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lisafication · 6 months

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This post is uh, extremely normal I swear

So hello yes I am absolutely On My Bullshit regarding my new favourite game.

That’s right, it’s the cannibal incest game, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. And I’m here to shove five thousand words of pretentious analysis down your throat because, and I do not exaggerate, I think it is one of, if not the best written game I have ever played. And I have played a lot of games, including Baldur’s Gate 3, Final Fantasy XIV and Undertale, to name a few narrative luminaries to come to mind.

That wordcount is not an exaggeration. My brainworms are extremely powerful and now you can share them with me as I walk you through my insane skyscraper of inference-driven analysis.

Or you can click away. I really wouldn’t blame you, it’s quite a lot.

Content Warnings: …Yes?

(To drop the bit for a moment, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley covers extremely disturbing material and challenges you to examine aspects of living in this world that many have taken for granted all their life, it is not a comfortable game, this will cover similar topics and will often echo the game’s unremitting scepticism on basic principles of society and humanity and you should look after yourself first. My Content Warning is framed as a joke, but it’s also quite real in that the game is designed to make you uncomfortable and there’s no shame in that not being for you.)

This was originally posted on and formatted for Sufficient Velocity, and you can probably more easily read and discuss it with me here.

With that said, let’s dig in. I have had to split this into multiple posts because tumblr will only allow so many images. There will be spoilers for all endings.

She’s excited, are you?

It’s All About Ashley

It really is, isn’t it? I mean, for approximately eighty percent of the total game as currently released and the entirety of Episode 1, you’re in control of Ashley, just as she’s in control of her and Andrew’s relationship for 80% of the game, up until the various ending sequences where it begins to slip. The only other characters who really matter at all in and of themselves are Andrew and her mother — and the former is under her thumb, and she eats the latter. It’s all about Ashley. Even her obsession with Andrew is, ultimately, about Ashley.

But who is Ashley? What is Ashley? Why is Ashley, even? Let’s take a look.

Ashley as presented to us in Episode 1 is very straightforward, so let’s list off the traits we’re given — she is malicious, she is fearless, she lacks empathy, she doesn’t have anything resembling a conscience, she demands Andrew belong to her and her alone, she has him at her beck and call.

In Episode 2, we’re ostensibly shown how she has him at her beck and call— she leverages the threat of reporting Nina’s death over him and had him swear to be with her forever. We’re shown that even as a child she was “just, like that” — but as a child, she hadn’t learnt to live with it yet, to laugh at the farce of it all.

Yeah, exactly like that!

And she does this throughout Episode 1 — The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is a remarkably silly game much of the time, finding moments of absurdity and levity against a backdrop blacker than pitch — and most of the time, your internal narration is coming from Ashley and the jokes will not-infrequently come at her own expense.

She will later get negged by her human sacrifice for her poor ritual circle drawing

Her reaction to being told that her soul is as dark and viscous as tar is “You guess you already knew that” — it’s confirmation to her, not new information. Ashley knows who she is. But who taught her this? There’s layers to this, nothing in this game is as simple and straightforward as it appears at first sight, which is why I’ve been obsessing over it for days.

While it’s common in fiction, the truth of the matter is, most ‘bad people’ really do think they’re good people. But Ashley has never once thought of herself as a good person — or perhaps better put as a person worthy of love — as we learn across Episodes 1 & 2, with our flashbacks to Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!!

I really wish I had space in this essay to talk about this, but I’d like to touch on these being traits usually more easily forgiven in young boys than young girls at some point.

If she removes all other options, only then can she expect him to like her.

This is something that is echoed in the modern day — her seeming self-assurance is easily shaken and she reaches out to the world — usually Andrew — to affirm and validate her, soothing her insecurities, using any tool she deems necessary. Even when her life is on the line when Andrew has her by the throat at the climax of Episode 1, the only ‘compelling reason’ she can give Andrew to not kill her is her ability to soothe his nightmares. When he tells her there are sleeping pills for that…

Most people would have a bit more to argue for their existence.

While she, unlike Andrew, acknowledges having had friends before the quarantine… you know she’s got a point that they didn’t even bother to answer her calls, that was clearly not something the state was interfering with given Andrew’s calls with his mother and his girlfriend, and given her general demeanour it’s not hard to imagine that… they weren’t ever very close. When we see her and Nina talk in the infamous ‘box scene’, it’s clear that Nina doesn’t like her very much, despite Andrew’s assessment of Nina as being one of Ashley’s friends.

We see further support for her general lack of companionship in her dream sequence in the Burial route — Leyley and Leyley Alone. No matter what you do, you can’t place the pink plushy at the family table, the flowers won’t bloom if you give the Julia and Nina plushies her own as a companion instead of Andrew’s — and if you’re bold enough to go for the ‘incest route’, in the ‘Love’ room you see that no one ever looks happy to be with her in the childlike depictions of her history, nor is she happy in turn, save for when she’s with Andrew. In a bit of heavy-handed metaphor, the player then overwrites all of these tense, upset, hard moments with Andrew, having him fill in for everyone else in life — and happy with her.

Once Upon A Lousy Life…

THE END

And that’s why she needs him to affirm her, because no one else ever has and no one else ever will. It’s even included in their comic beats — when the siblings are getting along well, they’ll often play a game where Andrew dramatically overpraises Ashley while she demands more; it’s a comedic bit but I mean — it really does matter to her!

For the record, she opened a door. She gets a little heart in a speech bubble after this exchange.

We have a great example of this dynamic, that of insecurity and affirmation, in Episode 1, after Andrew has killed for her, butchered for her, his girlfriend broke up with her, he’s seemingly thrown his entire life away for her… she’s still insecure over her relationship with him, she’s uncertain of her control and she needs him to reaffirm it for her.

This is her victory, surely?

Andrew affirms her once, with his usual dead-eyed look.

But she's still not so sure.

He actively reaches out to affirm her again with cheer.

Look how happy she is!

While it’s most obvious and clear cut here, it’s hardly the only case. Let’s look back to the aftermath of Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!! (I’m not using the other name). Leyley is, after similarly extreme acts — he murdered a girl and hid her body for her — convinced Andy doesn’t like her and she needs this leverage to keep him around, to meet her basic needs for survival. Because that’s what this is — she receives no care of affection elsewhere, so she forces it out of the only source she sees available through the means she sees as necessary.

I really hope we see some of their earlier childhood in Episode 3

What exactly made her like this? Was it just neglect, or something more specific…

She needs this to be the case because otherwise she doesn’t believe he’d stay.

This pattern repeats throughout — Ashley’s insecurities are hit on and she reaches out to Andy to affirm that she is not alone, and she will use any and every tool to exploit her ostensible control over him and force him to be what she needs him to be — and as long as she has that, as long as she is everything to him and it’s not possible for him to leave, she’s happy. As long as she thinks he loves her in her very particular, very peculiar view of love, she’s content, come what may. As long as Andy and Leyley are together, they can take on the world.

Let’s talk about that view of love, because there’s always more layers to unpack here I’m only scratching the surface with this essay — Ashley consistently refers to anyone else Andrew may have befriended or spent time with as a whore, a slut, a bitch — highly gendered insults that bring to mind the idea that he’s cheating in some way. But it’s not even about sex — when Andrew mentions that their parents had friends, she accuses them of cheating on each other in the same way!

There’s a lot to unpack about Ashley’s view of femininity and the role the patriarchy plays in their relationship.

Any kind of emotional engagement, any kind of commitment, any kind of life outside of your significant other is, to Ashley, cheating. Because that’s what she needs from Andrew, a seeming complete and total commitment, secure in her place as the only thing in his life, because she cannot understand anyone picking her if they have a choice.

This insecurity she has in her relationship is what drives her to empower the trinket — he can’t leave her as long as she can protect him with prophetic dreams, after all. She needs every kind of leverage she can get because until she succeeds in being everything to him, in devouring him so completely she has him in her thrall mind, body and soul she can’t be sure of herself — hell, her dream sequence in Burial has you placing Andrew’s signature green plushy, ‘the best thing in the world’ in a cage far away from anything else.

Ultimately, it really is all about Ashley — even her seeming obsession with Andrew ultimately comes back to her own insecurities. If she is everything to ‘the best thing in the world’, some of that ‘best’ must surely reflect on her!

But that’s enough about the more normal, straightforward and understandable sibling.

That was not a joke.

Andrew’s Rank 100 Deception

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he did not exist.

Let me explain.

You might have noticed that in the previous section I often use language such as ‘ostensibly’ or ‘seemingly’ to describe Andy and Leyley’s relationship, and there’s a good reason for that. From the beginning of the game through to its end, Andrew is lying to you, the player, without ever falsely representing or misinforming you about events that occurred.

The common, or obvious ‘initial take’ on Andrew as presented in Episode 1 is fairly straightforward. The game primes you to think this way, it frames things and strings reveals just right so as to make it very easy to overlook the incongruities it introduces in Episode 2. He’s a victim. Plain and simple, Ashley is his abuser and he is her victim and would be fine, a normal albeit kinda depressed guy without her.

It really is not a difficult conclusion to draw

You can go all the way through the game, have him try to accept his mother’s olive branch and enter the Decay route as a method for him to finally actualise his desire to get out from Ashley’s thumb and it makes sense, it’s a reasonable way for the story to go, given his character.

You see him this way because the game primes you in Episode 1 to view their relationship like Andrew does — he’s lying. He’s lying to himself, he’s lying to Ashley and he’s so good at it — Deception Rank 100 — he even lies to you. Without misrepresenting a single event or otherwise misleading you directly, the game gets you to buy into his preferred self-perception. Nina? Ashley. Julia? Ashley. The murders they commit in the course of the game? Ashley, Ashley, Ashley, it’s not his fault he’s not to blame he’s just a doormat at the beck and call of his demonic sister.

But he wants to be there. From the very outset, the very first puzzle, that’s made clear. Does anyone else remember this exchange, from right at the beginning of the game?

Ashley wants to investigate the music!

Andrew disapproves…

…Or does he?!

Like. Listen. Okay. You do not frown when saying ‘Nope’ and then smile when saying that you’ll instead tag along if they do it if your heart is at all in the no. That’s not an objection, that’s using Ashley as his excuse. Especially if you immediately throw her the balcony key that she could not possibly have gotten from you by force (more on Andrew’s ability to use force later).

This is the very first time you control both characters together with Andrew following Ashley instead of off on his own, the first adventure, the first puzzle!

But put a pin in that for now, let’s talk about his initial framing in Episode 2 first. Episode 1 has set us up to, generally speaking, believe the superficial framing of the siblings as portrayed in its promotional art:

The question that we then ask, right at the heart of it is… why is he a doormat? We explore this in his dream sequence in Episode 2, which does make it clear that the boy’s not okay but— it’s real easy, given the priming from Episode 1 to make you think that he’s the one with the originally functional moral compass, to think that that him being fucked up is damage done to him by Nina’s death and being bound to Ashley for his entire life. She corrupted him.

But, well, is that the case?

You're primed to ignore this as manipulation (which it is) but the best manipulation has some truth to it.

Precisely two things spur Andrew to action in the entire game, consistently — they are the fear of consequences and Ashley. And the first incident of that fear, the very first time we’re shown his seeming moral compass as a kid — the first time it’s really hammered home that it’s a fear of consequences rather than any true moral qualms is after Nina’s death. And why does he fear consequences here?

……

The ‘natural’ read that many take away from this sequence, particularly those who have only played Decay, is that Ashley browbeat him into doing this against his will, using emotional blackmail to overwhelm his objections, and then used the event itself to bind him to her forever as her personal doormat.

In a strict sense, this is true. But this doesn’t match up with the details, something the game uses shock to encourage you to overlook. That outburst is before any kind of threat has been made, and absolutely nothing either of them say anything about it being morally bad until Ashley weaponises ‘you’re a bad person’ against Andrew — morality didn’t seem to enter his mind or the equation at all until Ashley brought it up. More than that, his greatest fear and driving motivation even prior to that is, as shown above, being taken away from Ashley.

She, of course, recognises this and uses it against him. But she never needed to, it didn’t change anything about Andrew’s attachment to her, it was there to address her own insecurities.

Just like to touch on how a lot of his affirmations are preceded by him confirming her insecurities.

I adore this phrasing

There’s a second prong to this as well, to the question of ‘who really calls the shots here’ because — Andrew can, at any stage, apply an ‘ultimate veto’ of physical violence. The game is very clear to the player that that is on the table — even when they were children, when Andy swears their blood oath, he briefly considers killing her — and take note of how he ultimately got a ‘winning’ condition out of her by not specifying there wouldn’t be others and she is forced to accept that, there. Even outside of their most serious confrontations, Ashley is portrayed as having to convince, manipulate or otherwise coerce Andrew into going along with her schemes — she really can’t make him do anything, she doesn’t have the supremacy in violence and, to a lesser extent, capability that would allow her to.

Andrew, you are like ten years old.

The truth of the matter is, Ashley can only make Andrew do anything because he lets her. I don’t mean in the sense that I’m saying abuse victims let their abusers emotionally abuse them, I mean in the sense that he is clearly considering his options on the table and choosing to discard those that could stop her, or bring an end to any of this. He needs her.

But it’s true that he hates her, too. He has to hate her, because if he doesn’t hate her, if he isn’t forced to have done this, that means… he’s responsible. And nothing, at the start of the story, is as important to Andrew as avoiding the consequences of his own actions, not even Ashley. By the midpoint, he loves her, he hates her, he can’t live without her, he wants to kill her — by the end… well, that depends if you’re on Decay or Burial, but more on that in a bit.

A great scene to study for this dynamic is the climax of Episode 1, when Andrew grabs Ashley by the throat and considers strangling her to death. She’s pushed him too far with hurtful words and assault, and he’s seemingly had enough.

It’s still framed as a question of risk, of consequences happening to him.

Like, this is not the usual behaviour of someone who’s been pushed past their breaking point.

He tells Ashley that he wants to kill her, because she’s just going to throw another fit and that’s a risk to him. She is… not framed as being able to fight back (she does have a gun here, and more on that in a later essay, maybe). He’s so calculated in how he approaches his use of violence here, which isn’t at all what you’d expect of someone about to commit a crime of passion… but it’s very easy to overlook because of the abuser/victim narrative that the player fits his behaviour into the narrative that the game primes them to accept, brushing incongruities under the carpet.

At the start of Episode 2, we get to control Andrew for the first time, and the first obvious holes in his cover start to show. Some of this is optional — you only learn that he’s been faking having nightmares in order to share a bed with Ashley if you choose to go back into the motel room and check the bed, for example — but not all of it.

----(See reblogs for the second half)

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #andrew graves #ashley graves #spoilers #multipost

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ghost-proofbaby · 9 months

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twenty four hours (modern eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY ONE

in which you try everything you can to make eddie feel better after his encounter with chrissy - to make him forget, to make him feel cherished, to make him feel worthy.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, a single use of Y/N, smut (p in v), oral (m receiving), voyeurism, edging, good old fashioned ball worship if you squint, maybe some sub!eddie if you squint even harder, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7.3k+

→ a/n: shout out to @hellfire--cult for the balcony idea. i knew i'd get them there at some point, little freaks. and everyone say thank you to @icallhimjoey for the early post 😏

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

21:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

HOUR TWENTY ONE - 12:00 PM

STEVE-O: why do you guys suck so much at providing photographic proof of being alive? seriously

You’ve been staring at Steve’s text ever since the two of you arrived back at the apartment. You’d reply soon enough, but for now, the message was a distraction.

Eddie wasn’t speaking to you.

Not in a brooding sense, but in a way that let you know he was too far gone in his own head right now for you to reach him. When you’d said those words to him, when you’d admitted that you found him worth it, you saw his eyes glaze over slowly. You’d watched in real time as he slipped away from you. It might be that he doesn’t believe you, it might be guilt that continues to gnaw at him for a past that can’t be changed — whatever it is, you hate it.

