right occasion. it will also be interesting to rewatch Red Queen after this.

One of the things that I noticed rewatching season 5 is how well the cinematography has been used in seasons 5, 6 and 7 and how it differentiates different worlds. The ruined Earth in season 5 was mostly in sepia, yellow and grey tones, looking like a gloomy desert - except for Eden, which had normal colors. Sanctum has bright colors - it’s beautiful, but a little too colorful, almost psychedelic, dangerous. Skyring in this episode mostly seen in soft light and blueish-green colors - a peaceful paradise.

Or is that a prison? A solitary/house arrest? I love this duality - it can be both. The most beautiful place can be a prison that drives you insane, if you’re all alone.

One garden, two serpents

Isolation is a theme we’ve seen on The 100 with many characters: Clarke was in a solitary for a year, distracting herself with drawings, then alone roaming around for 3 months, then forced to spend 6 years on a deserted planet, but she was only completely alone for the first 2 months, when she was fighting with nature and lack of food and water as much as with loneliness, and she was talking to Bellamy every day - who couldn’t even hear her - and hoping to see him again. Murphy was alone for 3 months in a fully stacked bunker on Becca’s island, but comfort is no help when you’re all alone, only have one and the same videos to watch and music to listen to, and you don’t know if you’re getting out. Octavia was the Girl Under the Floor for 16 years, and she had her mother and brother, but no one else; then she was locked up for a year; and after all the fighting, including the 6 years in the bunker with 1200 people she ruled over (which was maybe the time when she was more lonely than ever!), she ended up spending 10 years of her life on a planet with a family of two people - again - and no one else, and - just as when she was a child - with little hope that she will ever have a chance to meet anyone else. And here we see the effects of a prolonged isolation from everyone else, with poor Orlando (that’s what he’s called in the end credits), the prisoner who dug out dead bodies and used a creepy doll just to have an illusion of friends.

Unlike Clarke in 5x01, Octavia did not have to struggle with loneliness or fight to survive, but the paradise in which she had accidentally ended up in was also a prison of sorts, since she could not get out of it and was likely to spend all her life there, without ever seeing her brother or any other people, except for Diyoza and Hope. Like Clarke, Octavia found a family, and a child to take care of, but unlike Clarke, Octavia did not become a little girl’s adoptive or substitute mother.

The title evokes Diyoza’s line from 5x13: “One garden, two serpents. Eden never stood a chance.” Instead, they got to have their paradise here, until Octavia’s attempt to send her brother a message brought the Disciples from Bardo there to capture them. I’m not sure if that was a bad or a good thing - since that was probably their only way out of Skyring.

(There’s also a literal garden in the episode, and this was the first time we saw Octavia farm the land since 4x09, when she learned how to do it on Ilian’s farm. That was the last time Octavia tried to escape her darkness by having an idyllic farm life and a relationship, at least for a few days before the end of the world comes, but her past came back in the form of those people who recognized and attacked her - and she realized she wasn’t cut out for peace and rode into Polis looking for a war. She wasn’t ready at the time to give up violence. In season 5, she insisted that “Farmers won’t save the world, warriors will” - which Monty proved wrong. And now, Octavia has become a farmer.)

But Octavia’s paradise was forced on her, and it was clear that she and Diyoza didn’t really feel the same about living the rest of their lives on Skyring. The difference is, Diyoza doesn’t have anyone else in the world she cares about - everyone she once cared about has been dead for centuries. and she has given up on trying to change the world. She obviously wanted to do it once, when she was fighting “the fascist government who tried to take my home” and blowing up buildings, but she’s now tired of the violence, after being a terrorist/rebel, then a prisoner of a big corporation, again a rebel fighting against that corporation to save prisoners from being left to die just because they were deemed expendable, then she led another war - which ended with her baby-daddy destroying the Earth, and now she’s tired of the violence and wants to have a different life in peace with her daughter, who she didn’t even want to teach fighting of any kind. She’s also content to live without ever reuniting with the rest of the human race. Maybe partly because she was quite hurt to learn that she was supposedly in history books as one of the worst people ever. (Which she really shouldn’t have taken seriously - since it was Russell who said it, so these “history books” can only be Sanctum history books, written by Russell or his family members or other Primes. They left Earth around the time when Diyoza was just arrested, so it’s unlikely they even knew what history books said about her in the next few years - and even if those history books said so, they would be history books written under the same government Diyoza was fighting against.)

Octavia, on the other hand, still has other people she cares about in the world, most of all her brother. Not only did she leave a time when she knew Bellamy and others are likely to be in danger from the Primes - and she had no way of knowing they had learned the truth about the Primes by themselves - but they parted on bad terms and with unresolved issues and with no catharsis, and Bellamy would probably be left thinking she really died when he left her on Alpha - instead of learning that she did resolve her issues and find peace. She didn’t know that her attempts to get back the way she came, through the lake, would never work - if she had succeeded, she would have probably ended up on Bardo instead. Ironically, only when she made peace with the fact she couldn’t go back and sent a letter in a bottle, it ended up alerting the Disciples - but it all eventually resulted in Octavia ending up back on Sanctum in the same place she left (whether she escaped and came back from Bardo or through some other planet?), and got the chance to tell Bellamy in person that she understands him now.

There’s some ambiguity about Octavia’s relationships with Diyoza and Hope - at times it seems that Octavia is Hope’s co-parent: she lives with them and is closely involved in raising Hope, after all - not exactly like an aunt who just occasionally visits and plays with the kid. All three of them are shown as a close family unit. However, Octavia does not see herself as Hope’s mother - nor does Hope see her that way. She is “Aunty O”. Hope has a mother, and not an absent or inattentive one, but someone like Diyoza, fully focused on raising her daughter. Octavia and Diyoza may be seen as sisters - with “Aunty O” and Octavia telling Bellamy in the letter that she loves her like she loves him even though she’s a ‘pain in the ass’. Or they could look like “an old married couple”, as Diyoza called them back in season 6 when they were finishing each other sentences.

(But if we’re supposed to think that Octavia’s and Diyoza’s close relationship never got sexual in any way, in spite of the fact they lived together for 10 years without any other adults around and with almost no hope they would ever see another adult, then I guess one or both of them is really extremely heterosexual, real 0 on Kinsey’s scale. If we’re supposed to think that. Technically, we don’t know for sure.)

Anyway, this ambiguity of whether Octavia was a co-parent to Hope or not has caused some debate on Twitter about what degree of responsibility Octavia exactly had towards Hope and whether she was allowed to leave her. But even if Octavia is seen as a co-parent, I don’t subscribe to the idea that every adult, especially a woman, who comes into the situation of taking care of a child must immediately forget about all other relationships, concerns and desire and subjugate their entire life to taking care of that child. Especially when it also means that the child will be isolated from the world at large. I didn’t think it was healthy when Bellamy’s whole life revolved around protecting Octavia, either, or when Clarke, after escaping Polis in season 5, thought for a moment that her and Madi living all alone, as they did during those 6 years, would be an OK future for either of them.

Octavia may not have thought the whole time dilation through (yes, it’s quite likely Hope would be old or die before she returned from Sanctum with the other people, since she’d need time to find Bellamy and others, explain things to them and back them go back, but she still had hope (no pun intended) that both she and Hope could have more of life than and was still fighting to make contact with her people on the other side. Diyoza may have been right about the time dilation, but how did she imagine Hope’s life was going to be in the future? Yes, if Octavia left, Hope would end up alone after Diyoza died. But if Octavia stayed, Hope would still be left all alone after Diyoza and Octavia died, and never got a chance to meet anyone else, have any other kind of life, be a part of the human race.

One may argue Diyoza was being selfish, trying to keep Octavia there, and she certainly did take away Octavia’s choice and forced her to stay. Though, in her defense, she thought she was saving her life - but it was still was one of those “I’m making choices for you because I know what’s best for you”. And it wasn’t her whole motivation - it was mostly about wanting to keep Octavia there as a part of their family unit. Octavia called her out on the fact that it wasn’t all about Hope, it was about their relationship, too. Which certainly seemed emotionally intense, with Diyoza being hurt and sort of jealous at the thought that Octavia would leave her and Hope and that she may love her less than she loves her brother.