The easy solution would be to send Steve the photos from the cafe, but you’d already tried that. Your thumb had hovered over that photo of Eddie with a mouthful of croissant, still bright and brilliant before all his waves of self-hatred had gotten ahold of him, and you just couldn’t. It was selfish, it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t share that piece of him with others. Some small, childish, hopeless bit of you needed to cling to the man in that photo and keep him safely inside your chest. It wasn’t a new version to your friends, they’ve always tried to defend Eddie and convince you he wasn’t all bad, but it was new to you. It was all so unexpected and unforeseen, the look behind his golden eyes as he seemingly looked right past the camera and right into you.

No, you couldn’t send that photo. It was for your eyes only. A souvenir you had greedily stolen.

Eddie had excused himself to the bathroom when you two arrived at the apartment, and this time, there was no dirty intentions behind it. You left well enough alone — he needed a moment to be by himself and that was fine. You could entertain yourself until he was ready to come back to you, back down to Earth. Right now, you were currently picking apart an almond croissant as if it were the most interesting thing you’d ever laid eyes on.

Croissant dissection — see? You absolutely could distract yourself in order to give him space. Absolutely no sarcasm there.

You finally sigh when you see a message bubble pop up with three little dots, signifying Steve is typing again. You don’t give him the time to properly finish out his message before you click on your camera icon, snap a shot of the picked apart croissant in front of you, and send a message with the image attached.

YOU: we were eating breakfast, eddie’s been in the bathroom. happy, mom?

STEVE-O: he’s been in the bathroom for an entire hour?

YOU: oh, you know how you men get with toilet time.

Despite the playful tone of your texts, your face is completely flat, chest still heavy as you think about Eddie behind the wooden door. Should you be giving Eddie this amount of space? What if it’s doing more damage than good?

You’re about to stand from the stool you’ve occupied for nearly ten minutes now and go try your hand at knocking, try and remind Eddie that you’re still here, when Steve’s next text comes through.

STEVE-O: stop bullshitting me. what happened?

You swear you taste metallic blood from how hard you bite down on your bottom lip, staring at the mocking message. You can’t even begin to explain to Steve what has transpired, not just this last hour, but the entirety of the time. The parking garage, the joking marriage, Chrissy showing up, Eddie’s painful vulnerability – you can’t find the words to tell him about any of it. The same as you can’t find it in you to send the photo of Eddie in Betty’s.

YOU: nothing happened. do you need any more proof than that?

He only reacts to your message with a thumbs up. You assume that means you’re in the clear, for now.

When you exit your thread of messages with Steve, a new thread that has been started catches your eye. It’s a new number, no contact on it. The only message sent is from you – the photo of you with your coffee, head thrown back and eyes shut with a wide smile boosting your cheeks.

Eddie’s phone number.

You look at the photo of yourself for a while, trying to not cringe at your appearance. To you, you just looked ridiculous. You don’t understand why Eddie wanted this photo preserved so badly. Your smile is too wide, your eyes are mere slits from the way your cheeks were squishing up with joy, most of your makeup you’d started the night with has long since faded due to a multitude of activities. You don’t feel like anything special in this photo.

But Eddie had wanted it. He had deemed this moment in time of you as picture-worthy, had gone so far as to send it to himself so that he’d have this memory even if you deleted it from your phone.

Before you think too hard on it, you tap on that line of numbers and add a proper contact profile to it.

EDDIE. You keep the contact name simple, eager to get it out of the way as you move onto the next step. A contact photo. You don’t even have to ponder on it – in a flash, you’ve selected the picture of him with the croissant.

You’re back on the thread of messages – or, at least, the singular message – and don’t stop yourself as your thumbs begin to fly over your keyboard.

YOU: why were the almond croissants almost sold out?

To be fair, you didn’t even know if Eddie had his phone on him. That green message stares back at you for a few moments before you get your answer.

EDDIE: Excuse me?

He has his phone. You lift your head, looking at the closed door of the bathroom before glancing back down at your phone.

YOU: because everyone went NUTS over them.

You perk your ears and listen for any sign of life from down the hall. Anything. A scoff, a pitiful laugh, him calling you stupid aloud. You’ll take whatever he offers.

It takes a moment, and you truly have to strain to hear it, but you can hear the laugh that would better pass as a sigh.

EDDIE: Is that supposed to be a joke?

YOU: ‘supposed to be’. excuse me, it was definitely a joke. and a very good one, at that.

EDDIE: Debatable.

You find yourself smiling down at the phone. Your neck aches from the way you keep glancing up suddenly at the door, silently pleading for him to come back out. To come out and fight with you, come out and bicker with you, come out and ignore you. Anything, for him to leave the bathroom and do anything but keep that door shut between you two.

He doesn’t, so you send another bad joke.

YOU: what did the customer say when they looked at the croissant?

This time, he plays along.

EDDIE: I don't know, what?

YOU: what a BREADtaking sight.

This time, you hear a more proper scoff come from within the bathroom.

YOU: i heard that. don’t even try to tell me it wasn’t funny.

EDDIE: I’m not laughing because they’re funny. I’m laughing because they’re BAD.

YOU: bet you wouldn’t say that to my face.

Immediately, you discard the phone, facedown on the counter as you look up to the door with unbridled hope. He could always ignore the comment, choose to not respond and continue to sulk away from you. It’s entirely possible – but you pray to every star in the sky that that isn’t what he’s going to do.

Please come back out. Please, even if just to sit in silence with me.

Your prayers are answered.

Slowly, painfully slowly, you hear shuffling on the other side of the door and await for the click of the door unlocking. It never comes, though – the door was never locked in the first place. He opens it, and you realize that the entire time, you could have stormed into the small room with him and demanded that he not hide away.

But you didn’t. You gave him space, gave him patience, and it’s clear he knows this as he comes out.

His eyes are red. As if he’s been crying.

“Hi,” you meekly say, taking in his face past those red-rimmed eyes. The tip of his nose is a fading shade of pink, as if he’s been rubbing it incessantly, and he sniffs for good measure as he turns the bathroom light off and walks to where you are.

“Hi,” his voice is rough around the edges as he greets you back. He won’t look you in the eye once he’s within reach – his gaze remains downcast, and you catch him fiddling with a few of his rings.

You hadn’t considered what you would do if you got this far. In every carefully considered scenario, you’d assumed he’d shut you out. You never expected him to come straight to you, as if seeking out comfort from you, without you having to beg it of him.

His eyes catch the croissants on the counter, torn apart and lazily picked at. He’s about to open his mouth and say something about it, probably questioning what you had done to the poor pastry, but you don’t give him a chance. You’re quick to snatch up one of the pieces you’d been picking apart to snack on for yourself and hold it out to him. An olive branch, an offering – a reason for him to sit and stay for a while with you.

He takes it tentatively, finally looking you in your eye again as he takes a small bite. It’s nothing compared to the bite he had taken when you’d snapped the photo of him, mere crumbs compared to that mouthful.

“Did you just… massacre our croissants?” he questions, squinting his eyes down at the crime scene.

You shift your body jokingly, failing at blocking him from seeing the mess you made, “Absolutely not. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

He almost cracks a grin, “Right. Of course. I must be imagining things.”

“Wanna hear another pun?” you blurt out, suddenly nervous as he continues to stand before you. You hate the incessant need inside of your chest that calls for you to comfort him, to make this all better for him.

“I feel like you’ll tell me one even if I say no,” he raises an eyebrow at you, “So, sure.”

“Why did the croissant go to the doctor?”

He hums, trying to peer over your shoulder again at the croissants you were badly hiding, “Let me guess. Is it because you tore it apart mercilessly?”

“No,” you scoff, reaching behind you to grab another piece to offer to him as well as one of your own, “It was because he was feeling crummy, dumb ass.”

A crack of a smile. It’s miniscule but there. It makes that terrible pun worth it, just to see him not looking quite as defeated is worth all the stars in the sky at this point for you.

You’d certainly been the reason for his unhappiness in the past, and you surely would be again at some point. It all feels so inevitable; just as he believes that he can only bring you misery, you can’t imagine yourself bringing him joy. A belief that strikes something in your chest, something albeit more painful than you’d care to admit, but it’s true. You’ve crossed a line, you’ve changed everything, but the past still remains.

You aren’t perfect. Neither is Eddie.

Heartbreak is imminent, but for this brief moment, you can make him smile. You don’t need to worry about the next time you’ll piss him off or upset him, you just need to focus on making that twitch on his lips more permanent.

“I meant what I said earlier, by the way,” you decide to rip off the bandaid as he moves as if to sit beside you. Quickly, your words make him freeze. A bad sign, but you push through, because he needs to hear these things, “You deserve good things, Eddie. Good people, good things- you just… you deserve those things in your life.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

He’s turning away from you. Turning and heading to the living room, walking away from you.

You don’t let him. In an instant, you get onto your feet and follow him, continuing despite him acting as if he’s finished with the conversation. You’re not.

“You’re a good person, Eddie,” you insist, reaching out for him before he makes it to the couch, “Don’t walk away from me.”

He spins easily in your grip. “Just because you say something, doesn’t make it true, sweetheart.”

He’s back to saying it like a curse. Like it’s a harmful title. As if it’s not a privilege to you and all your metaphors to hear that nickname fall from his lips.

Right before your eyes, his defenses are on the rise. Brick by brick, he’s slowly reforming those walls to separate the two of you. Instead of defeat, instead of acceptance, it just makes you angry.

“Stop doing that,” you say quietly, carefully, firmly.

“Stop doing what?”

“That. Pushing me away. Locking me out,” you tighten your hand on his bicep and watch the way his nostrils flare, “I fucking hate it.”

“Despite what you believe,” he takes a step closer to you, “Not everything I do is meant to piss you off.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and we both know it,” you can feel his muscles tense beneath your touch.

This time, his smile that emerges is cold. But you can still see the rubbage left by his tears — pink water lines and a new puffiness around his eyes. His words and his sudden cool demeanor can’t hurt you when you see it for what it is.

“Clearly we both don’t know it,” he chastised you, “We are very rarely on the same page. This isn’t a damn exception. You don’t have to prove your point, it doesn’t matter.”

He’s a wounded animal, striking out. He’s letting Chrissy’s words get to him.

“You’re worth i-“

“Don’t,” One of his hands shoot out to grip your waist, “Don’t fucking say that. Please. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

He didn’t believe you.

“I meant it,” you whisper, anger shaking out of your grasp inch by inch as you realize that your words can’t break through to him, “I mean it. You’re worth it, to me, to St-“

“This isn’t about Steve,” he cuts you off, “It’s not about Steve, or Nancy, or Robin, or fucking Argyle. No need to play dumb anymore.”

It’s about you.

You both know it. For once, contradictory to what he’d just claimed, you’re both on the same page. And like he said, no need to play dumb.

“You’re worth it to me,” you say it with more confidence this time, “You’re a good person to me.”

“How can you say that?” he laughs out, void of amusement, “How can you say shit like that after everything we’ve been through?”

How can you not?

You only squeeze his bicep tighter, and he returns the action by gripping your hip harsher. “Because I mean it. I believe it. Whether you do or not.”

For a moment, the cracks in his armor expose themselves.

“You shouldn’t,” his voice should waver, “You shouldn’t believe those things, Y/N. You should hate me.”

“But I don’t,” And I never did.

“But you don’t,” he echoes.

You’ve done the opposite of what you had wanted. His smile is gone, that sadness creeping back up. You hate that. You don’t hate him — you hate that world of mourning behind his eyes, that defeat that brings his shoulders down and makes his grip on you falter. So you do the only thing you can think of to distract him. Make him forget.

“Make me hate you.”

His eyes widen briefly, “Excuse me?”

“Make me hate you,” you practically beg of him, “Show me why you’re such a bad person and I’ll let this go. I’ll drop the conversation, we can- Fuck, we can forget this entire morning happened. Make me hate you, Eddie, and I’ll stop reminding you that I don’t.”

His fingers curl back into you, slowly and gently, as his brows furrow. He’s considering what you’ve just said — more than that, you can see him trying to untangle all the hidden meanings behind it.

“And how do you suggest I do that?” his voice is low and calculated.

You shrug, stepping forward, letting your lips get even closer to his, “Not my problem. Just make me.”

The fingers are no longer gentle as he pulls you into him, finally catching onto the emphasis you place on those two little words.

Make me.

When his lips meet yours, they’re rough and brutal, taking greedily what they want from you. The only thing on your mind is making him forget. Make him forget, carry the load for him — they’re both more important than making him smile for now. Both these driving needs burn brighter in your chest because it’s clear that’s what he needs.

You’re willing to give him whatever he needs right now.

“You want me to make you hate me, baby?” he mumbled against your lip, practically drinking in the way you gasp as he starts to pull back, “Is that really what you want?”

It’s what you want. “Yes.”

And maybe you do too, when he leans back in to bite your lip. There will be another time for you to convince him with words that you find him to be worth it. Both hands from wrap around you and rough start to guide you back towards that fucking couch.

“Not the couch,” you suddenly protest, digging your heels into the carpet at the center of his living room, “Anywhere but the couch.”

And oh, the way he’s looking at you in that moment might be your new favorite thing. Your new favorite color is his eyes as they sparkle with a bit of life that had been missing since the coffee shops encounter. Your new favorite sound is the silence that encases the little breath he lets out. Your new favorite movie is watching him move in slow motion as his eyes dart behind you, towards the door to his balcony, before his lips finally curl up with a hint of the genuine warmth that had been hidden behind his walls.

“Anywhere?” he teases, beginning to walk you backwards.

You nod, grinning right back at him.

“I think I have an idea.”

If you had known twenty one hours ago that Eddie Munson, your sworn enemy, would have you out on his public balcony and on your knees for him in only a matter of time, past you would have….

Well, you don’t really care what past you would have done or thought anymore. You’re making him forget, yes, all while making yourself forget. You don’t care what you, twenty one hours ago, would or wouldn’t do as you let the past slip through your fingers so eagerly. All you can focus on is the dig of concrete against your knees, the way Eddie’s hands grip the railing as he leans against it, and the way the early afternoon sun forms a halo around him as you look up through fluttering lashes.

You just want to make him feel good. Every action is intentional, doing everything in your power to erase whatever storming thoughts had been haunting him so cruelly since Chrissy had so carelessly said what she had. You want to make him feel worthy. You want to make him feel loved.

Loved. You certainly didn’t love him — you couldn’t possibly, could you? He wouldn’t let you. You wouldn’t let yourself. But for now, you could play pretend; you could worship his body, drag his shirt out of the way and place playful kisses across his hips, and you could pretend that only this moment exists.

“You wanna know what makes me such a bad person?” he sighs out as you let your teeth graze his skin, shoulders rolling to shake off that shiver you elicit from him, “This. The fact that this is all I can fucking think about.”

“Hm,” you can only hum in response, nails taking over the denim of the jeans he currently wore. You walk your fingers up his thighs, moving closer and closer to his zipper. Your mouth is nearly watering at the prospect of worshiping him.

And the fact that any neighbor could walk out at any given moment and catch the two of you. You should probably insist on it being fast, on him being quiet, but the thought sends a thrill through the pit of your stomach. Your thighs clench and your cunt aches at the thought of being caught.

You want to do more than make him bite back mere moans of your name. You want to make him scream.

Suddenly, a hand tangles into the roots of your hair, pulling back and making you focus on him again.

“Eyes on me,” he instructs. Once you focus on him and only him, he continues, loosening his grip and letting those fingertips rub at your scalp soothingly, “You know why you should hate me? For all the nights I pictured this.”

“Yeah?” you smile innocently, playing along. He can talk all he wants, you know once you get your mouth on him, he’ll be lucky to remember his own name. “How many nights, hm? Tell me all about them, pretty boy.”

You catch the wobble in his knees, the way his breathing picks up, the brilliant shade of ivory his knuckles stretch to. You lean back on your haunches, and the hand in your hair slips as he glowers down at you.

“What are you-”

“Take off your shirt,” you calmly command.

“Excuse me?”

“Your shirt. I want it off.”

His hand that was once tangled against your scalp now comes down to your face, movement slow but not hesitant as he pinches your chin. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, and you let out, even making a show of letting your tongue peek out to tap at it. “And who said you were calling the shots?”