The episode played a lot with the parallels between Octavia and Bellamy, with O using what she had learned from Bellamy to take care of young Hope the same way. And the parallel between Octavia and Hope as “Girls Under the Floor” were even more obvious, even before Hope literally had to go under the floor to hide from the Disciples. That would put Diyoza in Aurora’s role and Octavia in Bellamy’s. It’s not a perfect parallel, as Bellamy didn’t have any other strong attachments to anyone or any other family while Aurora was alive. But, while Aurora seemed to have no other vision for the future except focusing fully on hiding Octavia, Bellamy tried to give his sister an opportunity to meet other people and live a life - by taking her to the dance - and Octavia was similarly the one who wished to bring other people to Skyring and was giving Hope the hope (!) she would meet them.

The Three Stooges and the Anomaly

(Thanks @jeanie205 for that moniker LOL) The one thing that brings down this episode (I’m taking away half the point from it) is the very unlikely degree of plot-induced incompetence that the trio of Hope, Echo and Gabriel displayed throughout this episode - so they could get stuck on Skyring, maybe for 5 years:

Hope knew the bridge was under the lake - she should have known the note could get washed up!

How come Hope didn’t know there was more than one door to the cabin? Or if Orlando built the other door, or someone else who was there while she was away, how come none of the trio noticed that other door?

Even the windows looked big enough for someone to come in. Why didn’t at least one of them stand guard in the cabin? Or at least somewhere close where they could see what’s happening in the cabin? Why were they both sitting somewhere outside? They weren’t even close to the door. Did they think Orlando could only come into the cabin from one direction?

Why didn’t Gabriel take the memory viewer with him when he ran out? Come on, dude, that’s one of the most important things you have there, and you know there is a deranged guy outside, and you just leave it there?

Still, I enjoyed this part of the story, too, especially with all the new info we got - which got me speculating the whole week - see my theories here.

Gabriel is so adorable as an old man scientist in a young body and even the fact he is more interested in the Anomaly than in any living human is kind of endearing. We also got a glimpse of the nerdy young doctor who was once crushing on Becca before going to the mission and meeting Josephine.

Echo is finally starting to justify her main character billing this season, getting an actual storyline rather than tagging along around Bellamy, and she is already a much more enjoyable character. She hasn’t actually changed much yet - but she’s now put in the position as an audience surrogate, wondering what the heck is going and asking question like “Where is Bellamy?” while Hope and Gabriel spout exposition (they do it so well though that you don’t even mind it). It helps a lot that she’s not around any of the Spacekru, so we don’t have to deal with the forced “we’re all close family due to the 6 years off-screen, which we spent in utter boredom and without any actual dangers we’d have to deal with” dynamic. Instead, now a character she’s interacting with (Hope) and Echo’s own hallucinations are constantly calling her out on her past actions, which helps fix the issue that season 5 created - the impression that Echo is the one character who doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of her past actions, with her past being simply waved away with “they spent 6 years with her and she’s now one of the good guys” (Although, while I like Hope calling Echo out, Hope got it wrong - Echo didn’t kick Octavia over the cliff after stabbing her, Octavia tripped and fell. But that’s not the first time in the show the writers Octavia has misremembered an event.)

This will be the second time Echo is stuck somewhere in a peaceful place with just a few people for 6 5 years. How much of this will be off-screen? It certainly helps that we’ve already seen her interact with Hope and Gabriel in two episodes, and the dynamic between Hope and Echo is developing, with Echo starting to comfort Hope when Hope showed vulnerability behind her fast-talking snarky exterior.

Echo still doesn’t seem ready to “face her demons”, since her reaction to her own hallucination telling her she’s still just a killer and asking her who she is if she doesn’t have someone (Bellamy) to follow, was to ignore it and try to kill people and now swear she’ll kill everyone she needs to in order to get to Bellamy. But I assume this is just the beginning of her long overdue character development.

Was there significance to Echo plucking the flower and then looking at the sky? Was it simply her starting to appreciate the beauty of the planet? t It reminds me of how Clarke was touching the flowers in Eden in 5x01.

Other observations:

Technically, I guess this episode was really Hope-centric, since she was the only character in both timelines.

I’m not sure what exactly the scientific explanation is for Octavia’s arm healing the moment she got to Skyring. How does the whole temporal flare thing work?

"What is it about Bellamy that makes otherwise sensible women willing to die for him?” - I see what they did there. I bet this is a hint about what the focus of a lot of this season is. Hope meant Echo and Octavia, but we know that Clarke’s storyline will also soon become about looking for Bellamy “her missing people”, “her family”, “people she loves”. On the other hand, I’m not sure how much it makes sense for Hope to ask that - she must have heard Octavia’s stories about Bellamy, so she’d know what it is about him that’s so special - his devotion to those he loves and how ready he is to do anything for them. But maybe Hope felt some of that same jealousy Diyoza did, or her mom’s jealousy rubbed off on her, because Octavia kept trying to get back to her brother.

It’s interesting that Octavia named “Bellamy, Clarke and Madi” as the main people she wanted to bring here. She didn’t mention Raven or Miller (as she would if she was talking about the Delinquents as a family going back to season 1, or even her mentor Indra, or friend Niylah. Just Bellamy and Clarke and Madi - as a part of her family she wants to bring. There’s no reason why she’d see Madi as her family but not Indra, so this definitely seems like Clarke and Madi are seen as Bellamy’s family and a package deal in Octavia’s eyes. (And that’s before she even witnessed what happened in 6x10.) Not that surprising considering Octavia’s “another traitor who you love” comment from 5x08 and her dislike of Echo. Ironically, almost killed all three of them as Blodreina, which is maybe also a sign of how much she’s disconnecting from that role - even though she hasn’t gone through her 6x09 Face Your Demons hallucination yet.

It turns out Octavia was older than Bellamy in 6x09-6x13. The green box was probably her peaceful life on Skyring that she did not remember. But the red box was the unfinished business with her past. It seems that she was changed psychologically by her time on Skyring even without remembering it.

Hope is now the third child raised on stories about the Delinquents. Little Hope liked Murphy, just like Jordan did during his “rebellious phase”. Madi, however, was an Octavia fan.

I guess Orlando saw Hope’s name written on the door, since it doesn’t seem they ever met before. But where did the creepy doll come from?

If prisoners all end up insane as he did - and they probably do, after such long periods of complete isolation - that’s a really messed up way of making people into “true believers”, by breaking them completely. A solitary confinement that’s years long? Cruel.

The Bardo symbol (Phoenix) was seen in the bucket and bottle Octavia was using, which proves that the Bardo people had already been on the planet before Octavia and Diyoza ended up on it.

If Orlando had no one else to dig out, I guess they always make sure to bring the prisoners back after they’ve served their sentence. But they probably killed Dev. I hope we get the story about Dev and Hope in flashbacks. Seeing what his facial expression was at the time of death, that guy certainly didn’t die a natural death.

The Becca cameo was cool, and this was a whole new face of Becca, kind of cheeky and funny. But her comment that time dilation is “sexy as hell”... um, OK, Yeah, how lucky you get to “get to the future faster” and possibly die before getting a chance to ever reunite with anyone else you know? To be fair, she did not expect all the others in the mission to die and leave poor Colin on his own.

Gabriel “had to be sure she (Josephine) was really gone”. But maybe a part of him deep inside hoped she wasn’t..

So the Anomaly was already there when Colin Benson crashed on the planet. Hmm... that seems to go against my theory that the Anomaly Stones were made by humans at some point during the previous 230 years, but I’m still not giving up on it. Eligius 3 must have travelled longer to Skyring, if it is so far away from Earth and Sanctum, I don’t think that “Beta” meant that Skyring was the second stop of Eligius 3 - maybe the planets were graded by how good conditions they had for human life. Which would put Sanctum and Skyring at the top, but Sanctum was closer. And with all sorts of time shenanigans going around, maybe there’s some way that the Anomaly Stones could have been placed there by humans. I just can’t believe that it was really some alien race millions of years ago, especially with the Anomaly symbols looking like Greek letters, many of those used in physics or math, the gender symbols, and the infinity symbol is there, too.

This was one of the rare episodes of The 100 where no one died. Though we did learn about some people’s past deaths.

Rating: 9/10

#the 100 #the 100 7x02 #the garden #the 100 season 7 #octavia blake #charmaine diyoza #hope diyoza #gabriel santiago #octavia x diyoza #echo kom azgeda #bellamy blake #madi griffin

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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J.K Rowling & The Echo Chamber of TERFs: Why Nobody Wants your Transphobic “Opinion”

TW// Discussion of Sexual Assault and Transphobia

SO...

I’ve seen the term “allyship fatigue” going round a lot lately on Twitter, since the issues of police brutality, institutional racism, and now transphobia have taken central stage.

And it’s weird. To be honest, hearing other white cis people calling themselves “allies” has always sounded kinda self-congratulatory. Taking this to the level of martyrdom that the phrase “allyship fatigue” evokes makes me want to heave. It’s shit that anyone even has to be saying Black Lives STILL Matter, but it does seem to unfortunately be the case that every time there is a highly publicised murder of a black individual by police, the explosion of us white people calling ourselves allies and retweeting and reblogging statements of solidarity only lasts so long before half revert back to being complacent with and uncritical of a world seeped with casual racism. Is that what “allyship fatigue” is? The excuse for that? Not only does the term take the focus off of the marginalised group the movement is centred around but it makes supporting equal rights sound like some kind of heroic burden we’ve chosen to take on rather than addressing a debt we owe and being not even good but just plain decent human beings. WE are not the ones shouldering the weight here, and if your mental health is suffering, that is not the fault of the people asking for their rights. Log off. We have the privilege to do that. It just doesn’t need to be a spectacle.

At the same time, this public onslaught of ignorance and hatred that the coverage of the Black Lives Matter movement has triggered (that let me again emphasise, black people have had to involuntarily be on the receiving end of their whole lives) and the frustration and anger that comes from seeing these absolute trash takes from people with no research into the subject who build their argument purely on “what about”isms is do-I-even-want-to-bring-children-into-this-fucking-world levels of miserable. In terms of earth beginning to look more and more like the prequel describing the events which lead up to a dystopian novel, the chaos of the last 4 weeks or so (2020 has not only shattered the illusion of time but also danced on the shards, I know) is the tip of the iceberg. I saw a thread about what’s going on in Yemen at the moment, which I had no idea about, and immediately felt consumed by guilt that I didn’t know. With the advent of social media, there’s been this sudden evolutionary shift where we’re almost required and expected to know about, have an opinion on, and be empathetic with every humanitarian crisis at once. I think young people feel this especially, which is why I say that sometimes it’s worth talking to an older person before you brush them off as a racist or a homophobe and see if they’re open to hearing different opinions-in general, I think we’re a generation that is used to being expected to consume a huge amount of information at once. They are not. For a lot (NOT all) of the older, middle-class, white population, ignorance isn’t a conscious choice, it is the natural way of life. The parameters of empathy until very recently have only had to extend just past your closest circle of friends to encompass people you “relate to”. That doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of caring about other things, and sometimes we owe them a chance to change their perspective first, if for no reason other than to advance the cause of, well, basic human rights for all.

So where does J.K Rowling come into all this? I hear you ask. Why doesn’t she just stop rambling? You potentially wonder. Well, I’m getting to it.

J.K Rowling isn’t an unconsciously ignorant people. She is what I would call consciously ignorant. And of all weeks to flaunt this ignorance, she chose a time when people are already drowning in a cesspit of hatred. The woman whose whole book series supposedly revolves around the battle between good and evil didn’t even try to drain the swamp. She instead added a bucket of her transphobic vitriol into it.

Let me preface this by saying that I wouldn’t wipe my arse with the Sun. What they did with the statement she made regarding her previous abusive relationship, seeking out said abusive partner for an interview and putting it on the front page with the headline “I slapped J.K”, whilst expected from the bunch of cretinous bottom feeders who work there, is disgusting. That being said, the pattern of behaviour J.K Rowling has exhibited since she first became an online presence is equally disgusting, and just because the Sun have been their usual shithead selves, doesn’t mean we should forget the issue at hand, that issue being her ongoing transphobia and erasure of trans women from women’s rights.

As I’m sure is the case for many people on Tumblr, J.K Rowling has always been such a huge inspiration for me, and Harry Potter was my entire childhood. My obsession with it continued until I was at least 16 and is what got me through the very shit years of being a teenager, and that will forever be the case. I’m not here to discuss the whole separation of the art from the artist thing because whilst I ordinarily don’t think that’s really possible, at this point the “Harry Potter universe” has become much bigger than J.K herself. I was so pleased to see Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint all affirm their support for trans rights-I was raised on the films up until the 4th one which I wasn’t old enough to see at the cinema, and the DVD was at the top of my Christmas list. They were always my Harry, Hermione and Ron. It was only between the fourth and fifth films that I started to read the books to fill that gaping in-between-movies hole, but as I grew up, I read them over and over and over again. Any of the subtext that people are talking about now in light of her antisemitism and transphobia went completely over my head, though who knows, whilst I can sit here and write that I’m certain I didn’t, maybe I did pick up some unconscious biases along the way? The art/artist discussion is a complex one and I don’t know if I’ll ever read the books again at this point.

There was absolutely no subtext, however, in the “think piece” on J.K’s website addressing the response to her transphobic tweets. There wasn’t all that much to unpack in the first tirade, they were quite openly dismissive-first that womanhood is defined by whether or not one experiences menstruation (I currently don’t due to health issues but I’m betting this wouldn’t make me any less woman in her eyes), and second, regurgitating an article which furthers the fallacy that trans women simply existing erases the existence of cisgender lesbian women. Rowling’s initial response to the backlash was to blame it on a glass of red wine, I think? Which is such a weird go-to excuse for celebrities because not once have I ever got drunk and completely changed my belief system. If you’re not transphobic sober, you don’t suddenly become transphobic drunk. What you are saying is that you’re not usually publicly transphobic (which isn’t even the case with Rowling because this is hardly her first flirtation with bigotry via social media) but that whoopsies! You drank some wine and suddenly thought it was acceptable!

Now what is her excuse for the formal response she wrote to the backlash, dripping with transphobic dog whistles and straight up misinformation (UPDATE: and as of yesterday, blocking Stephen King quite literally for replying to her with the tweet “trans women are women”, in case you thought that this whole thing was a case of her intentions being misconstrued)? Drunk tweets are one thing but if she managed to write a whole fucking essay whilst pissed I imagine there’s a lot of university students out there who’d pay her good money to learn that skill.

Here is the bottom line. TRANS WOMEN ARE WOMEN. There is no discussion around that. And if you don’t understand why, at the very least, you can be respectful of the way a person chooses to identify, especially when that person is an already targeted minority.

Obviously, sex and gender are complex things. Based on the fact that we don’t walk around with our nether-regions out, we generally navigate our way through the world using our gender and the way we present our gender. Gender of course means many different things to many different people; some see it as a sliding scale kind of thing whereas some people can’t see themselves on the scale at all, and choose to use terms other than man or woman to express how they identify. But, whatever gender one chooses to identify as, we live in a modern world-with all the scientific advancements we’ve made and all that we now know about the brain, using what is between people’s legs to define them is an ignorant, outdated copout. You’ll find that a lot of transphobes can live in harmony with trans women who conform, who have classically feminine features, maybe facial feminisation surgery, trans women who keep quiet about how they’re seen by cis women and don’t kick up “too much of a fuss” (which is in itself still a perfectly valid, brave and understandable way to live your life after years of feeling like you don’t fit in btw). The trans women that Joanne and her friends take the most issue with is the ones who want to expand what womanhood means and stretch the boundaries of what is and isn’t acceptable, destroying the confines of simplistic model that TERFs feel comfortable operating within. The ones who fight to be recognised as no “lesser” than cis women. Calling a person a TERF is quite literally just asserting that they are someone who wants to exclude trans women from their definition of womanhood, or in other words wants to cling to the old, obsolete model. If J.K Rowling cannot let the statement “trans women are women” go unchallenged (which we’ve seen from her response to Stephen King’s tweet she cannot), then she is by definition a TERF. It’s not a slur. It’s a descriptor indicating the movement she has chosen to associate herself with. Associating the descriptor of the position you so vehemently refuse to denounce in spite of all evidence and information offered to you with the concept of a “witch hunt” when trans women are ACTUALLY brutally murdered for an innate part of their identity is insulting, at the very least.