“I did,” you put it simply, completely removing your hands from him now, “Take off the shirt, or I’ll leave you out here with blue balls.”

You close your lips around the end of his thumb and his knuckles dig in deeper to the skin below your chin as you suck subtly. He chuckles, but you can hear just how breathless he goes at the small action, even as he keeps up the act with a hard press of his thumb on your lower lip. Your mouth hangs open for him, waiting patiently for his next move.

A game of chess, an exchange of power, a fight for dominance. All the lines of who is and isn’t in control are blurred.

“Have you always been so mean, baby?” he taunts, trailing what spit you’d left behind on his thumb along your lip.

His movement stops when your lips spread into a provocative smile, “I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

The retort had potential to backfire. You wait for smoke and glory, for him to pull away from you further. He’d slam down a brick right in front of your face, lay the mortar to leave you high and dry. He’d push you away, and you’d have to retreat, tail tucked between your legs in the shame of trying when it came to him.

No smoke, no glory. He secedes, but makes no move to add to his walls, only removing his hand from your face and taking off the shirt. Just as you had told him to.

“Better?” he asks as he makes a show of tossing the shirt to the other side of the balcony. It could have even flown over the railing, for all you paid attention to the scrap of clothing. Maybe some innocent bystander is on the streets below, confused to all Hell as to why it’s raining obscure band t-shirts.

You’re just a bit too distracted to consider that right now.

With Eddie’s torso revealed, all words seem to evade you. You catch the sweat beginning to gather across his sternum, watching the way he’s flushing beneath your gaze, reveling in the pink chest exposed to you as the blush crawls wider. Instantly, your original purpose is forgotten, the primal urge to pepper kisses and bites alike across his skin almost lifting you up off your sore knees. You want to leave bruises – you want to make him scream, you want to mark him up, you want to make him feel worthy.

You stay on your knees, but compromise with all your wants as you lift up and stretch a bit. Your lips start their trail a bit lower than you (or Eddie) would have liked, taking their time to get familiar with the spanse of his rib cage first. You don’t nip with teeth, not yet. Just chaste kisses, lining each bone you can hardly feel residing beneath the skin, feeling his lungs expanding against your affection. Your tongue swipes alongside one of his side tattoos, a large and detailed dragon you hadn’t paid much mind to before. Every time you’d seen him shirtless, you’d been a bit distracted.

Not now. Now, you’re focused, determined to learn every curve and dip there is to explore on Eddie. You want to know him better than the back of your hands, memorize him more intricately than your own palms. After all, in order to worship a deity, you must know them.

You return back to the center line of his abdomen, kisses chasing after one another, even taking the time to suck his skin between your teeth but never bite down. You pause once your lips rest right beneath his navel, the tip of your nose brushing that rough patch of hair that leads down to your end destination. Your hands reach for his belt, toying with the buckle.

Through heavy lashes, you look up at him, staring down at you in awe, “You know, you’re not doing a very good job at making me hate you, pretty boy. Think I might just have to worship you instead.”

A deity of your own making. A deity for your own taking.

With skill, your hands undo the buckle effortlessly. You unbutton and unzip his jeans as if you’ve done this part a million times, as if you’d spent every single Sunday of the last year right here and doing exactly this. On your knees, worshiping him. This balcony, for all its exposure, certainly knows how to serve as a holy place.

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re impatient. You still haven’t left him speechless, meaning you still hadn’t made your point, clearly.

His jeans hang loosely as they creep down his thighs, abandoned for a moment as you occupy your mouth against his hips. The hips you once thought would look so pretty properly decorated. You decide you were wrong – they don’t need ink burying into the skin, they need your teeth digging in.

You cover that skin with mirroring images of bursts of purple and pink, flowering bruises that you take your time to mark onto him. With each suck and bite, Eddie rolls his hips into you, head leaned back and throat straining with each moan he swallows down.

With the last hickey finished, you finally lean back, proud of your masterpiece as Eddie whimpers above you. Blooms in the shape of your lips mingle with faint and quickly fading teeth marks.

“Fuck,” he gasps out when your fingertip stops trailing over your markings and comes down to apply the softest pressure over the straining bulge in his boxers.

“What was it that you said earlier?” your finger traces over where you know a vein is – you know it because you’ve felt it, been driven insane by it – before circling around the wet patch now forming. He’s desperate, hips bucking again and a moan finally escaping. You think he’s bitten his lips hard enough in an attempt at self-restraint that they might be bleeding, “You said I’m not calling the shots, right?”

“You’re not,” he pathetically grits out, hands forming tighter fists on metal railing, as if the moment he lets go of it they’ll find their way home to you.

You lean forward, breath washing over his crotch before you place a feathery kiss to his clothed tip, “I’m not?”

You are. You both know you are. A constant battle of control, an ever-growing fight for dominance.

He lets out something crossed between a sigh of relief and a whine of protest when you remove your lips and hand from him completely, only to let out a sharp yelp when your finger curls into the waistband of his boxers and pulls back the elastic, letting it snap back into place sharply.

“Say I am,” you barter, “Say I’m in control right now, and I’ll put my money where my mouth is.”

You don’t expect him to break so easily. You’ve underestimated just how tightly you’ve caught him beneath your thumb.

“You’re in control,” he gasps out, head hanging low to meet your gaze fully, “You’re in complete and utter fucking control of me. You’re calling all the shots, baby. You always are.”

He didn’t have to sweeten it up with baby, but it spurs you on.

You shove his boxers down, watching his cock spring out for the taking. And you do as you promised; you put your money where your mouth is.

You start softly, taking your time as you gingerly suck on his pretty pink tip as you had his thumb. Hardly hollowing your cheeks, letting your tongue circle his slit to gather up the precum. You let the taste of him completely cover your tongue, even hum in satisfaction when he lets out a loud groan. It motivates you, feeds your fervor as you let his tip fall from your mouth and trail the tip of your tongue down the underside of his cock. That vein you’d traced with your fingertip, yours for the taking, covered in a faint line of saliva as you let it rest on your forehead and graze your lips against his ballsack.

He can’t hide his shiver, even as his fist flies to his mouth to bite down on.

“Have I ever told you how cute you are?” you say low enough for just him. You can hear the sounds of traffic, a dog barking, birds singing — all reminders of the outside world and the looming threat of being caught. Warmth floods you again at the reminder of that threat, thighs clenching closer together in a desperate search of friction, “Just falling apart for me, acting so tough for so long until I got you alone.”

He whimpers your name. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You wrap your lips around the sensitive skin, sucking and pecking away on one side before moving to the next. His reaction throttles your movements. When his hand loses the fight of resistance, coming down to the back of your head, you laugh breathlessly against the now wet skin.

“Let me make you feel just how worthy you are to me,” you praise, pulling back finally, letting your nose brush against his sack as you do so. The hand that was once merely resting now tangles up in your hair — a warning.

You let the velvet skin of his cock drag down your cheek as each movement is deliberate, taking your time and in no rush. You want to savor him like this. Imprint him to memory.

You want to make him forget while making yourself remember.

You want to remember the way his hand flexes at the base of your skull when you finally kiss his tip once more, remember the way his abdomen tenses as you sink him further into your mouth. You want to remember every little sound that escapes him as he hits the back of your throat, as you constrict around him, as you moan around his base and the vibrations have him slipping out of control.

Your nails dig into his thighs to balance yourself, eyes watering as you look up at him. One subtle nod. He doesn’t need more than that.

Your jaw goes slack, trying to steady your breathing through your nose as you let him take control. His hips thrust at their own pace, gentle enough that he only grazes the back of your throat rather than bruise it. The issue is you want him to bruise it. You want him to mark you from the inside out. Until there’s no part of you left untouched by him.

You gag again, and he slows. Your fingers that grip his thighs immediately tap against him, and he mistakes it as a signal to pull back completely before you chase after him, pressing him onto your tongue until your lips are snug around his cock a mere inch from the base. Your nose is grazing those pubes in the dead center of all your love marks. Shapes of semi-permanent scars that whisper, you’re worth it to me. I want this. I want you.

The last thing on his mind was Chrissy Cunningham and her words alluding to him not being worth it.

You make sure of it when you finally release him from your mouth and begin to pump with an eager fist, ducking down and returning to pay attention to his balls once more. You nuzzle the soft skin, let the tips of your canines graze them before you suck them onto your tongue as you’d done his cock. He’s no longer containing his moans – they flow freely along with curse words, chants of your name, sounds you’d love to capture and play on repeat until the end of your days.

“Oh my God,” he groans out particularly loudly, “Fuck, baby. J-Just like that, please- Fuck. You’re doing so good for me. Such a good girl, just for me.”

Your hand is still wrapped around him, slowly coming up to squeeze hard around the tip as you whisper up to him, “Only for you.”

“Yeah? Only for me?”

You don’t know how to explain to him that it’s true: you’re only ever that mean for him, you’re only ever this eager for him, you’re only ever this desperate for him.

You don’t answer him with words. There are none. Instead, you take him back in your mouth, and you solely focus on bringing your deity to climax. The man you were worshiping, the man who was worth the ache in your knees that surely told you they would be left bruised, if not skinned.

“Is it just like you imagined?” you question as you break your lips off him. He’s close, leaking precum excessively and entire body taut, “Was it worth it? To picture this, to want this so badly?”

He almost can’t answer you, but somehow manages between pants, “It was. It is. You’re- fuck, you’re worth it.”

“Good,” you drop your hand from him, leaving him right on the edge as you rest both sticky palms on the tops of your thighs. You look up at him with relinquished control – the perfect image of submission, for him. “Then you get it. When I say you’re worth it, you get it.”

He’s clearly still reeling from you bringing him so close only to leave him hanging, teetering on a cliff as he stares you down.

His chest heaves as he questions, “What was it you wanted me to do earlier?” A deceiving hand comes down, tucking any baby hairs behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. One moment, his thumb is stroking a soft arch beneath your eye, the next that hand is pulling you up, “Make you?”

You know that if you hadn’t been so eager to follow his touch, you’d still be on your knees. Even as you watch him take the reins, you know you will always call the shots – just like he had said.

“You really think you can make me hate you?” you whisper once you’re standing tall in front of him, leaning your cheek into his touch.

“I shouldn’t have to make you hate me,” he corrects, the thumb back to gentle strokes, loosening the touch to be more tender once again, “You should already hate me.”

“Why?”

He flips positions immediately, your lower back now curving into the railing as he presses himself up against you, his achingly hard cock between your bodies, “Because of this. Because I always want you on your knees for me. Because of all the fucking filth I want to do to you. I want to bend you over, right here, and take you where anyone could see. I want to have you screaming my name loud enough that every single person on the streets of this city hears you.”

With each word, a knot ties inside of you, desperate for release.

“Because you’re fucking right,” he leans down, lips going straight for your neck, not looking you in the eyes, “All it fucking took was for you to get me alone for one night, and now? I’ll never get enough of you, I’ll never get clean of you,” he takes a deep breath, and suddenly, his lips latch onto you, sucking the skin between his teeth and biting hard. You can’t stop your fingers from latching onto his curls, tugging hard, body rolling into his. It hurts, it stings, you need more, “Everything changes. And that includes me.”

His face finally leaves the crook of your neck, pulling back to look you in your eyes. Doe brown eyes search yours, wide and honest and pleading. You let everything else melt away; for a moment, it’s only him and only you. The tension, the last twenty one hours, the last year — you let it disintegrate and focus on him.

It never mattered if everything changed.

It only matters that he’s changed, irreversibly, and so are you.

“How can I hate you for those things?” you press into him again, this time less desperate and more consciously, “Do it.”

“Do what?”

“All of it,” you trail a hand up his chest, “Every single thing you just said. Fucking- Do them. Bend me over, make me scream, change me,” your voice breaks, shaking with anticipation and need.

It’s all the encouragement he needs.

Every single thing he wanted, he craved, he does. A flurry of him properly discarding his jeans as he unbuttons yours to shove them down, spinning you and shoving you hard enough into the railing that it digs into your abdomen and leaves you breathless. You’re hardly aware of the way you step out of your pants and kick them to the side, looking out to the city skyline but not seeing it. It’s all a blur as you focus on the way your shirt rides up and he grabs your hips, bruising you finally as you have desperately needed.

You wanted to be left haunted by the end of these last few hours. You wanted to see him every time you looked in the mirror for the next week, to remember the map of where his body molded to yours. You want to dream of the way he stretches you as your underwear is ripped to the side. You want to be followed by the sounds of his skin slapping against yours as he snaps forward with intention.

Changing you. He has no idea that he’s already ripped you open from the inside out, has already rewired your entire chest and set flames to your brain.

Everything changes, and sometimes, everything is only two people. Just you. Just him. New versions that would have never met had it not been for this stupid fucking bet.

“Eddie,” you nearly sob, nearly choke on, his name burning in your throat like kindling embers.

His hand walks up your spine, trailing wildfire even with a layer of cotton between you two. Burning and singing away all you’d assumed for far too long. When he reaches the nape of your neck, he takes care in wrapping your hair around his wrist, tugging back hard and forcing you to stand from where the railing had been bending you in two.

“Say it again,” his lips brush you ear with every gasping breathing, timing with the way his cock is sliding in and out of your warmth, “Say it louder.”

“Fu-“ you start to moan, cut off by him pulling even harder on your hair, making his point so that you cry out, “Eddie!”

He thrusts harder. You swear you could feel him in your throat.

“Scream for me, baby,” an arm wraps around your torso, firm and solid for you to cling to rather than the warming metal of the railing, “Tell them who’s making you feel so good. Let them know. Be a good girl.”

Even when he claims to have control, it’s your actions, your reactions, that call the shots.

It’s the echo of your voice that spurs him on as you chant his name over and over, as if he were your only God. Primal worship dripping from every syllable. It’s the tremble in your thighs that has him pressing deeper into you, chest glued to your back as if he could never get you close enough. It’s the clench of your cunt around him, a vice that sucks him in as you drag him closer to the high he’s been dizzily chasing since you first dropped to your knees in front of him.

It’s you. You’ve changed him, as he’s changed you.

He pulls your hair until you rest the back of your head against his shoulder, back arching and feet still spread as he only maintains his quick and brutal pace, leaning down to whisper in your ear one last time.

“You know the real reason why you should hate me?” he grits out between to particularly forceful thrusts, “It’s not just because I don’t deserve you. It’s because I’ve wanted you for so long,” you’re right on the edge, fluttering around his cock as his movements stutter. A tell tale sign. “I- fuck, fuck. It’s- God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.”

You shatter around him in waves. Your entire body tenses as the words dig claws into you, piercing through vines and blooms. His body stills, warmth flooding you deep within as you continue to see stars. You can’t make a single sound, fingerprints surely left behind on where you clasp onto his forearm.

I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.

When the waves recede, when the high has passed its peak, you both freeze. Your body tensed in his hold, struggling to process what he’d just said.

Loved you.

He’s frozen in place, scrambling to figure out how to undo the damage just done.

I’ve loved you for so long.

He slips out of you, his spent dripping down your thighs. His forearm drops from you. Your hands don’t even try to stop him.

I’ll never be fucking worthy.

You should be worried of neighbors coming out to see the two of you on his balcony. If not worried, you should be embarrassed, or aching at the thought once again. Anything. You should feel something.

You turn slowly to him, entirely numb as you catch his rueful expression.

Loved you. He loved you.