Let’s get this straight: despite transphobes trying to conflate sex with gender and arguing that sex is the only “real” identifier of the two, our existence on this planet and our perception of this world is a gendered experience. It is our brain, where the majority of researchers agree that gender lies, which decides and dictates not only who we are and how we feel but also how we interact with everyone around us. I don’t think it’s an outlandish statement to say that when it comes to who we are as people, that flesh machine protected by our skull is the key player. PSA for transphobes everywhere: when people say penises have a mind of their own, they are NOT talking literally. The more you know.

Gender is obviously a much newer concept than sex-it is both influenced by and interacts with every element of our lives. It’s also much more complex, in that there are still many gaps in our understanding. I assume these two factors combined with the familiarity of the (usually) binary model of biological sex are a part of why TERFS fundamentally reject the importance of gender in favour of the latter. Yes, most of the time, we feel our gender corresponds with our sex, but not always, and nor is there any concrete proof that this has to be the case. Most studies tend to agree that our brains start out as blank slates, that we grow into the gender we are assigned based on our bodies. In other words, our sex only defines our gender insofar as the historical assumption that they are the same thing, which in turn exposes us to certain cultural expectations. To any TERFs that have somehow ended up here-if you haven’t already, I suggest looking into the research of Gina Rippon, a neuroscientist whom has spent a large portion of her professional career analysing the data of sex differences in the brain. Whilst she originally set out to find some kind of consistent variance between the brains of the 2 prominent sexes to back up the idea that the brains of men and women are inherently different, she found nothing of significance-individual differences, yes, but no consistent similarities in the brains of one sex that were not present in the other. Once differences in brain size were accounted for, “well-known” sex differences in key structures disappeared-in terms of proportion, these structures take up the same amount of space in the brain regardless of sex. Her findings are best summed up by her response to the question: are there any significant differences in the brain based on sex alone? Her answer is no. To suggest otherwise is “neurofoolishness”. Not only does her research help put to bed the myth that our brains are sexed along with the rest of our bodies during development (this is now believed to happen separately, meaning the sex of our bodies and brains may not correspond), but also the idea propagated by the patriarchy for centuries that basically boils down to “boys will be boys”-a myth used to condone male sexual violence against women and even against each other on the basis that it is inherent and “can't be helped”. That they are just “built differently”. Maybe at one point in human evolution, men were conditioned to fight and women were conditioned to protect, but whilst the idea remains and continues to affect our societal structures (and thus said cultural expectations), we’ve moved on. I mean we evolved from fish for fuck’s sake but you don’t see us breathing underwater.

Gender identity is based on many things and admittedly we don’t fully have the complete picture yet. The effects that socialisation and gender norms in particular, as much as we don’t want them to exist, have on our brain are huge; there’s evidence that they can leave epigenetic marks, or in other words cause structural changes in the brain which drive biological functions and features as diverse as memory, development and disease susceptibility. Socialisation alters the way our individual brains develop as we grow up, and as much as I’d love to see gender norms disappear, they’ll probably be around for a long time to come, as will their ramifications. The gap between explaining how socialisation affects the brain of cisgender individuals compared to the brains of transgender or non-binary individuals is not yet totally clear, but as with every supposed cause and effect psychology tries to uncover, there are outliers and individual differences. No, brains are not inherently male or female at birth but they are all different, and can be affected by socialisation differently. In one particularly groundbreaking study conducted by Dick Swaab of the Netherlands Institute for Neuroscience, postmortems of the brains of transgender women revealed that the structure of one of the areas in the brain most important to sexual behaviour more closely resembled the postmortem brains of cisgender women than those of cisgender men-it’s also important that these differences did not appear to be attributable to the influence of endogenous sex hormone fluctuations or hormone treatment in adulthood.

Maybe dysphoria is something that evolves organically and environmental factors don’t even come into it. Like I said, we don’t have the whole picture. What we DO know is that for some people, as soon as they become self-aware, that dysphoria is there, and the evidence for THAT, for there being common variations between the brains of cisgender individuals and transgender individuals, is overwhelming. You can be trapped in a body that does not correspond with how your brain functions, or how you wish to see yourself. Do individuals like J.K Rowling really believe it is ethical to reinforce the idea that we are defined by our sex and that our sex should decide the course of our lives, should decide how we are treated? That we should reduce people to genitals and chromosomes when our gender, the lens through which we see and interact with the world, could be completely different? Do they not see anything wrong with perpetuating the feelings of “otherness” and dysphoria in trans individuals that results from society’s refusal to see them as anything more than what body parts they have? In a collaboration between UCLA MA neuroscience student Jonathan Vanhoecke and Ivanka Savic at the Karolinska Institute in Sweden, the statistics collected pointed to what trans activists have always been trying to get at-the areas of the brain responsible for our sense of our identity showed far more neural activity in the brains of trans individuals when they were looking at depictions of their body that had been changed to match their gender identity than when this wasn’t the case; when they saw themselves with a body that corresponded with their gender identity, when they were “valid” by society’s definition, they felt more themselves. When J.K Rowling tells trans people that their “real identity” is the sex they were born with, she is denying them this right to be themselves and due to her large platform, encouraging others to do the same. YOU are doing that, J.K. And who knows why? Where does your transphobia come from? Peel back the bullshit layers of waffle about feeling silenced and threatened, which you know you are directing at the wrong group of people, and admit it’s for less noble reasons. Taking the time to unlearn the instinct embedded into your generation to see people according to the cultural status quo of biological determinism is effort, I know-but you wrote a 700+ page book. I’m sure you can manage it. Or is it an ego thing? You don’t want to admit that you may have been uneducated on gender and sex in the past, and now have to stick by your reductive position so your image as an “intellectual” isn’t compromised. I don’t know. Only you do. But your position is irresponsible and dangerous either way. You can make up bullshit reasons as to why the link between trans individuals and the incidence of suicide attempts and completions isn’t relevant or representative of the struggle that trans people face due to the hatred that people like you propagate but it is there, and you J.K Rowling, someone who has spoken in the past about the horror of depression, should know better. You should know better than to CLAIM you know better than the experienced researchers who have found the same pattern time and time again-that the likelihood of trans individuals committing suicide is significantly higher than that of cis people.

No, Rowling’s transphobia has never been as upfront as saying “I don’t believe transgender people exist” but she continues to imply that when she makes claims such as womanhood being defined by whether or not one experiences menstruation, and the completely subjective concept of whether an individual has faced sex-based violence from cisgender men. I’m sure she’d be out here taking chromosome proof cards like Oysters if it wasn’t for intersex individuals throwing her whole binary jam into a tailspin. Yep, there’s even suggestions that the binary biological model might not be so binary these days-just because two people have, say, XY chromosomes, does not mean that these chromosomes are genetically identical between individuals-the genes they carry can, and do, vary and so their actions and expressions of sex vary.

Ideally, what TERFs want to do with their language of “real womanhood” is create an exclusive club that trans women are left out of when they too suffer under the same patriarchal society that those who are born female do. Yes, they might not experience ALL the issues a person born with female genitalia do, but no two women’s life experiences are the same anyway. Trans women also have their own horrible experiences with the patriarchy, and are often victims of a specific kind of gendered violence that is purported by the idea of “real womanhood”. Don’t throw trans sisters under the bus because you’re angry about your experience as a woman on this planet-direct your anger at the fucking bus. Don’t claim that “many trans people regret their decision to transition” when the statistics overwhelmingly show that this is the EXACT FUCKING OPPOSITE of the truth (according to British charity organisation Mermaids, surgical regret is proportionately very low amongst gender affirmation outpatients and research suggesting otherwise has been broadly disproven) because you’ve spoken to a selective group of trans individuals probably handpicked by the TERFS you associate with to confirm their biases, and then have the nerve to claim that trans-activists live in echo chambers on top of that. Don’t use anecdotes and one-off incidences where “trans women” (I say trans women in quotation marks because we’re pretty much talking about a completely statistically insignificant group of perverted cis men who have, according to TERFs, somehow come to the conclusion that going through transition will make their already easy-to-get-away-with hobby of assaulting women even...easier to get away with?) have committed sexual crimes to demonise and paint as predatory group who are largely at risk and in 99.9% of situations, the ones being preyed on. It’s a point so disgusting that trans activists shouldn’t even have to respond to it, but the idea that an individual would go to the pains of legally changing their gender and potentially the hell of the harassment that trans people face, the multiple year long NHS waiting lists to see specialist doctors, just so that they can gain access to women only spaces is ridiculous. It’s worth noting here just how sinister you repeatedly bringing up this phantom threat of cis men becoming trans women in order to assault women in “women only” spaces is. The implication here is that they should use the toilet corresponding to the sex they were born as, right? Because it’s all about safety? Well, statistically speaking, far more trans women are abused whilst having to use men’s toilets than when they use women’s ones and the same goes for trans men, and yet you don’t mention it once. Your suggestion also puts people born female who identify as women but maybe do not dress or present in a typically feminine way at risk of being ostracised when THEY need to use the women’s bathroom. The idea that by ceasing to uphold values like yours we are putting women at risk is quite simply, unsubstantiated; the legislation to allow individuals to use the bathroom corresponding to whichever gender they legally identify as has been around since 2010 in the UK and yet we’ve yet to see the sudden spike in the number of women being assaulted in bathrooms you imply will exist if we create looser rules around gender identity and let people use whichever toilet they feel the need to. Similarly, in a study of US school districts, Media Matters found that 17 around the country with protections for trans people, which collectively cover more than 600,000 students, had no problems with harassment in bathrooms or locker rooms after implementing their policies. If cis men want to assault women, they will. They don’t need to pretend to be trans to do so. Don’t pretend to be speaking as a concerned ally of LGBTQ+ individuals when you’re ignoring the thoughts of the majority of individuals who come under that category.

(Just Some of the Trans Women Murdered for Being Trans Over the Last Couple of Years, L-R: Serena Valzquez, Riah Milton, Bee Love Slater, Naomi Hersi, Layla Pelaez, and Dominique Fells)

Trans women are not the threat here. Bigots like you are the threat. HOW DARE you use your platform to reinforce this rhetoric that gets trans people killed when there are so many much MUCH more important things going on right now. Two black trans women had been murdered just for being black trans women in the week you wrote your essay defending those initial tweets. This is an ongoing issue. As a cis woman, my opinion should read as sacred texts to you right, Joanne? Because I’ll say with my whole chest that I feel far more threatened by bigots like you who do not care for the harmful impact of their words than I do by trans women. I do not feel threatened by trans women AT ALL. And yeah, to me, unless they tell me otherwise that they like to go out their way to affirm their trans-ness (which I completely respect-it takes a lot of courage to be proud about your past in a world that condemns you for it), they’re just WOMEN like any other. Yes their experience of “womanhood” may be different to mine but no two individuals experiences are the same anyway and our gender related suffering has the same cause. As a rich, white, cis woman, it’s wild that you are painting yourself as the victim in this debate when trans people can face life in prison and in some places a death sentence for openly identifying with a gender different to their sex in a lot of countries. Nobody is saying that you can’t talk about cis women. Nobody is saying you can’t talk about lesbian issues either, though it’s a bit of a piss-take that you like to throw that whole trans women erase lesbian existence argument out there as a kind of trump card to say “look, I can’t be a transphobe, I’m an LGBTQ+ ally!”, an argument akin to the racist’s age old “I can’t be racist, I have black friends!”. You know from the responses you get to your transphobia that majority of the LGBTQ+ community are very much adamant that trans women are “real women” and that the same goes for trans men being “real men”, so don’t claim to speak for them. You cannot simultaneously care about LGBTQ+ rights and deny trans people their right to live as who they are, however veiled your sentiments around that may be. The whole gay rights movement of the 60s and 70s exist partially BECAUSE of black trans women such as Martha P Johnson if you didn’t know, and though it’s kinda common knowledge I’m doubting that you do because very little of what you tout is backed up by any kind of research. The articles you retweet, echoing the views of lesbians who also happen to be TERFs do not count-the idea that trans people existing simultaneously erases the existence of lesbians only applies to individuals such as yourself who don’t see trans women as women in the first place. That is the problem! Most people don’t have an issue with the fact that you may have a preference for certain genitalia, but I would argue that ignoring exceptional circumstances related to trauma or some other complex issue, relationships are supposed to be with the person as a whole, not their “organic” penis or vagina and it’s kind of insulting to anyone in a same sex relationship to reduce their bond to that.

Back to my point though, of course there are issues that cis women and lesbians face that need talking about, but trans people are affected by the same patriarchal system. You don’t need to go out of your way to mention that they’re not included in whichever given specific issue when there are also cis women who may not have experienced some of the things TERFs reference. You especially don’t need to act as if trans women are the reason we need to have these discussions in the first place. As I’ve said, as MANY women have said, repeatedly-they are NOT the threat here. It is disgusting to see someone I once had so much admiration for constantly punch down at a group that is already marginalised. It’s 2020, J.K, there’s so much info out there. YOU’RE A FULLY GROWN WOMAN. There’s no justification. We get it, you had a tomboy phase. You weren’t like “other girls”. You didn’t like living under a patriarchal system. So you think you understand the mindset of people who want to transition. You think you’re not doing anything wrong by helping to slow the advancement of trans rights because well, you turned out fine? But you clearly fundamentally misunderstand what being trans is. It’s not about your likes and dislikes and having issues with the experience of being a woman (god knows we all do but I doubt anyone truly thinks for one moment that being trans would be any easier), it’s about how you think and feel at your core. It’s such a complex issue, and all the majority of trans people are asking you to do is LISTEN to them. You may be determined to live in binaries, yet the bigger picture is always more complex and fluid and it’s ever-changing, so all we can do is keep an open mind and keep wanting to know more and gather more evidence. If you’re capable of the mental gymnastics required to retcon the piece of work you wrote in the 90s to make it seem as if you were “ahead of the diversity game”, to the extent that you are now claiming Voldermort’s snake has always actually been a Korean woman and see nothing wrong with that when paired with the fact that the only Asian character you originally included was called Cho Chang, then well…I’m sure you can put your ego aside and do the groundwork to understand what trans people are trying to tell you too. You inspired a lot of children and teenagers and even adults, and got them through some very difficult times, taught that the strength of one’s character matters far more than what anyone thinks of you. You claimed you wanted to stand up for the outcasts.

Well, stand up for the outcasts. Now’s a better time than any. And once again: TRANS WOMEN ARE WOMEN AND TRANS MEN ARE MEN. They shouldn’t have to hear anything else.

Lauren x

[DISCLAIMER: shitty collages are mine but the background is not, let me know if you are aware of the artist so I can credit!]

#transisbeautiful #trans pride #trans lives matter #blm #black lives matter #jk rowling #trans rights #gender identity #gender studies #trans women are women #politics #socialism #safe space #all are welcome

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imagine-loki · 4 years

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Atlas: Space, Moon

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 5/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Chapter 5: Moon

Summary: Hell hath no wrath like an out-of-the-loop Tony. Are you ready for this to get kinda soft? Because it gets kinda soft. (Happens previous to Taking Turns.)