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #if it's bad do not tell me #stranger things

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ignitesthestxrs · 5 months

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there's something about the way people talk about john gaius (incl the way the author writes him) that is like. so absent of any connection to te ao māori that it's really discomforting. like even in posts that acknowledge him as not being white, they still talk about him like a white, american leftist guy in a way that makes it clear people just AREN'T perceiving him as a māori man from aotearoa.

and it's just really serves to hammer home how powerful and pervasive whiteness and american hegemony is. because TLT is probably the single most Kiwi series in years to explode on the global stage, and all the things i find fraught about it as a pākehā woman reading a series by a pākehā author are illegible to a greater fandom of americans discoursing about whether or not memes are a valid way of portraying queer love.

idk the part of my brain that lights up every time i see a capital Z printed somewhere because of the New Zealand Mentioned??? instinct will always be proud of these books and muir. but i find myself caught in this midpoint of excitement and validation over my culture finding a place on the global stage, frustration at how kiwi humour and means of conveying emotion is misinterpreted or declared facile by an international audience, frustrated also by how that international audience runs the characters in this book through a filter of american whiteness before it bothers to interpret them, and ESPECIALLY frustrated by how muir has done a pretty middling job of portraying te ao māori and the māoriness of her characters, but tht conversation doesn't circulate in the same way* because a big part of the audience doesn't even realise the conversation is there to be had.

which is not to say that muir has done a huge glaring racism that non-kiwis haven't noticed or anything, but rather that there are very definitely things that she has done well, things that she has done poorly, things that she didn't think about in the first book that she has tacked on or expanded upon in the later books, that are all worthy of discussion and critique that can't happen when the popular posts that float past my dash are about how this indigenous man is 'guy who won't shut up about having gone to oxford'

*to be clear here, i'm not saying these conversations have never happened, just that in terms of like, ambient posts that float round my very dykey dash, the discussions and meta that circulate on this the lesbian social media, are overwhelmingly stripped of any connection to aotearoa in general, let alone te ao māori in specific. and because of the nature of american internet hegemony this just,,,isn't noticed, because how does a fish know it's in the ocean u know? i have seen discussions along these lines come up, and it's there if i specifically go looking for it, but it's not present in the bulk of tlt content that has its own circulatory life and i jut find that grim and a part of why the fandom is difficult to engage with.

#tlt #the locked tomb #i don't really have an answer lmao this is more #an expression of frustration and discomfort #over the way posts about john gaius seem to have very little connection to the background muir actually gave him #like you cant describe him as an educated leftist bisexual man #without INCLUDING that he is māori #that has an impact! that has weight and importance!#that is a background to every decision he makes #from the meat wall to the nuke to his relationship with the earth #and it also has weight and importance in the decisions that muir makes in writing him #it is not a neutral decision that he's known as john gaius lmao #it's not a neutral decision that the empire is explicitly of roman/latin extraction #it's not even neutral that this is a book about necromancy #it's certainly not a neutral fucking decision that john was at one point a māori man living in the bush #when the nz govt decided to send cops in #like that is a thing that happens here! that is a reference to nz cultural and political events that informs john's character and actions #and with the nature of who john is in the story #informs the narrative as a whole #and i think the tiresome part of this experience is that #in general #americans are not well positioned to understand that something might be being written from outside their experience as a default #like obviously many many americans in online leftist & queer spaces are willing to learn and take on new information #but so much of the conversation starts from a place of having to explain that forests exist to fish

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deepmochi · 3 months

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SYNASTRY: Venus in the houses (7th-12th) part 2

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Note: Honestly, I had a draft for the 2nd part, but probably I deleted by mistake, or tumblr did it (idk). Maybe, That's why I thought I already posted the 2nd part, but I was wrong.

Part 1 🩷

♡ Venus in the 7th house ♡

These couple usually views commitment as all or nothing, are you in or not? They have strong values about true love, and they will follow them. Love is viewed as a contract by their souls or hearts. If they break any aspect proposed, they know it's the end. They can be reflections of themselves either the good or the bad. When the contract is done, it's over. The Venusian sees the house person as a very stable being. They feel safe and prepared for them. These two may live together before the year of knowing each other romantically. The pair just feel ready when it's about commitment. The house natives perceive the Venusian as very "wife/husband" material for them. With this overlay, their personalities blend well and work together. It feels natural for both of you to be close and intimate together. For others is moving too fast, and for them is easy to become intimate with each other. The seventh house person fits well for the planet native. These two feel like it's a soulmate connection, very easy. You’re both drawn to please each other. It's a very strong connection for long-term relationships. It takes time for them to move on if they ever break up. If Venus has bad aspects, it can be a toxic relationship. The reason for this, it's that they prefer to stay together instead of being alone or start something new. Intimate gesture like hugs and someone hand guiding the other. Cooking dates and going out at night the most. "Here, I bought this?";morning texts: " how are you today? My day...." "Can I call you, I miss your voice"; " My mom ask if we can go to her party?" ; "we should go to that restaurant"; Formal clothes; "hey, look me, they don't know how worthy you are". They like to spend time with people they love. Balance. If Venus cooks today, the house will do it tomorrow. Wearing nice clothes and a good perfume to impress the other. Compliments and physical touches, especially kisses in the cheek. Cheesy things like love letters. Having "the song" or the place.

♡ Venus in the 8th house ♡

These two have a different kind of love. The Venusian feels like the house person bring something in them that they can explain. Sometimes, these people have taboos to share. Death has impact their lives. The house person may become obssess with the planet person. Sex isn't a way emerger together. Usually, they possess the same interest in taboo topics. In the beginning, Venus feels attracted to the house, but it's also scared of them. Their sexual energy is intense. The 8th house person wants to know the Venusian's secrets and fears. Both are possessive, but the house win the round. They detest when their partner don't respect them. Their relationship status will remain a secret for the public eye (in the beginning). They would share many things even traumas (if hardly aspected). The house native will protect the Planet from the world. Sex can be very intimate or aggressive (bsdm stuff). These people will not be the same they were when they met. For them, love is intense and transformational. The house feels that the Venus native is trustworthy, but they need to see their actions. Holding hands during intimate times. During sex they will talk and have intense stares. "I don't like that person, be aware of them", "Here, use this for yourself"; "if you need money, just let me know"; "don't lie to me, I know you are sad"; his/her hand on your thing while eyes are on the road; taking notes of your gestures. They have weird hobbies together and enjoy dark humor too. Moonlight sex and long sessions.

♡ Venus in the 9th house♡

These individuals perceive love as a new adventure and try to go with the flow. If they're mature, they prefer to maintain a very healthy relationship. Both prefer to travel and know about new places and cultures. Love is not as other say. They may prefer to do things their way. Venusian isn't instantly involve, but they see the house as interesting. For the house native, the planet is nice an attractive, but they will not force things. The house native could be older than the Venusian. The house person likes the planet manners and life vision the most. They see the commitment as an experience. Sometimes, marriage isn't obligatory requirement. They may enjoy walks, museum, and play board games. One could be from another country or have a different culture. Their relationship presents a new chapter in their lives and their families. Besides, they like to engage in intellectual debates, maybe they are into philosophy. If they broke up, they will try to be professional or move on. They can meet later in life after maturing. It's likely that you will work together or in the same environment. Having a child or more is possible, so use protection. "Look at here, we can travel here"; "aww, baby, you were right they declare that"; ["I really want to buy that book" / "baby, you have that book already"]; Saving for vacations; buying esch other souvenirs or antique objects as gifts; reading books and doing a small debates about it; *knowing each other during trips, universities, conferences, cultural events, and religious activities" Buying new editions of books. Love to try new foods or learn about new places together. They could meet while traveling or in college.

♡ Venus in the 10th house♡

Coworkers to lover vibes. They are comfy with being mature. Similarly to the previous combo, the house partner is the older one or has more experience. This partner also has more dominant energy. They could meet in different levels. The negative aspect is that they could be very nitpicking and too logical when it comes to love. The planet individual sees the house person as straightforward and mature. Partnership is very important is like a contract. If one of the part broke a part of the deal, it's done. They can work together or met during their carrer path (college, conference). They are straightforward and mature when approaching the other. If badly aspect, it could have a power imbalance (not good). Big egos over emotions, this is the start of arguments. They plan their dates. The planet person accepts that the house individual cares for their image and professional life. The Venusian isn't afraid of being a home stayed wife. Here the Venusian knows and appreciates the house efforts to balance their stability. Nonetheless, the house person must value the venusian support. Doing plans after they leave the work; caring for the other in profesional settings; making food or leaving notes in the stuff *you can do it* in their computer. Making each other feel valuable "Here, i make you favorite food"; let's celebrate your new position"; *making time to luch together*; naming the other whenever they can "I'm grateful for my wife meals and support"; giving gifts and showing their s/o in public. Even thought people think they aren't super romantic, they will try to match things. It could be rings, watches or wearing the same brand. Looking good.

♡ Venus in the 11th house♡

Love depicts a friend to lover storyline where both care for dreams and humanity. It's very possible that they met when they were helping other people. The Venusian fits the house' s ideal type. They seem more friendlier than other couples. You wouldn't think they were dating. They prefer to joke around, but they love each other. The Venusian share the dreams the house native have for life. It's also likely that they like each other in the future, even if they met since birth. They prefer to have experience with love before settling down. Its common to see them as "I thought they were friends". The Venusian see the house person as humanitarian and very interesting. Stay protected because big family can be a thing. The must clarify about what is a family for both. The house perceives the planet native as beautiful and too much to some people. Together, they will form a very unique pair and family. Regardless Venusian feel the planet as hopeful person. The eleventh house person sees a future with the venusian because they feel understood. Love for the house is independent, and the venusian can see this as as a relief. Making fun of the other in a non hurtful way. "I can't deal with you right now *kiss them*"; "Alexa play Celine one" *grabs the venusian; *hugs their s/o when they're cooking*; being romantic when they're alone; sending spicy texts "come home, I'm ready"; talking about the future; matching devices or wallpapers; a lot of trust, they share passwords. Having the same or similar friends. They like to help. Donating for other people as a hobby or helping to people who need. Dates in the nature. Cleaning beaches, rivers or places.

♡ Venus in the 12th house♡

Love is simple but blurry. They can't get confused in how they love. The house sees the Venusian see them as the real deal. The planet perceive the house native as too good for them. There are some blurry aspects that they don't understand. When this synastry happens, it can feel too blurry for outsiders. Sometimes, they feel as friends and others as partners. At times, they hide their feelings without realizing or because they don't want to hurt the other. The house may hide their crush for the planet (too well). The Venus feel like the house person hides things for them. The house native don't want to bother the venusian. The house wants to give all they have to the venusian without having a concrete reason (maybe they are friends, but they are their #1 friend). This connection feel very special even divinely guided. The house is very observant with the Venusian Different backgrounds, it's possible that the house person has faith or not. One (usually the venusian) is more intuitive. Venus comes to open the house's eyes to other knowledge. The house will do all they can, so the venusian is happy. They can be soulmates (even non platonic). On the negative side, they don't have good communication because they avoid confronting each other. Both have experience paranormal activity, but only one believes more. The Venus person will try to invite the house to their home (pure opening of their soul). The Venusian can be quite delulu, but the house see it as funny. They met when something is ending for the Venusian. Romantic times, home dates, asking the other about thing carefully, a special vibe around them. *Big smiles and shiny eyes*, "I buy you this; you tell me two months ago around 9pm" "aww thank you", "are you sleeping well?" - "yes" , *astrology or tarot talks* "can you give your birth time?" - "12:34 am" " it was bad?" "No, we match". Talk about paranormal activities like any other topic, special dates, random celebrations, secret spots, discreet dates, spirtual conection, they may understand the other, but can't explain it.

Take what resonates only. 💚

#venus #venus synastry #astrology #venus in the 7th house #astrologynotes #zodiac #astrology community #venus in the 12th house #venus in the 8th house #venus in the 11th house #Venus in the 9th house #venus in the 10th house #astrologia #aries #scorpio #libra #deepmochi #pisces

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 15 days

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The Quiet One 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, what do you think?” Lloyd asks as he turns to you, outstretching his arms as he gestures to the endless hangers. “All yours. You got your pick.”

You stand just inside the door of the walk-in closet. The space would take up at least half your apartment alone. You cross your arms as you glance along the rows of coloured fabric hung from the walls, organized in a perfect ombre effect of shades. On the far wall, there are shelves full of shoes and accessories, along with a vanity in the centre.

“I know you’re a simple gal,” he grins, “but you don’t have to be anymore. Whatever you want, ain’t no mountain high enough and all that.”

You nod and blow out between your lips. It all still feel surreal like a nightmare. You swallow and tamp down your discomfort. You didn’t hate the life you had. Your small apartment, manageable and tame. You prefer predictability, even if some might say it’s boring.

“Erm, I dunno,” you slowly trail over to the other side of the closet.

“Well, you could pick some shoes first. That might inspire you,” he suggests as he approaches you, “you don’t need to be too fancy, you know, you always look nice.”

“Mm,” you nod,” thanks that’s...”

You let the sentence hang. This is really freaking you out. Your chest feels tight and your head is buzzing. You shudder out a breath.

“What... what am I choosing for?” You croak.

“I told you, jellybean,” he puts his arm around you and pulls you against his side, “it’s a surprise.”

He reaches to grab a hanger and holds it out at arm’s length. A blush-coloured satin dress with a bit of frill at the bottom of the skirt. It’s nothing you would choose yourself.

“Sure, that’s nice,” you say, just to appease him. What else can you do?

“Hm,” he hums, “you don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say...”

“You don’t sound very excited,” he pouts as he turns to you, his hand lingering on your hip, “none of it? I got it all for you.”

“I’ll wear it,” you sniff, “I’m sorry, I’m just... I’m... adjusting.”

You don’t know how else to explain it.

He pushes his lower lip out and narrows his eyes, “sure, sure, makes sense.” He drags his hand off your hip and steps back, keeping the dress up as he angles it before you, as if he’s imagining you in it. “This is gonna look so hot, baby.”

You do your best to stay placid. It’s harder as you heart pounds furiously. You can’t even begin to guess what he has planned but with everything he’s done and said, you know exactly what his intent is.

“You should get washed up, huh? Then get dolled up. Like I said, won’t need much of that,” he winks, “you could walk in ass-naked and I’m sure you’d stun.”

You can’t help how your mouth slants at his remark.

“Alright, jellybean, let’s get you in the tub,” he lays the dress over the velvet bench and spins back, startling you as he grabs both hips and jerks you towards him with a growl, “can I watch? I promise, I’ll try not to touch. Yet.”

You clasp onto his wrists with a yelp. He curls his lips eagerly and you repress your horror. You don’t want to antagonise. You don’t want him to get any worse than he is.

“Um, did you want... to?” You murmur.

“Fucking of course,” he urges you against him, “the things I want to do...” he smirks, “I’m quaking in my boots.”

He bows to smother you with a kiss. His mustache pokes at your uper lip and up your nose as he hums and slides his tongue across your lips. You squeeze your mouth tightly shut but he pokes through, nearly choking you as he invades. You press your hands to his chest as he locks you into his embrace.

Finally, he part and you gasp for breath. He snickers as you puff against him. Your skin is crawling as you wriggle in his hold.

“Yum,” he purrs.

He lets his arms fall away and quickly snags your hand. You let him drag you around to the door, your feet hollow as they move without a thought. Resistance is plainly not a choice.

He takes you back into the adjoining bedroom, the one you awoke in, and through another door way against the perpendicular wall. He steps to the side as he tugs you forward and releases you. Your take in the sleek black walls and black tub, the silver shower head in a monochrome booth, and the ebon marble veined with sparkling white.

“I get it, it’s going to take a lot of getting used to,” he boasts, “this is our home, sweet cheeks. Remember that. You treat it like your very own... it is. Just like me, all yours.”

You pad slowly inside, if only to keep a distance from your captor. You won’t forget what he is. He can give you all the luxurious things but you remember the days of starvation, of terror. He can’t see himself for what he is but you do.

“Face masks, body scrub, bath bomb, shower gel, bonnet, robe,” he points at the fluffy purple robe still around you, “slippers,” he flicks his finger towards the mat beside the door, “lotions, creams, everything you can dream of. Oh damn, I can call a nail tech if you want a fresh mani--”

“Uh, no thanks,” ball up your fists, hiding your short-trimmed nails, “that’s not... that’s okay.”

“Only the best for you, kitty cat,” he says.

He strides forward and you flinch out of his way. He goes to the tub and cranks it on, water splashing out from the high faucet. He flips the silver lever to put the stopper in place and backs up.

“Voila, all for you,” he declares, “I’ll just...” he looks around and backs up to sit on the fluffy cushioned stools near the wall, “sit and watch. If you need help getting your back, I got you.”

He wiggles his fingers and gives a lecherous grin. You withhold a shudder and face the basin, the water battering the bottom. You step forward and peer down into the shallows. You clutch the front of the robe and peek over in his direction but not at him.

He waits, silently. You sway, squeezing the fluffy fabric as you peer back at the water. You don’t know if you can do it. Not with him right there.

“Whatsa matter, baby, you need help?” He shifts and you jolt.

“N-no, I just...” you look down at yourself and frown.

“Ah, you’re shy. I totally get it,” he coos, “you don’t gotta be though. Your beautiful, so you should be proud. Show it off, honey.” He clucks and shakes his head, “you know that’s the thing these days, all you girls, you’re so insecure, but you trust me, sweet lips, you got nothing to be insecure about.”

Your stomach flips. You feel hazy. You try to shrug it off and drop your hands to the belt of the rob. You untie it. You’re really going to do this. Why?

Because you’re afraid? Weak? Yep.

You shed the rob and look around. You hang it on the hook behind the door and return to the tub. It’s getting deeper and deeper. You touch the bottom of your shirt and scrunch it up in your fists. Just do it quickly and get in. He can only see so much from over there.

You pull your shirt off, nothing underneath. You push your pants down quickly, your underwear rolling down inside. The skin feels cooler then and tingles across your naked skin as you latch onto the tub and swing yourself over the edge. You barely get a foot under you before you submerge your body in the water.

You sit up, legs bent, stiff on the porcelain as the water continues to rise. It’s not quite at your chest yet. If you let it fill all the way, it might touch your chin. As you watch the depth climb, you don’t notice him until he closes. You slide to the back of the tub as Lloyd cranks off the faucet.

You notice how his eyes stray to you. Your legs stay bent in front of you, blocking most of everything. You shrink down, hunching your shoulders as he searches through the ripples. He tilts his head and cracks his neck as he exhales and backs away.

“Take your time, baby,” he purrs as he rubs his chest.

He sits again and you lower your head. You’ve never been this bare in front of anyone, rarely even yourself. You’re just not comfortable without some short of shield around you. Your eyes tinge with the threat of tears. You feel like you’ve been hit across the face. This is real. Really real.

Your eyes flick up and you reach for the purple scrubby on the little black shelf. You just have to get through it. That’s what you’ve always done.

👄

You stare into the open case. You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept of make-up. When you were a teen, you had a phase, and you’ve been to enough job interviews to wield a mascara wand. Still, the amount seems excess.

There’s almost every sort of product in every shade. Some sort of tap you don’t know what to do with, highlighter, and finishing spray. It’s too much. Your look is either a bare face or nothing at all. More often the former.

You fidget with a tube of lipstick, clicking the lid up and down. This is all so strange. What are you getting ready for? And why? This isn’t your home, this isn’t your life, and yet it’s all so perfectly planned.

“Honey bunnnnnn,” Lloyd’s timbre has you dropping the stick. He strides in, flustered, holding up two ties. He’s half dressed. A pair of red velvet pants and amber satin button up. It’s not a look you would go for. “What do ya think? Which tie? Paisley or the stripes?”

You shrug and shake your head.

He clicks his tongue, “genius, baby, genius. No tie. You’re right. Just the jacket.”

Your mouth falls open and you nod, “sure, yeah.”

You look back at the vanity and huff. Your face is untouched. You sit in your robe in the walk-in closet, mulling over your misery. Self-pity is as inescapable as these walls.

“What’s up, cheeks?” He asks, “you need some help? I’m thinking you could give a bit more colour to lips but keep the rest very subtle.”

He crosses the floor and hovers behind you. You stir around in the case and take out two bottles of foundation. You’ve never really used that either but the shades are pretty close. He lays the ties down on the vanity, brushing your back as he does, and pulls back to grip your shoulders.

“I tried to guess as best I could. Don’t know much about all that but the lady in the store was a blessing,” he massages your shoulders as he talks. You’re tense as steel. “But you know, you got perfect skin so...”

“Mm,” you put the foundation back and peruse the little shelf alongside the mirror. You reach for the moisturizer. Your skin feels raw.

“I like it, au natural. Touch of cream, little lash...”

“I’ll figure it out,” you grumble. He’s kind of annoying. No, he’s really annoying. All of this is annoying.

“Right, yep, I will get out of your way,” he bends and kisses the crown of your head, “lots of time.”

He strolls out and you scowl at the mirror. Something about him is getting to you. You’re not an angry person. You’re a nice person. You don’t go out of your way to be around others but when you are, you strive to be pleasant. Or at least, out of the way.

You spread the cream over your face, watching your reflection as if it’s someone else. Where did he come from? Why? This is some cruel trick because you only ever wanted to mind your business.

You cap the bottle and put the moisturizer back. You fish out a mascara stick and brush it on your lashes then find a neutral lip colour to put on. Nothing special, just like you. Hopefully he sees that soon enough.

You pack away the case and push it to the back of the vanity. You get up and go to the velvet bench where the dress lays. He’s plucked out a few things to go with it. A gold necklace with small diamonds speckled along it and a pair of beige heels.

You peek at the door before you untie the robe. You shiver as your fingers brush your stomach. You close your eyes as you recall how he wrapped you up in a towel after your bath. His touches were more than deliberate but his intrusive gaze made you squirm more.

You pull on the lingerie tucked under the dress. A thong. You’ve never worn one of those, and a satin and lace bra with no padding. Even as you pull the dress up your figure, you feel like you’re on display. You reach back, bending your arm until your elbow throbs as you push the zipper up.

“Need some help?” Lloyd’s voice makes you wince.

You sniff, “sure.”

You hold up the bodice as he approaches. You refuse to look back at him as he nears. He tickles along your spine with a single finger before he tugs on the zipper. He pulls it up little by little, until the fabric is snug around you. His fingertips drift down your back and he spreads his hands across your ass. You gasp.

Before you can step away, his hands glide around and he grabs you by the hips. He pulls you against him and rocks with you. He inhales your scent from above and sighs.

“Jellybean...” he almost sings, “are you...untouched?”

You lock up and grab at his hands, trying to free yourself.

“Is that why you’re so shy?” He snickers and spins you around, hands going to your waits, “I’m honoured to be your first.”

You gape at him, horrified. His intent hasn’t been hard to guess but said aloud, it is all too imminent.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the gray man #the quiet ones

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mariacallous · 9 months

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The problem with judging people for their sins is that the internet makes it exceedingly easy to invent sins. In February, Buzzfeed News reported on a man filmed by a passing TikTokker, who then uploaded the footage with text suggesting he’d lied to her to get out of a date. That was false—he’d never met her—but it didn’t stop people from ridiculing him as the video racked up over a million views.

Similarly, last year, an Australian woman objected to being made the star of a stunt in which a TikTokker asked her to hold a bouquet, strolled off, and then congratulated himself on performing a random act of kindness. Sixty million hits later, his viewers were praising him for brightening the day of a woman they judged to be old, lonely, and sad. But she objected to that characterization and declared the whole affair “dehumanizing.” She hadn’t asked to have her day interrupted, let alone be thrust into a global spotlight.

And then there are those incapable of even grasping the situation. In 2022, a TikTok channel was called out for surreptitiously filming the homeless with drones. Loved ones with dementia are put on TikTok to be infantilized or have their worst moments gawked at. Parents transform their children into viral stars. Sometimes, those children grow up and call them out for warping their youth.

When people tell us it was harrowing and wrong to be unwillingly cast into the spotlight, we nod and agree. But those responsible typically offer only half-hearted apologies or remain unrepentant, while their millions of views discourage reflection. Often, moral scolding is implicit in the video and explicit in the comments: It is wrong to be homeless. It is gross to be ill. It is pathetic to be unhappy.

To be sure, crass and hateful public figures are worthy of ridicule. And we’ve been using the internet to judge strangers for as long as we’ve had the internet. But the common trait shared by much of the most obnoxious content today is that someone chose to elevate a stranger for no reason beyond their own gratification, attracting attention at a scale unimaginable in the days of relics like Hot or Not and People of Wal-Mart.

At best, these are misguided attempts to juice the poster’s social media presence. At worst, they are pointless cruelty. That cruelty can be addictive, but we can and must resist the urge to gawk at strangers against their will. It should, in fact, be considered rude, insulting, and wrong to have uploaded a stranger against their will. We would not go out into the streets and stir up a mob against a random person. Why are we so comfortable with doing it online?

Much of what we post online is innocent and will remain so. The average Facebook user has 338 friends, while the average number of Instagram followers, according to one estimate, is just 150. You likely use these platforms to follow celebrities and brands, and to interact with friends and family. These are, for most users, insular communities. Vacation photos with friends or a family portrait at Christmas are unlikely to attract trolls and creeps, and even if they do, they are clearly posted in good faith.

But some platforms, like TikTok and Twitter, are more exposed to the vagaries and cruelties of the wider world. Anything you post on them can wind up in the feed of people who don't follow you. Therefore, anyone can become the day’s punching bag. Does your relative really understand what could happen if you put your interaction with them on TikTok?

Maybe you know better than to post Grandpa on Twitter without thinking it through. We know whether our friends and family like attention and whether they understand social media ecosystems, and with this knowledge we are capable of making informed decisions as to whether and on what platforms we should post them. We do not have the same knowledge of strangers. That can be a reason to not post them, but it can also be an excuse to post them without thinking.

If it came out that an influencer uploaded an interaction with a stranger to a private Facebook page or Discord server solely so their closest friends and family could pick them apart, it would rightly be considered misanthropic. And yet uploading a stranger so millions can mock and over-analyze them is just the business of content. That business needs to change.

It’s exceedingly unlikely we’ll ever eliminate jackassery from the internet, but a social media mishap involving a friend or family member can be resolved with communication.

It is harder for a complete stranger to succeed in that endeavor, especially when “Look at this weirdo I found, please gape at them” is the text or subtext of so many videos and posts by accounts that thrive on content starring the unwilling. Such content must become anathema. Particular thought must be taken before posting an interaction with a stranger, and the consent of a stranger to be posted at all is necessary to retain an internet that is even remotely civil. If someone does post a stranger without their consent, they should be shunned, not rewarded with the attention they crave.

The vast majority of disputes with unruly neighbors are solved by talking to them. Ideally, the law only gets involved when lines of communication break down. The same can be true of digital disputes.

We have privacy laws. If I were to post your name, address, and phone number, you would have legal recourse. And yet the same is not true for your image. Today, at least, you surrender your right to privacy by stepping into public. But outdated privacy laws are catching up to the abuses of government and tech, and the issues raised by social media virality could be next.

Still, a blanket law against posting strangers without their consent would be draconian and unworkable. There are too many variables, too many circumstances, and simply too many cases. However, whole generations who have been online since birth—sometimes unwillingly—could grow up to be more sensitive to the downsides of posting without permission, prompting a normative shift.

More specific laws are already evolving to handle some scenarios raised by nonconsensual virality, specifically as it applies to children. Irina Raicu of Santa Clara University’s Internet Ethics Program points out that a recent French law entitles child influencers to demand that platforms scrub all trace of them once they turn 16. The YouTube career their parents create for them—or force on them—need not be what defines them as adults. The United States is considering a similar law; a woman who testified to a House committee said the details of her first period were turned into content.

Another law being considered in France would make parents responsible for their children’s privacy rights. Le Monde cites, as an example of fame-seeking behavior that France is hoping to discourage, TikTokkers scaring their children by pretending to call the police on them, and an Instagrammer who smeared chocolate on her 4-year-old and convinced them they were covered in feces. We will eventually wonder how parents were able to get away with this at all.

So those who cannot consent are starting to be protected. But what about those who could consent, but don’t? And what if, as some unwillingly viral subjects have found, reaching out and asking for posts to be removed is met with silence or rejection?

In reality we already practice social media consent; it is not unusual to ask a friend if they’re alright with having a picture posted to Instagram, even though the face they make as they try to cram an unusually large sandwich into their mouth is not a flattering one. And yet we continually fail to extend this courtesy to strangers, either because we think nothing of it or because it is our job to go viral at all costs.

Some of this, as Raicu points out, can be blamed on the platforms we use, which encourage hair triggers. “There are ways in which the design choices behind many websites make it harder for all of us to think about consent,” Raicu wrote in an email. She points to the sheer ease of posting and the fact that norms around social media consent have not solidified. But she notes that platforms could “introduce some friction” in the form of, essentially, reminders that other people are human before you hit Post.

Future platforms could work to curtail shaming, either out of moral compulsion or legal necessity. Much as you can report harassment to social media platforms, posts that have elevated you to infamy against your will should be fair targets.

Lines have been drawn before. YouTube banned dangerous pranks and challenges after people were hurt and complaints mounted. TikTok is trying to tweak its algorithm in response to growing concerns that young users are awash in content encouraging suicide and incel ideology. Content made from those unable or unwilling to consent is a broad category that cannot be wiped out with algorithmic tweaks, but the damage is still happening, and we have the power to collectively declare that some forms of content are unacceptable and must no longer be tolerated.

Perhaps, given the increasing universality of social media usage—83 percent of Gen Z uses TikTok—platform-embedded tools could establish consent. Before posting a video of someone, an influencer could ask their username and send them a simple, stock contract granting them permission to post. Again, this need not apply to every random photo of friends. It could be optional, or it might apply only when an account reaches a certain threshold of followers. But a lack of permission could give a user cause when they cite unwanted virality and negative attention when asking for a post to be removed.

But most of the work will fall to people. It's difficult enough to remember that the man being a bit rude in the grocery store line is a fallible human being with hopes and dreams; it can be almost impossible to remind yourself of that when viewing a contextless clip of someone halfway across the hemisphere. The internet is capable of connecting us to tremendous numbers of people, even as it makes us forget that they are human like us.

An influencer comfortable with filming themselves for thousands of viewers should be comfortable with approaching a stranger and saying, “Would you mind appearing in a video I’m making? I’m going to post it on this platform, and I have this many followers. Take a minute to check me out.” Some already do, and surely there are people who would be happy to receive a free bouquet in exchange for appearing in a TikTokker’s silly stunt. But a no should be taken as a no, just as it should in any other scenario involving consent.

It’s all too easy to skip this step today. People who speak out when they feel harmed by what an influencer did with their image receive only a tiny fraction of the attention that the original posts featuring them got. But when an influencer is repeatedly called out for exploiting strangers—or when their exploitation is obvious, such as when they prey on the homeless—they should be frozen out of the social media ecosystem, not rewarded with attention and profit.

In the future, how will we be able to see such casual cruelty as anything but unethical? Maybe stories of regret are a sign of what’s to come. Brianna Wu, one of the victims of GamerGate, says she has fielded over 100 apologies, often from people who were at their lowest and saw her as an easy outlet for their emotions. But we generally don’t take our frustrations out on people on the street; understanding that people deserve to be protected from unsolicited online fame and malice is the next logical step.

We no longer parade people through villages on a cart or lock them in pillories in the town square to shame them, as was done in centuries past. We did not stop enforcing laws and norms, but we recognized that humiliation and ostracization are harsh, counterproductive tools. Eventually, we will make that realization about the strangers we parade across the internet.

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allisondraste · 6 months

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I’ve seen various different posts on the website formerly known as Twitter and this one right here, discussing Gale’s behavior in romance as obsessive, possessive, and possibly codependent. And while I support everyone having their own interpretations and opinions, I do disagree, so I want to talk about it!

First— it’s so important to acknowledge that Gale is strictly monogamous. He is not someone who is comfortable with a partner having other partners. This is fine, and not inherently indicative of any unhealthy attachment styles. Wyll, Karlach, and Lae’Zel are also monogamous in a relationship.

Gale does struggle with some insecurity that at times bleeds it’s way into his romantic relationship, but isn’t a product of the relationship itself. His biggest insecurity is feeling like he isn’t enough (in general, not just for a romantic partner). Mystra had a way of making him feel like nothing he did was ever enough, he always needed to do more, to be more, and when he tried, when he made mistakes, she abandoned him.