Warnings include: Language. Loki wishing heat-stroke had taken him, soft and vulnerable frost giant fluff, and two idiots who just need to fucking kiss already.

[Instrumental track-really good reading music, btw]

Loki groaned pitifully as he awoke. His whole body felt like it had been dipped in lead and tossed to the bottom of the deepest ocean where he fell into an ever-deepening trench. Except he wasn’t dipped in anything. He wasn’t in the ocean. He was in the Med Bay, after, most likely, being pulled out of the mission, and, after the humiliation of passing out, he just wished he was drowning.

He tried moving his fingers first, opening and closing his fists tentatively to gauge the ache. He found the dull throb a reminder that he was, indeed, an idiot. His skin looked pale–well, paler than usual–and several lines seemed to have been placed directly into his veins with fluids. He wondered how Banner had even managed to get the needles to pierce his skin, but that was neither here nor there.

A noise of pages turning beside him, rustled. Loki bargained with the universe to end his miserable existence now, rather than have to face the person he knew was occupying the chair beside his bed. The universe denied his plea, as it always did. He wondered why he even bothered asking, anymore.

Becca looked about as tired as he felt. Though her hair was tied up in a sleek braid that was draped over her shoulder, and her clothes looked fresh and kempt, her eyes had dark bags beneath them. They were also rimmed in red. She had been crying. Surely it had not been over him, had it? With a groan, he sat up.

“Welcome back.” Her voice was soft, though hoarse and her face was littered in small, half-healed cuts. He must not have been asleep for too long. He was almost hesitant to break the calm quietness of the moment, though that was quickly solved.

The sound of Bruce repeating Tony’s name in a plea echoed in the empty medical facility. A second later Tony, red in the face, was in front of Loki’s cot, pointer finger gesturing the Prince.

“Do you have any idea how fucked we could have been because of your little stunt?” Loki had the good sense to look down in shame, hair forming a dark curtain around his face to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “If Becca hadn’t been in position to get to you, we’d be retrieving your corpse right around now. Do you understand that, Loki? Dead! You would survived every other fucking thing the Universe had thrown at you and you would’ve bowed out because of fucking heat stroke!”

He growled, seemingly no longer capable of speech and knocked over a tray, making both Becca and Loki start.

“I had to pull Thor from his assignment because I had no idea if he was going to pass out, too. We had to scramble the whole roster to finish the mission because you weren’t bothered to tap out when you reached your limit! We nearly fucked this whole op because of you. You are in such deep shit, Mischief. I swear to God!”

With that sentiment hanging in the air, Tony turned tail and stomped his way out of the hospital room.

Loki turned to Becca, his eyes looked pained as he took her in. “I’m so–” She raised a finger, wordlessly telling him to hold his thought before she pointed back at the Med Bay entrance where Tony was rushing back in. She seemed almost amused by the man’s predictability. In reality, she was just used to seeing this song and dance routine being done with Peter.

“A frost giant in 110 plus degree heat? Really? You should have told us, Loki!” He roared and Loki stilled as his blood ran as cold as his species name. “You should have told us the second you started working here. Let me be clear. I don’t give a shit what the hell you are. You can be an ice giant, a fae princess or a goddamn opossum–you don’t keep that from us!” He raked his hair frustratedly, trying to swallow the rest of his yelling and barely succeeding. “I would have given you a different beat on mission. I would have given you both a different beat.” Loki opened his mouth to protest, but was promptly cut off. “Do you think I don’t know you went on that mission because of Becks? What kind of a moron do you take me for?”

“Not a damn word, Loki,” Becca warned, smirking. “This is not the moment to be clever.” Loki pressed his mouth to a thin line, glaring shortly at the woman for denying him his only defense mechanism at present.

Tony rolled right through the joke, too keyed up to be amused. “You are grounded, do you hear me? Grounded! No more missions until I decide that you’ve learned your damn lesson. No more leaving the compound for pizza in the city. No special passes to Asgard. Completely grounded. Am I understood?”

Loki surprised himself by nodding effusively to the demands, back pressed against the headboard as though he intended to meld into the wall behind him. Tony stomped back out, muttering out loud about idiots who were going to give him a heart attack. Loki glanced back at Becca, who was sitting crisscross, book abandoned on the portion of her thighs left bare by her shorts. In the scratchy paper gown Loki felt entirely out-of-place in her presence. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to want to leave.

Despite her neutral expression, he could see something akin to hurt lurking behind her eyes. “I didn’t tell–”

“It’s fine,” Becca cut in, waving him off. “It was none of my business. I get it.” She sniffed delicately, her eyes dropping to the checkered floor of the hospital as if it help some great secret.

“Rebecca…”

She glanced up and unwound her legs, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “I’m glad you’re OK.”

When she made to leave, Loki wrapped his fingers around her wrist and held her still. “It wasn’t because of you or because I didn’t trust you.”

The woman looked like she debated not arguing but thought better of it at the last moment, letting the frustration pour out of her every pore. “That doesn’t change the fact that I was the one who watched you almost die without knowing the reason.”

“I didn’t want it to change how you saw me,” he explained for reasons he could not comprehend.

Becca scoffed, leaning down to get eye level with him. He could feel her breath on his face and at any other point in time, he would have celebrated being in this position. Something in the back of his head told him he shouldn’t cheer this time around. “Literally no one gave a shit what you looked like as we dragged your giant-ass, blue body onto the jet. We only prayed you wouldn’t die before we hit ally airspace, you fucking moron,” she explained slowly, voice trembling and eyes watering. “We work with a bioengineered, sentient gem–you’re not that fucking special.”

Loki swallowed thickly, suddenly terrified of the burning rage reflected in her warm eyes. It was bright, beaming, smoldering fear that fueled it. Fear that she would lose him before they managed to land somewhere that might have been safe to intervene on him. Fear that she would lose a colleague, a friend. Fear that she would never make him pay for keeping her in the dark for so long. Loki felt every last bit of that fear, magnified tenfold to become his own.

He leaned his forehead onto her clasped hand. “I didn’t want you to know who I really was and chance scaring you off.”

“Are you dumb or what?” She snapped, gritting her teeth in an effort to contain her tears. “Why would I judge you over something you have no control over? After all we’ve done? All we’ve lived? I thought I showed you who I was a little better than that.”

“It wasn’t about you–”

“Evidently it was or you wouldn’t care if I saw!” She snapped before sighing, brushing his tangled hair back with her free hand. “You worried me a hell of a lot.” There was so much held back in her voice, he could tell, but he was not about to try his luck and pressure her into revealing her secrets.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca.” Loki had never apologized for a damn thing in his life, but he couldn’t help but let the words slip now, as she watched him with worry in her eyes and hurt in her soul.

“Scoot over, Evil Smurf,” she teased softly, and the words landed as painfully as if she had called him my love. He wanted this. He wanted this playful pain, but he couldn’t reason to himself why.

Swallowing a groan, he shifted over in the hospital cot. Becca clambered in easily and draped her arm around his shoulders, feeling him tense momentarily. After a second, the warmth of her digits seeped into his skin, and he melted into her side. When he let out a small sad whine, she pressed a kiss to his temple and allowed him to hide his face into the crook of her neck. Whether their silent agreement to shelve their discussion was due to shock of their mutual vulnerability or pure exhaustion, it was unsure. They merely accepted the conditions and sat tangled up, with only the sound of their breathing.

That’s how Bruce found them, asleep, an hour later when he went in to change Loki’s IV bag.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Others #Submitted fic #submission #atlas space #moon #chapter 5 #Fanfictrashdump

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big-bad-ulf · 4 years

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The Prodigal Wolf Returns || Ulfric & Winn

Timing: Midday, Thursday 4th of June Parties: @packsbeforesnacks, @big-bad-ulf Summary: Ulfric meets with Winn to discuss what drove him out of town, and consider their next moves. Warnings: Mentions of assisted suicide, depression, and grief.