Those are wounds that do not heal quickly, and so he needs quite a bit of reassurance from both friend and lover PCs that he’s fine just the way he is and that he doesn’t have to try so hard or pretend to be fine when he’s not.

He’s lonely. Due to his condition, Gale, who is an incredibly social person, had to hermit himself away from his friends and colleagues for over a year. Mystra was no longer interacting with him, and he was afraid to be around his mother because he didn’t want her to worry. His only company was Tara, and as much as he loves her, shes not a replacement for human or humanoid connection. Usually with folks who struggle with codependency and insecure attachment, there are long patterns of each of those things in all of their other relationships, but Gale seems to have had pretty healthy relationships, the Mystra situation being the exception, not the rule.

It excites him when he gets to travel with a group, have friends. It’s even more exciting to him when he finds someone who makes him forget the hurt Mystra has caused. Yet he still has to withdraw from even that because he does not want to put their life in danger. It is not until act 2 after Elminster has cast the incantation to calm the orb that Gale feels comfortable enough to give in to his feelings. And yeah! He comes in strong because he’s been holding it in. He’s been pining away, sad that he can’t let himself so much as kiss Tav or else he quite literally explode.

When you talk to Gale after his romance scene in act 2, you’re able to confront him about his feelings for Mystra, and he is very direct, stating that he does still have complicated feelings for her. Which makes SENSE. The game and Gale himself try to minimize Mystra as just his ex, but she is more than that. She is his groomer and abuser. Gale is traumatized, and it will likely take him the rest of his life to get over that. It’s not something that more time alone is going to heal. He needs a support system to help him. He needs his mom, his friends, and maybe even his new partner.

You can also ask him if he meant it when he said he loved you, and his answer is “I am many things to many people, but I am never one to throw the l-word around lightly.” He didn’t just say it on a whim. He thought about it, probably extensively. Judging from the dialogue we get, he’s aware that he is rushing to say it, and admits that it’s because he’s scared that he’s going to literally die tomorrow. It’s not a love bomb. It’s an “I need you to know this, just in case something happens to me.”

Once he doesn’t die in act 2, he simmers down. He becomes more concerned with curing his condition, he faces Mystra, he accepts that he doesn’t need to have godly power to be worthy of love and respect.

At the end of the game, he asks you if you’ll come back to Waterdeep with him, which is his way of proposing more or less, but its more that he wants to be home and he wants the person who has become so important to him to come with him, to meet his mom, to see his hometown. He wants them to want that too.

He’s a grown man, mid to late 30s, not a naive young person. He knows what he wants. He’s thought about it, extensively.

In my opinion, there’s nothing possessive, obsessive, codependent, or unhealthy about any of that.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #meta post

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edenfenixblogs · 5 months

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I don’t think most non-Jews understand how disappointed we are in the left right now. How completely abandoned we’ve become. How our contributions to progress for other groups have been erased or disavowed or hidden. How the actual tangible things that Jews have contributed to black rights and civil rights are being ignored. How we’re being told we contribute and have contributed nothing.

How we are being told that the world has been kind to us when it never has. As if my mom didn’t grow up getting called a Kike and getting beat up for being Jewish. How I thought I had friends until I caught them saying “xyz was beautiful until Jews showed up.” How people told me I was pretty “for a Jew.” How I grew up hearing stories about bombs being set off in Israel in buses and markets. How I couldn’t even go two weeks without hearing that and how nobody cared and somehow, every time that happened, the whole world became more hostile to me for some reason.

I just don’t understand. I don’t understand what leftists are doing. Or why. I hate that I have to say—of course, I support a free and self determined Palestine (which I truly do)—in order for you to decide I’m worthy of care and support.

We showed up for you. All of you. And the entire movement is abandoning us at best or targeting us at worst. Celebrating our deaths. Saying we deserved it. How are we supposed to trust you ever again? How are we supposed to feel safe ever again?

A very few select people who are in my life have taken the chance to actually learn about and dismantle their own unconscious antisemitism during this time. And I’m eternally grateful for them. But most people haven’t reached out at all. Most people are still sharing hateful things that could get me hurt and they don’t care. Most people Reblogging my posts are still Jews. Because we are alone. And it sucks. You need to be as loud about antisemitism as you are about Palestine or you’re an antisemite (unless you’re Arab/Muslim/Palestinian—I totally get that these groups are also doing damage control in their own communities just like Jews are).

But we are all in tremendous pain right now.

This moment will pass. And when it does, I will remember how many people let me down. I will remember that when I needed support more than I’ve ever needed it in my life, people fucking vanished. They pretended violence against my people wasn’t happening. They ignored and rewrote the history of Israel to suit their own narratives.

You don’t know what it feels like to be hated this much for opposite things. PoC hate us for being too white. White supremacists hate us for not being white enough. Europeans hate us for being middle eastern. Middle easterners hate us for being western/European. Everyone hates us for being settlers but continually kicks us out of their countries so that we have to settle somewhere else.

I saw a post going around from a Black person who said that the reason he and his fellow black activists go protest for Palestinians instead of fighting antisemitism (as if it’s a binary, which it’s not) is that Jews don’t show up. Muslims and Palestinians do. And honestly? Fuck that guy. Heather Heyer died standing shoulder to shoulder against racism in 2017. [CORRECTION: When I first wrote this post I was under the impression that Heather Heyer was Jewish. I want to correct to avoid spreading misinfo. She was just the first (and incorrect) Jewish civil rights activist I thought of. However there are plenty of other actual Jewish civil rights activists to choose from. If you have reblogged this post from me, please feel free to add a link to the permalink version of this post with my correction to your reblog.]I have devoted substantial time and effort and money that I don’t even get paid a lot of because I don’t get paid a living wage. I have continually reached out to PoC people in my life of all religions to ask how they are doing and what I could be doing to help more—both for them personally and how they would best like me to help their community. I have elevated their voices at every opportunity. And not one person I checked in with has done the same for me or for my community.

And it’s bone chilling. It’s awful. And it’s even worse knowing that when it’s over, people will want to go back to normal. They won’t apologize. They won’t self reflect. They’ll just live their lives, maybe a little more aware of how much they hate us and completely indifferent to the harm they’ve caused us. How disposable they made us feel. And the thing is…it’s not hard for you to know. You just have to ask.

Too many people are cowards. Too many people care about looking good than actually learning something or making the world better. And to those people: you should be ashamed of yourself.

I don’t have any hate in my heart. Truly. Not a drop for any group of people. But I have a tremendous lack of trust that anyone would actually lift a finger to keep me safe.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #anti zionisim #I dare a goy to republic this challenge #goyim ID yourself in the tags if you reblog this #cuz i straight up don’t believe goyisch activists give a shit unless they straight up say they do #i’m not okay #honestly #this is the Nazi stuff I am most scared of #sure the Nazis rounded us up #but you fuckers were the ones who watched and did nothing #you’re the ones who voted the Nazis in #you’re the ones who didn’t stop them #fuck all y’all for real #i/p #israel #palestine #correction issued

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che444 · 7 months

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In order to change them, you must change YOU.

(Long post)

I have manifested many people back into my life: SPs , old friends, family member, people I wanted to be friends with but didn’t have the courage to ask to be friends. Literally anyone. But before I could invite them into my life, I had to go within.

When you’re manifesting someone, you must not only drop your old story but theirs as well. This was hard for me to understand at first because I had very strong negative emotions towards some people for what they did, and I chained them to those cinder blocks of mistakes and viewed them in that light forever.

I am one to hold a grudge, and sometimes they do some bs that makes them deserve it! You’re valid!

However, if you want a person back in your life under better circumstance you must remember several important things:

everything happens through you:

I am not blaming you for their behavior but what you must realize is that they have no choice but to continue to be the way that you ultimately view them. If you think your SP doesn’t want you, they will continue to not want you, because you are consumed in that thought and they only reflect you, you are god and they are your creation.

Process how they made you feel:

You’re never just going to let something go, sometimes people will hurt you, but in order to change the story surrounding them and how you view them you must process your feelings towards them. Write it down, talk to a close friend, whatever works for you.

You may come out of this not wanting them in your life and that is perfectly okay, you may decide you no longer want them and you want someone better and that’s okay! Manifest it baby!

Allow them to evolve and/or Allow yourself to have the version of them you want

If you want to access this new and improved version of them you must allow it to come in or it simply will not.

What I like to do is take myself out of the position of being the person who experienced them, and look at the raw emotions of it all, as God. I am not a religious person, however looking back on when I grew up Christian it definitely offered some interesting points that I believe helped in my journey.

If you are god and all your creation is made in your image, take a second to consider it you have ever done anything that may have caused hurt. Have you ever done anything that hurt someone? Have you ever related to feelings of jealousy or got really angry at someone? Most likely. Have you been forgiven and in turn changed to be better? There are many people who may still view you as the villain in their story but you have forgiven yourself and became anew, they could never put that on you now because of who you have evolved to become, right? Well, give this person a chance to evolve. You are the one writing the story, are you going to continue to make them the big bad wolf or are you going to let them be the knight in shining armor.

Now if this is about you not believing you deserve it, you need to start there. Why do you believe you are not worthy of your creation? Why do you believe you cannot have them or that they don’t want to be in your life? It may be that you don’t believe in love, or that you don’t believe you are worthy. Work on self concept and understand that you are everything and therefore everything is yours. From the trees to the moon, you are everything.

You can get a completely different version of them, you can completely revise an argument away, you could literally make them disappear. You can do anything! It’s your world.

Most importantly: LEAVE THE 3D ALONE

Sweetheart, if you are still maintaining the state that they hate you after saying affirmations for a day then immediately trying to text them, STOP. Start within, and the 3D has no choice but to follow. If you want to make up with them, go within, set the scene of making up with them in your head, say your affirmations, or whatever will give you the feeling that you seek. Once you reach that fulfillment within yourself, they have no choice but to reflect. Let them be who you want them to be, stop holding the old story over both of you, release it, and write a new story. Have faith in your story and have faith in you, and you will receive exactly what you want. Don’t worry about time, worry about you, time isn’t god, you are love.

P.S - don’t let anyone tell you that you shouldn’t manifest a better version of your ex or a person. You are god, why would you let anyone tell YOU what to do? Be fr.

Luv, che 🌺

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #self concept #manifestation #desired reality #manifest #shifting motivation #shifting realities #loa

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kookygobbledygook · 2 months

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Some people have been saying this, but I don't think it's been said enough and I'm just going to add my voice to the mix.

Nimona's nomination is being framed as an example of "Look at what Disney missed out on!" and I get it. It's a nice, tasty schadenfreude situation and we all like to see The Mouse get taken down a peg.

But I think we need to be very clear; Disney did not miss out on anything because they were never going to take that sort of risk.

Disney was never going to release anything close to the Nimona we got. It would have been sanded down until anything obviously queer or controversial was as faint and unnoticeable as possible by the casual viewer. And then they would still be too scared of any potential backlash. So they would have given the film a limited release at theatres, with no advertising, or social media or support.

Like what happened with Strange World.

You remember Strange World, right?

No?

That's because no one does.

And I believe that was deliberate, because that way Disney can go "Weeellll... obviously we would LOVEto take more risks and have more inclusive stories but that's clearly not what the public wants!"

Look at the original concepts for Wish. The evil royal couple? The peter-panesque star boy that would have made the gen zers go feral the same way millenials went feral for Jack Frost? These could have been the best things about the movie, and even they were scrapped, and replaced with something more homogenised. And those ideas are nowhere near the level of the concepts and discussions Nimona brought to the table.

Disney can barely have explicit gay people. Nimona has a gay south Asian man in a relationship with an east Asian man. As a protagonist! But more than that, you think Disney could ever come up with a relationship as complicated and difficult as Boldheart and Goldenloin's? They would never have the guts to show one love interest cutting off the other's arm in a straight relationship. Let alone a gay one! And then for them to be on opposite sides of the conflict, shifting between feelings of betrayal, and questioning each other motives? That's some adult dark shit for a kids film.

Asha as a character was forced into the quirky girl role that Disney has already flogged to death with Anna and Rapunzel. You ever think they would allow a Disney princess to be as dark and violent and nuanced as Nimona? You ever picture the titial character of a Disney film AS the third act conflict, rampaging through a city in a self destructive rage? Nimona is anti authoritarian, vengeful, bloodthirsty, a pretty explicit trans allegory, and even, by the climax, openly suicidal. You KNOW that terrified Disney.

I had a thing about the Director here too but I was shocked by how long that got so I'll have to save her for a different post.

My point is the things that make Nimona art, that make Nimona a great story, that make the film important and Oscar worthy, are all things that Disney has become too chicken shit to produce. If Disney had released a film called Nimona it wouldn't have been Nimona. I fully believe that if the film hadn't had been 90% finished it wouldn't have been shelved. It would have been lobotomised and vivisected. Everything special and vital about the movie and its message would have been removed, and no one would have known what could have been. Once again we would have gotten scraps and been thankful for them.

It makes me think about films like Wish (and others we don't know the name of, and never will) and think of what they could have been if studio's like Disney were braver and let their artists make art, instead of content.

tl;dr Disney didn't miss out on Nimona because they are incapable of making Nimona. If they had produced it the real Nimona wouldn't exist. We didn't miss out on Nimona. And that's purely by luck.

#nimona #disney critical #wish critical

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sayuri-of-the-valley · 8 months

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On how Crowley and Aziraphale's dynamic shifted in s2:

Okay so I was inspired by this lovely post by @rebeccasteventaylor which I couldn't find the link to in order to reblog directly, but if anyone has a link to it pls I'd love to put it here:

Anyway, while I absolutely 100% agree with @rebeccasteventaylor 's meta, I have to point out that s2 shifted it a little. Especially for Aziraphale.

We don't see him looking away trying to hide his heart eyes anymore as he used to do in s1 (we all remember the "smitten" scene, only to cite ONE). Compare the little breath of lust from the Bastille (when he looks away twice) to the "don't hesitate to ask me if you have any questions about love" one.

In s2, he touches Crowley like crazy. He touches his chest, his hand, his back, asks him to dance, gives him a whole ass cotillion ball.

He was deliberately and explicitly pursuing Crowley this season. If s1 was all Crowley pursuing Aziraphale, s2 was all Aziraphale pursuing Crowley.

And Crowley seemed to either not notice or not acknowledge that Aziraphale was doing that (the way he said Aziraphale only has 3 reasons to call him still drives me crazy. Crowley ffs those were ALL the reasons there is to call someone. He's ALWAYS thinking of calling YOU).

I think Crowley was afraid. Probably for the same reason he never told Aziraphale he was homeless. Which is sad and kinda doesn't make sense at first bc this is all Crowley has ever wanted, right?

Until we remember the last time Crowley let himself love and be loved freely, he was cast away (yes, the Fall). He lost everything bc he wasn't worthy according to some crazy criteria. Apparently he doesn't even know what he DID exactly.

I wonder if Crowley thinks he's not worthy of Aziraphale. I wonder if that's why he refused to see their love for centuries until Nina threw it at his face (Nina LITERALLY doing the Lord's work). I wonder if he's afraid of loving and letting himself be loved and then losing it again. Afraid of daring to ASK and losing everything. Again.

And Crowley wasn't *happy* this season, even with their freedom. I wonder if Aziraphale was mistakenly arriving at the conclusion that he was not enough to make Crowley happy. That him alone would never make Crowley smile the way he did when creating nebulae.

These 4 years were breathing space between the two "wars", according to Crowley himself in s1. And I think Crowley doesn't deal well with their relationship in a calm environment. He only knows how to make grand gestures, and heroic rescues, and go fast and act on impulse because then he doesn't have to THINK. Once he needs to sit down and make a commitment (telling Aziraphale he's homeless for ex), he just STOPS, he can't.

Aziraphale was the opposite. The calmness without any danger was giving him all the space he needed to act on his feelings, while the sense of danger always made him enter denial mode (which ironically seemed to be Crowley's mode in s2).

Of course they still need to put a name on what they are and stop pretending, Nina was absolutely right (and Crowley did catch up on that faster in those last 15min), maybe Aziraphale was still lacking this bit even if he was pursuing Crowley, but we can't deny that until those last 15min the "us" was coming from Aziraphale.

It's sad to realise that unconsciously, without even noticing, Crowley was rejecting Aziraphale almost the whole season.

UNTIL suddenly there's a huge problem, a desperate situation and he wants to abandon everything, take Aziraphale and run away again! (his original plan wasn't even to run away, it was to go to the Ritz). And who can blame him after what happened when he Fell? The Fall was totally unexpected, nobody even knew that could HAPPEN.

Crowley doesn't think himself worthy of Aziraphale (he's UNFORGIVABLE!), and Aziraphale doesn't think he's enough to make Crowley TRULY unashamedly happy and carefree.

And they're BOTH immensely WRONG ofc, we can all see it. They're each other's WORLD.

But they just assume stuff and never ASK, never TALK (bc well, it was literally dangerous before, I get it, their communication issues don't come from nowhere). That's why they have different perspectives on how to fix their situation in the end.

And btw I have to add we can't ignore Crowley was opening himself more too, always taking off his glasses when he was at the Bookshop for example. Ironically he was just a bit slower than Aziraphale for once. All that ofc until those last 15min, when they both change back to their old behaviours (makes me want to bang my forehead onto a wall).

I do believe they'd get there if the Metatron hadn't intervened (interesting that he chose this *exact* moment), especially after that little push from Maggie and Nina (for Crowley) and ofc brielzebub (for Aziraphale) that was gonna make them BOTH confess their feelings.

Anyway, bottom line, fuck the Metatron.

This is also a thread on Twitter :D

#good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #my meta #renew good omens #shift in dynamics #aziraphale pursuing crowley #crowley's denial

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wave2tyun · 2 months

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killshot | ☆

pairing: taehyun x fem!reader

genre: spy!au, enemies to lovers, fake dating, slow burn, suggestive, a bit of fluff and angst

summary: your life seemed to have taken a turn for the worse the minute kang taehyun stepped foot into the spy agency you worked at. wanting to take on a challenge to prove yourself worthy of the top position, your plans were turned upside down with his addition to the mission. you didn’t think things could get any worse, until they stated one clear, mandatory condition: the two of you had to pretend you were a couple.

warnings: lots of swearing, alcohol consumption, the reader gets tipsy (twice), mentions of death, guns and bombs (there’s nothing explicit though), the presence of an annoying drunk man | let me know if i missed something!!

word count: 9.7k

a/n: this was just a silly little idea that i got during a car drive asdbfhj whenever i repost fics i always kind of get the urge to say "omg this was one of my favorite fics to write" - i think it's because i end up getting so attached to the little universes that i create and then look back on them fondly; with this one, i really really mean it when i say those words (maybe because it's also longer). when i first posted it i actually felt like i gave birth cause it got SO MUCH LONGER than i anticipated ASBHJDS

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

"no."

"hear me out-"

"i'm not hearing anybody out. i'm doing this alone- just like we intended from the start" you hissed.

"y/n, we went over this already" irene pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing "the enemy has changed their plan of action, so we need to change it too. it's not safe for you to go alone anymore"

"that i can understand. but him-" you pointed an accusatory finger to the man in front of you “why does he need to be involved in this? there have to be other suitable agents for this mission”

“trust me, darling, if i could do this alone, i would” he replied bitterly, rolling his eyes.

“listen you two- these orders came directly from the head office. they want you to work on this, not anybody else- and there’s nothing that i can do to change this.” irene crossed her arms. she was completely tired of the way you were both behaving- just like two kids continuously throwing sand in each other’s eyes.

“fine.” you gave in, biting your tongue and swallowing your pride. there was no use being stubborn if the head office was involved, the best thing you could do in this situation was to choose being the bigger person.

irene raised an eyebrow at taehyun, waiting for his response as well.

“fine-“ he repeated after you, throwing daggers towards your direction. you were glad to know the feeling of disgust was mutual.

“finally” irene exclaimed, letting out a big sigh “took you long enough. here’s the modified plan papers. remember- there’s no way i’m allowing you to back out anymore”

you took the small stack of papers from her hands, skimming through the text. gather the gadgets and weapons, bla bla bla, disarm the bomb hidden at the event, bla bla bla, protect france’s president, bla bla bla, disguise yourself as a couple- wait.

“are you fucking kidding me- am i reading this right?” you spat out, eyes almost popping out at the sight. you went over the passage again and again, hoping that you had simply misread it- but there it was, black ink on white paper, the word written clear as day: “couple”

irene massaged her temples with her hands “in order for this mission to be carried out with ease, we need you to act as a cou-“

“no” you both said in unison, cutting her off.

you side-eyed taehyun, somehow feeling offended that he also declined the proposal right away. you knew you had your reasons to not accept that condition- but why was he saying “no”?

kang fucking taehyun- his name alone felt like poison on your tongue.

but it wasn’t like your hatred towards him was unjustified- in fact, you couldn't remember if there was even one second- let alone one day- where him just breathing didn’t make you feel like plotting murder. one day, he just strutted into the agency, acting like he owned the place. he was quick to gain respect from his superiors, his charms alone making it easier for him to receive more complicated missions- and better equipment. you being mad was an understatement. why? just because he was a man, he had it all easy. he has been in the agency for just one year, and he has already surpassed you in ranks, all of the hard work you’ve been putting in for years going down the drain.

you’ve been relentlessly trying to regain your honorable place in the agency. kang taehyun was quick to catch on to your little act, and he wasn’t one to back off easily either- resulting in the two of you being at each other’s necks every second. you viewed this mission as what could have possibly been ‘your redemption arc’. the universe somehow always found a way to get him involved in your business. but this time, you weren’t gonna let him steal your spotlight- not again. you needed to find a way to secure the number one place in rankings like you used to, and you were willing to do whatever it took to feel that glory one more time, even if that meant cooperating with the kang taehyun.

“if you die, i’ll kill you” you hissed.

“big words coming from someone who stands on a chair to reach the top shelves” he fought back, unfazed by your threat. your mouth opened at this accusation, when did he even catch you doing that?

“you piece of-“

“enough” irene sighed, moving to stand between the two of you “you’re gonna bring back my migraines if you keep on acting like that. can’t you treat each other as normal people do? just this once- please? you’re only making this harder for yourselves”

you sighed, rubbing the nape of your neck. irene was a sweetheart, she didn’t deserve to be the victim of your petty fight “when do we have to start?”

her eyes seemed to light up a bit, relieved by your change in attitude “as soon as possible” she skimmed through her notes again “the earliest flight is in 3 days- how about it?”

“that’s okay for me” you said. you silently glanced over at taehyun, who rolled his eyes, uncrossing his arms “guess i’m in too”.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

5 hours.

that was the amount of time you had to endure sitting next to taehyun on the flight. you could handle this, you tried to tell yourself. you’ve been in much worse situations during some of your missions. in the end, it didn’t necessarily mean that the two of you had to interact during that time. you could just sleep the whole flight away and not have to exchange a word with taehyun once.

wrong.

kang taehyun just seemed to love seeing you suffer, in any way, shape or form. it had you seriously contemplating whether he was some kind of sadist. you thought you could at least go through check in and security without any unpleasant incidents happening, but you were wrong- so painfully wrong.

you arrived two hours early to the airport, wanting to get done with the whole process as fast as possible then hide from taehyun at the food court until it was time for you to board the plane. however, two minutes after you took your place in the check-in line, your peace was disrupted.

“you’re early- were you that eager to see me, sweetheart?”

your eye was twitching at the sound of the nickname. you didn’t even have to turn your head to the right to know who was next to you.

“why did it have to be you here at this hour?” you grumbled.

“crazy- it’s almost as if we’re on the same flight” he rolled his eyes “don’t even think about going to the back of the line- we have the same last name on the tickets so we shouldn’t go separately anyway”

you loosened your grip on the suitcase and bit your cheek, it was like he knew your exact thoughts at the moment. the whole thing was all too corny for you- why did the company have to change your name and give you new documents? just because you were ‘a couple’ didn’t mean that you had to be married as well.

security didn’t exactly go smooth either- as if the whole process wasn’t already stressful enough. you should have been suspicious the moment taehyun let you sit in front of him at the line. at that moment, you just brushed it off and thought nothing of it, but when the metal detector went off as you were walking through- that’s when it all clicked.

that little fucker slipped one of his rings in your pocket.

a string of unholy words was running wildly in your mind as the security patted you down to search for any suspicious items. you wished you could jump on him and wipe that grin off his face. he somehow felt the need to embarrass you even further once the ring had been found. he put on a charming smile as he rubbed the nape of his neck, looking up at the security lady “so sorry for my wife- she tends to be quite clumsy, i told her before to check well before walking away from me”

the lady melted down in an instant, letting out a bunch of ‘it’s okay’ before handing you back the ring. he felt the need to make such a scene and for what? to feed his ego? you didn’t bother to wait until he was through with security as well. you gathered your things from the tray as fast as you could, storming past all the other people to get further away from him.

you browsed all the shops (sometimes even hiding in the dressing rooms) until you couldn’t avoid taehyun any longer. you didn’t talk to him once you met up again, even though you knew that it didn’t affect him anyway. nonetheless, taehyun ensured that your day would have a cherry on top- by stealing the one and only window seat.

and you?

you made sure to spill your water on him during turbulence.

that seemed to be enough to make him stop bothering you throughout the flight. he slept away as you played sudoku on your phone, too paranoid to fall asleep yourself in case he would wake up with new ideas in mind.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

after making sure that your bag smacked taehyun’s head when you took it from the upper storage, you both went to retrieve your luggage then headed out to find a taxi and go to your accommodation.

valets, chandeliers, grand paintings adoring the walls, the hotel seemed quite fancy. you weren’t really used to this kind of treatment from your agency, it was the least they could do for all the headaches you were going to endure throughout the mission.

the receptionist handed you the small paper sleeve containing the key cards. you furrowed your brows as you opened it, peering inside. there were 2 cards in there, but for the exact same hotel room. you instantly expressed your confusion “why is there just one r-“ taehyun kicked your foot, continuing to smile at the receptionist as you bit your tongue to hold back a scream. ��is there anything else i can help you with?” she inquired.

“i’m pretty sure that’s it, thank you” taehyun answered before you could open your mouth to speak. he took hold of your arm, flashing the receptionist another fake smile before dragging you along with him towards the elevator.

“don’t touch me” you broke free from his grip “what the hell was that about?”

taehyun pressed the floor number on the keypad “are you that fucking dense? he sighed exasperatedly “we’re a couple- remember? we need to act like one, so stop having these unnecessary slip-ups”

‘stupid cover’ you cursed in your mind the person who had been in charge for outlining the plans for your mission. out of all the possible lies they could have made you hold on to- this is what they went for. it was almost like they did this on purpose to annoy you.

ding.

you took hold of your suitcase again, following behind taehyun as you searched for your room “besides- the hotel isn’t scruffy this time, their budget seems to be pretty high for once. so, they might have booked us a suite, not just a single room” he continued, trudging the door open.

your feet were frozen, not moving an inch from the doorway “taehyun- this is not a fucking suite” you snarled, slowly turning your head in his direction.

“why are you talking as if it’s my fault?” taehyun snapped back. he entered the room, bumping his shoulders against yours as you refused to go further in.

“well if you hadn’t been so quick to silence me at the reception- maybe this wouldn’t have been a problem” you pushed your suitcase in, putting your hands on your hips.

“and risk blowing our cover? yeah- what a great plan that would have been” he huffed.

“there’s no way i’m sharing a bed with you” you hissed

“don’t worry- it’s not a pleasure for me either sweetheart. it’s either sleeping on the floor- or with me. your choice”

taehyun didn’t seem like he would ever consider giving up his spot on the bed- but neither did you. you weren’t going to settle for back pain as he snored away on the soft mattress.

so, you laid down on the bed, as far away as you could from taehyun. you were sitting so close to the edge that you were on the verge of falling off, but you couldn't even stand the mere thought of being in such close proximity to him. the thought of his arm touching yours made your skin crawl.

yet, despite breathing in the same room as taehyun, you somehow managed to get what was probably the best sleep of your life. keeping your eyes closed just for one moment more, you held the blanket closer to you, enjoying the warmth it provided, snuggling your face deeper into the pillow beneath you. but the pillow wasn't as soft as you remembered when you put your head down to sleep last night. instead, it was hard, and somehow hot to the touch. confused, you brought a hand up and pressed down on it, slightly squeezing it, then removed it as if you had just gotten burnt when you were met with the feeling of bare skin on skin.

"if you wanted to touch me that badly you could have just asked, love" a raspy voice came from beneath you.

"what the fuck-" you shouted as you got up and finally opened your eyes. you squinted as you adjusted to the bright light coming from the sun.

kang taehyun was sitting right next to you, bare chest exposed and a playful smirk plastered on his face.

"how did we- when did you even take your shirt off?"

"are you always this loud in the morning?" he asked, ignoring your questions. his hair was a ruffled mess, slightly puffy face indicating that he hadn't been awake for that long either.

you still looked at him expectingly, waiting for him to answer. he huffed, rolling his eyes "you snuggled with your burning limbs close to me as you slept. i got overwhelmingly hot so i took off my shirt. there- simple as that"

"why didn't you just push me off or something" you asked. it wasn’t typical for him to act like this.

what taehyun said was indeed the truth. he couldn’t stand you- yes, but he wasn’t an asshole. he couldn’t find it in him to wake you up or pry you off him, as he didn’t want to wake up in the morning to you being groggy. therefore, he was left with only one option: enduring it.

pushing your question aside once more, taehyun got up from the bed, stretching as he made his way to the bathroom, he stopped right before getting past the door to speak "did you know you talk in your sleep? you seemed to enjoy it, i didn't want to ruin the fun for you." he snickered, disappearing into the other room.

you stood there with your jaw hanging, unable to form any kind of comeback to argue. was there even a way to recover from that? when you heard the shower running, you took a pillow from the bed, burying your face into it and silently screaming. you wanted to dig a hole for yourself at least 20 meters underground.

after regaining your composure, you got ready so that you and taehyun could get started on today’s task: gathering the necessary weapons and equipment. irene informed you about some namjoon guy they had a contract with. he apparently sold any kind of gear you would ever need for a mission: from smoke bombs to lethal poison- he had it all. you went to the outskirts of the city searching for a shabby cabin (not suspicious at all), the storage hidden away in an underground system there.

“are you sure this is the right place?” you asked taehyun, eyeing the old rusty door. the whole place just screamed ‘murder’, how exactly did your agency even come to find out about the guy? maybe you didn’t want to know.

“the coordinates match up with what irene sent us- so yeah, probably. try not to hold my hand if you’re so scared” he chuckled.

you ignored his childish remark, going past him to open the heavy door. the inside didn’t match up with the exterior, it was surprisingly warm and cozy. a man with purple hair and a black dress shirt was sitting on an armchair, book in hand. you assumed it was namjoon.

“oh- hello?” you didn’t exactly know how to approach him, you felt bad for barging in without even knocking.

his eyes glanced up from the book “ah” he got up “finally, i was worried irene didn’t send you the right location” he flashed you a dimpled smile. for a man who owned over one thousand weapons, you didn’t expect him to be this...cute?

taehyun bit his cheek “so you’re namjoon?”

“yes, and i already know who you two are. come on- follow me”

namjoon lead you towards an elevator, hidden away from curious eyes in a crowded closet. the ride down seemed almost endless, but that’s how it needed to be. if one single gunshot could be heard from the surface, his entire business could risk being destroyed.

“i’ve got a couple of things for you to try, as well as some accessories irene asked me to give you” namjoon put down a box on a table. it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary- laser pen, tracking devices, coat button cameras, the usual. the guns weren’t exactly essential for your mission, they were more of a safety precaution. either way, you still had to practice using them.

getting into the designated practice area, you and taehyun each had a target to hit. you needed at least 5 good shots in a row to be deemed skilled enough for the weapon. taehyun’s first try was perfect, meanwhile yours barely hit the target.