The clearing in the woods was quiet, remote, and neutral. Somewhere they could both feel at home, but that neither could claim ownership of. Hearing footsteps approaching, Ulfric dropped the cigarette stub between his fingers, stamping it out into the leaf litter below to conceal most of the evidence of the bad habit he’d picked up again after Celeste’s passing, though the smoke still lingered accusingly. “I suppose thanks are in order, for coming all the way out here,” he greeted Winn stoically, before finally turning to face the returned wolf. “As you’re aware, I’m not the one who you need to explain your actions to.” He hoped it was apparent he meant Layla and Ariana, but the young man didn’t have the best track record thinking things through to their logical conclusion. “But I’d like one, because as it stands I can’t imagine a scenario in which ‘sparring’ with a tiny human girl while in wolf form was necessary? Nor was fleeing town when you knew others of your kind were in danger.” The older werewolf’s tone was tired, weighed down by the collective suffering of White Crest’s pack over the last few weeks, but an anger borne of disappointment simmered beneath the weariness.

Winn had been dreadin’ this conversation since he’d figured out everyone thought he’d skipped town. Ulfric was… intimidating, to say the absolute least. Winn could handle teenagers. He could handle folks in his own (relative) age group. And Simon was, well, kind, in a way that he wasn’t sure Ulfric was. But part of the problem was that he didn’t know Ulfric. Didn’t know most of the wolves, really, all friendliness aside. So, worst-case scenario, Ulfirc hated him. Best case scenario, Ulfric thought he was an idiot. As he entered the clearing, smoke tickled his nose. The Full Moon was on them and Winn was pretty sure he’d have smelled it even if Ulfric hadn’t just been smoking, but he stowed the frown. It wasn’t his place to judge someone’s habits; he’d had bad habits of his own. Still had some. “I appreciate it,” Winn said, “but it’s unnecessary. I should thank you, for bein’ willing to hear me out.” He leaned against a tree, scrubbing at his eyes. Reconciling with his father and (part of) his former pack hadn’t helped his sleep, much as he wanted it to and, with Natalia out of town, he was running low on aram. “Talked to both of them. Only one left that knew, I think, is you.”

He weighed what he knew about Blanche in his mind, what he knew about Ulfric, and his newfound fondness for the truth. “Blanche is… like a sister, to me. She’s a trouble magnet. If there’s supernatural nonsense goin’ on in White Crest, I head her way. ‘Cause chances are, if she isn’t already involved, she will be in, like, an hour. I know it was stupid, thought I had better control than I did. After I got a hold of myself, I dipped, for just a few minutes. Came back, told Blanche that I was leavin’ to take care of some things, left a note somewhere I thought she’d find it. Phone had been dead before that, and I figured if she told folks I was gone, they’d know that I’d be back soon and couldn’t really make a twelve-hour drive shorter.” Winn sighed. “That’s usually the part of the story where folks have questions, so hit me. Oh, right. Social media. A shirtless photo of mine got flagged and, since I didn’t have my phone, I couldn’t contest the deactivation. That one was just coincidence. Lady Luck wasn’t in my favor.”

“It was stupid,” Ulfric confirmed when Winn was through with his explanation. He crossed his arms and paced in a tight, restless pattern as he weighed the other wolf’s actions, to decide what needed asking. It wasn’t like he could pass any judgment in an official sense, it would be up to Layla and Ariana and any of the other wolves who felt slighted to decide for themselves how they felt and how they wanted to interact with him on a personal level. But as a more experienced wolf, he felt obligated to address the aspects of Winn’s behavior that had the potential to harm the entire pack, or even their entire species. “I understand this girl means something to you, but we don’t need to be teaching more humans how to fight us.” Not that it was likely a human of average strength would stand much of a chance, even with whatever ‘mind powers’ Blanche supposedly possessed, but that was beside the point, their weaknesses were meant to stay between them. “Learning that would only help her against our kind, and if you’re worried any one of us is a threat to her that’s something that can be dealt with internally… It’s the fact you don’t seem to know your limits that troubles me most, though.”

Ulfric stopped and stood his ground as he came to that conclusion, looking over Winn appraisingly as he remembered the young wolf bragging about having killed a hunter. He’d chalked it up to mostly harmless arrogance at the time, but when he later explained he hadn’t done it on purpose that should’ve raised more red flags than it had. “You don’t seem like you’re that new to this. You should have a better grasp of how much control you do or don’t have. So, I suppose my questions are, do you know what pushed you over the edge? What do you plan to do to ensure this doesn’t happen again?”

Winn tried not to bristle at the half-accusation, pushing himself off the tree and walking towards Ulfric as, hopefully, non-threateningly as possible. “With all due respect, I never said that I was trainin’ her to take out wolves,” he said. And he hadn’t been! Werewolves were just big and so were, what, half of the things B would run into? “She only knows the bare minimum, assumin’ she hasn’t talked to Kaden ‘bout his other job. Ain’t hard for a human to try silver, given only every story about us tends to revolve ‘round that fact.” He took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. “But we can argue ‘bout Blanche later, it’s not like I’ll be sparrin’ with her in wolf form again.”

“It worries me, too. ‘Cause I’ve…” he paused, looking up into the canopy to choose his words carefully. “Let me backtrack. You don’t know much about me, and it might be… helpful. Since you’re the wolf ‘round here with the most experience…” Now, Winn was pacing. “I was turned almost eight years ago. The only turned wolf in a pack of, uh, werewolf fraternity brothers, down south. They guided me through my first dozen shifts, taught me how to be calm. So, believe me when I say: I have plenty of control, ‘specially for not havin’ been a wolf all my life. And don’t get your britches in a bunch, I know that sounds like bullshit, right now.” Winn ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with the conclusions he was beginning to draw about his time ‘changed.’ “I said I accidentally killed a Hunter… well, that was half-true. The accident was my own — I was sleepin’ with a Hunter, didn’t know he was a Hunter. The killing was on purpose. Self-defense, when he abused my trust, tried to go after my pack.

“After that, I was in… a dark place. That would’a been late 2015. Next thing I remember, I was in Europe, staggering in my human form out of the woods in early 2018. Thought, until recently, I’d spent a year or two in and out of my wolf form… but, I’m startin’ to question that. Couple theories’ve been tossed around, maybe it isn’t true. But when I… attacked B, it felt different. On a Moon, when I let the wolf come to the forefront… even when I was tryin’ to keep us separate, I still knew what was goin’ on. But with B, I don’t remember anything between getting thrown into a tree and pullin’ myself back from the brink. It was, well, dissociative is maybe the closest way to say it. I was there, and then I wasn’t. I’ve never lost control like that. Not even, y’know, when I was still new at this. It’s… it’s like hittin’ that tree pulled something out of me, something from under my conscious. I— Have you ever heard of anything like that? Where a wolf just… wasn’t himself, or even his wolf self? Even if it had been, say, Ariana, I don’t think it would’ve changed it. I still think that… part of me would want to attack everything.”

“There’s no need for that if you’re not going to do it again.” Ulfric agreed with Winn’s statement about Blanche. Truthfully, he did not want to be having this argument in the first place. A good old-fashioned brawl could be cathartic but having to play the role of stern lecturer just made feel weary, worn-out, and old. Running wild together, celebrating a successful hunt, sharing tales of old legends and recent exploits, those were the things he’d looked forward to about being a part of a pack again. Having to step up and confront things that put them in jeopardy was a responsibility that came with that privilege, but not one he enjoyed or hoped to have to take up often.

The older werewolf couldn’t contain a small grimace of disgust upon hearing Winn’s story. The chance that they might be a hunter was one of the many reasons it was a bad idea to get involved that way with humans, but he didn’t bother to voice his opinion on that. The man was an adult capable of making his own choices and he’d also spent a lot of his life as a human, so it was easy to see where that mistake had come from. Besides, it seemed he’d more than learned his lesson on that front.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to come back from a betrayal like that.” Ulfric replied at last, because the tale was tragic, if difficult for him to relate to on a personal level. “I haven’t heard of wolves entering an abnormal state like that,” Of course, his own ‘wolf self’ was similar in some ways to what Winn had described, an entirely animalistic being, but even then it retained the animal instinct not to attack its own kind without severe provocation and the risk of that side of himself emerging outside of a full moon was very low. “It seems the answers may lie in what happened in those lost years. What are the theories?” Staying transformed for the better part of years… Was such a thing truly possible? Ulfric could’ve almost been jealous of Winn for having that freedom from morals and responsibilities of the human world for so long, if the suffering it was causing him now wasn’t so apparent.

“Have you tried… it could be possible, or so I’ve heard, to bring some memories back through mystical means.” He suggested hesitantly. “I don’t like getting involved with such things, but you can’t just… go on the way you are, not without having to isolate yourself.” And that was the last thing he wanted for any of his kind, regardless of whether he held them in high regard or not. “If something were to bring on this feral state in front of a crowd that would mean disaster for all of us. And I’m sure you know that,” He leveled the younger wolf with a hard-nosed look. “Even if some of your actions suggest a distinct lack of judgment of the more mundane variety.”

“I— Thanks.” Winn frowned, stopping his pacing as Ulfric spoke. “I have a… friend, who looked into some, uh, wolf causes. Didn’t find much, some reports of wolves stayin’ transformed who went… feral, who couldn’t change back into their human form.” What Rio had told him had scared him, but it hadn’t felt, well… correct. It seemed like even those wolves had the sense to not attack other wolves, that they retained some of their humanity, even if they became more animal than human. ‘Course, many of them didn’t live to tell their tale, and the records that Rio had found could only tell them so much. Some had been written by Hunters, others written by a wolf who had to put one of his own down. But Winn had come back, which seemed to be the wrinkle. No Hunter had ever tried to bring a wolf back to themselves, but not even a packmate could. So, if Winn had been transformed, how could he have come back?

“Given I’m back, though, my friend and I ruled that out. ‘Specially for a bitten wolf to come back from bein’ feral? Seemed unlikely. Not when there was another explanation. Which is, um…” Alright, okay. He could admit this aloud. “My dad is a huxian. He thinks it might be mystical, yeah. Somethin’ taken from me, or somethin’ I gave up.”

He swallowed, mouth dry. “I’m still tryin’ other avenues. R— My friend is lookin’ into… side-effects of wolfsbane. What shit street wolfsbane might get spiked with. I—” Winn scratched at his arms, almost wishin’ that he was wearin’ a shirt. “I took wolfsbane for months, after I killed that Hunter. Blamed myself for what happened to the pack. And I guess I… stopped.” He looked up into the canopy. “But you’re right. I need to figure out my shit, so I don’t put us all at risk. And, short of goin’ back on the wolfsbane — which I’m not gonna do — we really don’t have any leads. If there’s… a part of me, that’s missin’, then I don’t want to go on like this. I can’t. Even if…” Well, there was always this part. Winn looked back down at Ulfric, mouth set in a hard line. “Don’t… I don’t want your pity. This isn’t y’all’s problem, but there’s… well, if I’m missin’ two years, there’s a chance that…” He coughed.

“There’s this Hunter I know. Luke mentioned him at the meeting. He… If I did somethin’ bad, hurt an innocent life, he’s the one I trust to… put an end to me. But I don’t want him knowin’ about what happened with B, and— I don’t know what could happen, if I get those memories back. No one I’ve talked to so far does. But if he’s… if I’m different, if I try to hurt someone, I need y’all to be willin’ to stop me. If that happens… As the person I am now, I want you… to take me down. If you can’t kill me, let me rot. If I can’t control myself, I am… I am not more important than all of you.” His voice was hoarse, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t remember crying this much in a very long time, but he needed to be firm. “Promise me. Please. I’m sorry, so sorry, to put that burden on you.” He held out his hand, for the other wolf to take, to seal the pact. “But it has to be done.”

As Winn’s explanation continued, it became more and more clear to Ulfric that his actions couldn’t be explained away by stupidity or cowardice. That was a shame really, both of those causes would’ve been much easier to deal with than this mystery of missing memory. Everything Winn said seemed to introduce a new piece to the puzzle (Huxians, wolfsbane, and of course, the seemingly inescapable interference of hunters), but it was unclear how they whole fit together or how much of a threat would be revealed when the big picture came together. When the young wolf came to the end of his speech and what he was asking him to do sunk in, Ulfric’s blood ran cold. Protecting the pack was paramount, but the thought of killing another wolf was profane, it would be the ultimate sacrilege towards the gift his ancestors had bestowed upon him.

“I’m not going to sit idly by and let you harm other members of the pack, of that you can be certain,” he answered carefully, considering his options. If Winn were to slip into a permanent state of mindless, unbridled aggression, the usual ‘last resort’ of exile would do little to keep him from returning and causing havoc in their territory. Caging was another possibility, but he knew if their circumstances were reversed, he’d prefer a quick death over a life spent in chains, and it seemed the young man would as well. And finally, allowing hunters to deal with him in that state would only further inflame their hatred towards his kind, along with being plain undignified. “If your continued existence poses a threat to their survival, I promise you, I’ll do what needs to be done.” Ulfric accepted after a long moment’s deliberation, giving Winn’s hand a firm, resolute shake, though the clamminess of his palm betrayed his instinctual, visceral reaction against the plan. “Let’s not let it come to that though,” He added, more of an instruction than a hope. “I’ve had my fill of death for the time being.”

““Thank you,” Winn said, quietly. “But… Agreed. Don’t want it to come to that.” It wasn’t that Winn hadn’t considered his death before. Hell, after what had happened with his old pack, there had been times where he’d… well, where he’d really considered dying. Winn liked to think he was better, now. If not totally well-adjusted, at least pretty solid on the ‘me dying wouldn’t fix the issue’ mantra. Counseling helped that, and learning about counseling only reinforced it. Which is part of why he knew: “I need those memories back, though. Even if it hurts, or if there’s… a reason I buried them. Now that I know they might not be there, it’s like… it’s like I can feel the space where they used to be. They’re a blindspot, sure, but more than that they’re… part of me. I can’t…” He sighed, sitting down on the forest floor and breathing in the woods for a moment before continuing. “As I am now, I can’t imagine what reason I could have had to bury them or… take them? I don’t know anybody who’d have the answers. Plus, there’s all the shit with Luke, and what happened with Ari, and… Fuck, man, I haven’t even asked you how you’re doing. I… I mean, I didn’t know Celeste, but I talked to Ari some, and… I know it’s a cheap question, but are you okay, Ulfric?”

“I think I can understand that. Why you’d want them back.” Ulfric assured him. He was familiar with having gaps in his memory, though he’d never had much choice in the matter. Berserkers had lost the ability to remember most of their actions while transformed centuries ago, and their intentions behind that, if there were any, were shrouded in mystery and myth. He did have a choice, though, between taking the easy way out and walking away from the carnage he’d caused while in wolf form and reconstructing what happened during that time as best he could. Ever since his ill-thought-out vengeance against the hunters who took his younger siblings, he’d chosen to do the latter. Chosen to look at the carnage and accept why it had happened, and that it was a part of him.

“What we do is what we are,” he pondered aloud, before directing his attention back on Winn more fully. “I respect your choice and wish you luck. You can count on me for… whatever it is you think I can provide.” Which wasn’t much, given his lack of expertise in the realm of the magical. He couldn’t even truthfully say he’d provide friendly support, because he was still too wary of the young wolf and the potential danger he posed to the pack as a whole to consider him a friend. An alliance was clearly in both their best interests though, so Ulfric refrained from repeating his earlier comments about not wanting any help from him when he asked how he was. “I’ll survive, so will you,” he stated simply and firmly instead, almost ordering the fates to make it so. “Any other option doesn’t bear thinking about.” The older wolf turned briskly and took off into the trees. Action was required of both of them, if the White Crest pack was ever going to be able to consider itself safe. They could spare no more time for conjecture and contemplation.

#chatzy #winn #the prodigal wolf returns #wickedswriting #suicide tw

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