“seems like someone’s rusty”

“beginner’s luck” you mumbled.

giving it another go, you ended up with the same result. the exact thing happened the 3rd try as well. you frowned, it wasn’t usually like this for you, and taehyun’s cocky smirk only made your blood boil further.

“nervous?” he chuckled

“i’m just warming up- i need to get used to it” you got back into your shooting stance, putting your finger on the trigger.

“take your time, darling, hell’s happy to wait for you”

you missed again.

“can you just shut up for one fucking minute?” you huffed. you didn’t want to let taehyun get to you, but even when he didn’t open his mouth to speak you could still hear his voice in your mind, mocking you.

“i can give you something else if you want to-“ namjoon tried to help, not knowing he only angered you further.

“i need him out of sight- not another weapon” you quickly dismissed him “can i get a private practice room?”

“practicing in private won’t fix your lack of talent” you heard taehyun whisper.

if looks could kill, taehyun would be on the floor the second those words left his mouth “if i point this gun towards your direction i’ll make sure that it won’t be a miss” you fumed.

namjoon was clearly taken aback by the tension in the room. desperate to diffuse the situation, he kindly asked taehyun to look around the other areas as you practiced a few more rounds with him.

you felt bad for the guy, he was a victim to yet another one of your fights with taehyun. you kept the rest of your interactions with him short, wanting to get back to the hotel as soon as possible.

“look- i’ll buy you ice cream, will that make it better?” taehyun asked exasperatedly.

“i’m not a fucking child” you snarled. the only thing up until now that taehyun had managed to do successfully was ridiculing you- and you were fed up with it. did he think that some ice cream was going to erase all those embarrassing moments he had been putting you through?

“well what do you want me to do then?” he sighed.

“i don’t know- maybe stop acting like an asshole? like you’re better than me?”

taehyun stopped the car on the side of the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder “i’m not acting like an asshole” he turned his head to look at you.

“yes, you are- you did that the whole day and you are doing that right now” you said in utter disbelief. his snarky attitude was tipping you over.

“get out” he spoke firmly, breaking eye contact with you.

“what?”

taehyun didn’t know how much longer he could be with you in the car without losing his temper even more “i said get out” he repeated once again, closing his eyes “go on and find the way to the hotel yourself”

“fine” you scoffed. you grabbed your purse and slammed the car door as hard as you could once you got out of the vehicle. taehyun wasted no time getting back on the road. finally, he could breathe again.

“jerk” you screamed. what a great time to wear heels this was. you made your way to the side walk, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hands as you looked around, trying to recall any familiar surroundings. with every step you took, it felt like your foot was pressed into a hot piece of lego. you had been wearing those damn heels all day, and now the agonising pain was finally starting to kick in.

taehyun couldn’t help but constantly steal glances at you from the rearview mirror, watching as you struggled to walk without your feet wobbling. sighing, he waited until he could take a turn to go back and pick you up. maybe you weren’t the only one that acted like a kid.

getting back to the same spot he just left you at barely 2 minutes ago, taehyun stopped the car. yet you weren’t anywhere to be found. he got out to search the area better- nothing.

“shit” he mumbled under his breath.

taehyun couldn’t stay still as he waited for you to return. of course, he got to the hotel faster because of the car, but what was taking you so long to arrive? the thought of him ruining the mission because of a petty fight was tormenting his mind. he didn’t want to lose his job at the agency because of you. he kept on walking back and forth from the couch to the door, looking through the peephole for any sign of you coming down the hallway. and just as he was about to check again, for probably the 30th time that night, he heard knocking on the door. it was you- it had to be you. after all, the only other room key had remained with him, and there was no way someone else would disturb him at this ungodly hour.

taehyun cleared his voice, erasing any sign of worry on his face before opening the door, apology already on the tip of his tongue.

"y/n, i'm sorry-" taehyun spoke as soon as he saw you in the doorway, reaching his hand out to take your purse.

"fuck off" you spat out, slapping his hand away from you. you went straight to the bathroom and locked the door, not in the mood to hear any of his excuses. you stood with your back against the door, burying your face in your hands. you felt so tired and sick of having to deal with taehyun’s attitude. but you weren't gonna let him be the one to steal the spotlight from your mission- not again.

taehyun sighed heavily in front of the door, putting his hand down from knocking, choosing to simply let you be for a while. you had all the right to be mad, and he knew that.

you took a shower to cool off, refusing to look taehyun in the eyes, or even in his direction at all, as you got ready to go to sleep.

taehyun put his finger on the lamp's button, letting out those words that had been bugging him all night "just so you know- i did go back for you today, but i couldn't find you anymore. maybe that's gonna convince you that i really meant it when i said sorry" taehyun flicked off the light, huffing, pitch black darkness taking over the room.

you stayed silent, with your back turned to him, still too stubborn to accept his apology. 'he just wants to go to bed with a clean conscience' you tried to convince yourself. ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

you were grateful to have woken up with your own personal space, unlike your first night there. taehyun wasn’t even on his side of the bed, the sound of the water running indicating that he had already beat you to the bathroom. you turned over to the side, ready to enjoy those few minutes of peace.

“huh” you brought a hand to your face, feeling something on your forehead. it was a sticky note. you rubbed your eyes, trying to make sense of what was written on the small piece of paper.

‘there’s ice cream in the freezer’

“what...” you mumbled, how did ice cream have anything to do with- oh.

you fought back a chuckle. so, the great taehyun couldn’t find the strength to own up to his actions and say the words ‘sorry’ a second time. still, you accepted his silent apology, going over to the freezer to get your hands on the sweet treat. how could you ever say no to something free?

taehyun got out of the bathroom as you still nibbled on the ice cream sandwich, the steam and heat instantly invading the room. you looked up from the piece of food in your hand, almost dropping it once your eyes laid on him. taehyun sat in the middle of the room, chest and sculpted abs on full display with a few water droplets adoring his skin from his still dripping hair.

“what are you blushing for? it’s not the first time you’re seeing me like this” he smirked.

“idiot- it’s the heat. your shower transformed the room into a whole sauna” you meekly tried to defend yourself, not wanting to give him any satisfaction. you cursed your cheeks for reacting like this well before your mind could even comprehend the situation.

“oh- so you’re talking to me again. i take it you forgive me?” he leaned against the door.

“don’t get ahead of yourself kang taehyun” you scoffed “it’s gonna take more than just an ice cream for me to fully forgive you”

“i know, you did tell me yesterday that ‘you’re not a child’. just thought it might sweeten that sour attitude of yours” he huffed.

“whatever- let me get changed, then we’ll get in touch with irene” you said as you walked over to your suitcase to grab some clean clothes.

“i already talked to her. she said there’s nothing we have to do for the day. we just need to wait for the big event tomorrow.”

“huh- you talked to her? when?” you raised your eyebrows at him. you could swear you hadn’t heard a single sound all morning.

“yeah- while you were busy snoring” he chuckled.

you scoffed at his reply “as if you’re a saint while you’re sleeping” there he went again with his ridiculous accusations.

“well- unlike you, i haven’t received any complaints from others” he winked at you.

“really? then here’s your first one- you’re loud as hell” you slammed the bathroom door. that wink and his cocky grin were enough to bring back the annoyance he always seemed to provoke within you.

taehyun loudly knocked as you were busy brushing your teeth “how long are you gonna stay in there? i have something to ask”

you rolled your eyes, taking the toothbrush out of your mouth to reply “i’ll be out in 5 minutes” you shouted back. you didn’t know whether it was curiosity or fear taking over you from his words.

taehyun was still in front of the door when you opened it to get out.

“wanna take advantage of the activities here? it’s not like we’re paying for any of this- the agency is. plus- we have the day off anyway” taehyun shrugged his shoulders. his proposal didn’t sound bad at all. you could definitely use some sort of relaxation, your whole body was still aching from walking in heels yesterday.

you put your hands over your mouth, gasping exaggeratedly “finally, i can’t believe there’s good ideas coming out of your mouth” you were actually excited for once about one of taehyun’s suggestions. this was your chance to detach yourself from all the stress, the mission, and most importantly- him.

“when do i not have good ideas?” taehyun brought a hand to his chest. he sounded offended by your statement.

“i’m not going to answer that.” you replied shortly.

grabbing your bathrobes from the reception, you and taehyun headed towards the hotel’s spa facility. the area was filled with all sorts of natural plants and bamboo furniture, the meditation music being accompanied by the quiet sound from the mini artificial waterfall in the middle of it all. having such a packed schedule all the time, you never got any opportunities to spoil yourself in places like this. the anticipation and excitement were making your heart bubble up with joy, but your smile quickly dropped once you arrived in the massage room.

“taehyun, why didn’t you mention the hotel activities being couple activities” you hissed. standing in the doorway, you looked in terror at the swarm of lovey dovey pairs sitting on yoga mats in front of you.

“did you think i made the proposal knowing that?” he scoffed.

“well i can’t seem to understand how you overlooked such a major detail??”

“listen- the poster said couple massages. how the hell was i supposed to know that they’re making us do the work for each other? i just thought we’d both get a massage done at the same time”

“you must be the kangs, welcome” the host greeted you “come on, sit down. we were just getting started with a simple shoulder massage” she pointed to the last empty mat in the room, then motioned for you to begin.

taehyun’s eyelids fluttered shut as you awkwardly placed your hands on his shoulders, the material of the robe doing almost nothing to hide the feeling of the rock hard muscles underneath. you grimaced as you pressed your fingers down, trying to reminisce the movements you’d use while preparing pizza dough.

“you’re doing it wrong” he deadpanned, opening his eyes to make direct eye contact with you.

“shut the hell up”

you didn’t know what you were doing- yes. but were you going to admit that to taehyun? absolutely not. rolling your eyes, you continued to clumsily massage the tense muscles.

“i can’t feel a goddamn thing” he complained again.

“how about now?” you pinched his skin between your thumb and your index finger, using as much pressure as you could. taehyun’s face distorted in pain as he crumbled beneath you “for fuck’s sake-“ he grabbed your wrists, stopping you from provoking him even more suffering “how are you so bad at this?”

frustrated, you moved your hands away from his body “if you think you’re that great, why don’t you give it a shot?”

“i will give it a shot” he snarled.

the host approached the two of you just as taehyun placed his hands on you “what a lovely couple” she smiled. nudging taehyun, she whispered one more thing before walking away “remember, use your hands gently, like you’re touching the most delicate petal”

taehyun’s ears turned a bright shade of red at the sound of that. he bit his lip so hard trying not to laugh at her words, you were surprised he didn’t end up drawing blood.

“close your eyes, petal” he snickered.

you snorted at the nickname, doing as he said regardless. taehyun’s hands were surprisingly warm. he did his best mimicking the actions from the couples around you, his long slender fingers massaging your muscles with such care, you could feel all the built-up tension melting away.

“wait- this is kinda nice” you spoke quietly.

“told you so”

you hoped taehyun wouldn’t catch that, but of course, he did. you opened one eye, tempted to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. getting ahold of yourself, you chose not to, you never knew when taehyun would treat you this nicely again. you sighed, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling. this was the least he could do to pay you back for all the headaches he had caused you so far throughout the mission.

you did make a few other attempts to give taehyun a massage, but even with the host’s instructions, he was never satisfied. in the end, he gave up, preferring to do all the work himself instead of letting you touch him again. he probably left the spa room feeling more tense than when he had arrived, the only thing bringing him some sort of consolation being the free bottle of wine at the end of the lesson- which he opened as soon as you came back to your hotel room.

after getting changed, you sat down next to taehyun on the bed, noticing only one wine filled glass on the table “aren’t you gonna share that?”

“after all the pain i’ve went through today? don’t think so” he replied before taking a sip of the crimson beverage.

“don’t be a jerk” you snapped back “i tried my best”

taehyun sighed heavily, grabbing the other clean glass in the room to pour you some of the wine. you muttered a quick ‘thanks’ before taking it from his hands, downing the liquid almost immediately.

“what the fuck are you doing” he grabbed your wrist “take it easy- our mission is tomorrow, i don’t think you want to wake up with a headache” there was a hint of worry hidden in his stern voice.

“a bit more won’t hurt- i just want to sleep well tonight” you replied. your hand was already reaching for the bottle to pour another one. taehyun simply rolled his eyes, hoping that you’d stop after the seccond glass. yet- you repeated your actions, downing the glass and going for the bottle right after. this time, taehyun snatched it away from your hands and hid it behind the bed.

“don’t ruin the fun-“ you furrowed your brows “just give me the bottle”

you stood up, towering over taehyun as you extended your arm. he wasn’t expecting you to put up such a fight, but his reflexes were sharp- he took hold of your arm quickly, making you lose your balance and stumble over him. his hand came down to your waist to hold you as you landed in his lap, not allowing you to slip away anymore. you looked at him with wide eyes, your loud heartbeat drumming against his chest. “don’t make me repeat myself” he muttered.

“or what?” you provoked him further. your eyes shifted their focus on his lips, sitting centimeters apart from yours. you had never paid attention before to how soft they looked- so soft and rosy, your mind couldn’t help but wander off and think about how they would feel on yours. taehyun seemed to become nervous underneath your gaze, his breathing became ragged, hand gripping your waist slightly tighter. he licked his lips before moving his face closer to yours, yet still not enough to fully close the gap. your eyelids fluttered shut, and he smirked at your action, his thumb coming to graze your lower lip slowly.

“or you might just make me lose myself completely” he breathed out. his gaze was still fixated on your lips, only tempting him further to give in, to let go of everything that had been holding him back until now from accepting that it wasn’t hatred he felt upon seeing you, or even hearing your name. he had been convinced that you hating him meant that he was supposed to feel the same, but he couldn’t- and he could barely even fake it anymore. especially now, when you somehow managed to completely break down his guard in mere seconds. thinking this through, taehyun chose to back away. he didn’t have the confirmation whether it was your actual feelings leading your actions, or just the alcohol in your system.

he cleared his throat, removing his hands from your body and putting that usual cold façade back on “like i’ve said, our mission is tomorrow. you should probably go to bed” his eyes didn’t meet yours when you opened them to look at him again.

your gaze shifted to the floor, you were unable to hide the underlying disappointment in your voice “yeah- you’re right”. you hesitated a bit before finally separating yourself from him, the warmth of his body gone just as the excitement that was beginning to take over your heart. you put your head down on the pillow, the sound of more wine getting poured in a glass being heard as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・ "your tie is lopsided, let me fix that" you walked over to taehyun. there was just one hour left until the event started. the atmosphere in the room was suffocating, to say the least.

taehyun scoffed upon hearing that "i can definitely do a better job than you" yet, he didn't make any movement to stop you from touching him or his clothes “everything is just a competition for you… isn’t it?” you said bitterly, your eyes were fixated on his chest, his tie in your hand.

“isn’t it for you, too?” taehyun asked. he immediately regretted his question, the words seemed to roll off his tongue as an automatic response. he peered into your eyes, although he was hesitant to hear your answer. you paused for a moment before continuing, refusing to look up and meet his gaze "maybe i don't want it to be anymore"

you went back to the mirror, trying to look busy as you "fixed" your makeup, although you had already ensured it was perfect with each step you did.

taehyun didn't say anything to that. it wasn't the time he could let himself be swayed by his emotions. you were both at the peak of your mission, where high attention was demanded and no mistakes were allowed to be made. he cleared his throat before speaking, trying to change the conversation from the sensitive topic "you look good" "thanks" you looked down, playing a bit more with the lipstick in your hand before stuffing it in your purse "we should go" "yeah- we should" he repeated after you, grabbing the spare card for your hotel room.

the entire venue was filled with well-known people from the political field, as well as celebrities. the event had been long planned to celebrate the president’s birthday. however, he started to have a rising suspicion that someone was after him, wanting to backstab him so that they could steal his position, which is how you got into the play. your team was able to pinpoint the enemy’s plan of action due to their sloppy preparation. they talked freely around Élysée Palace about their intention, completely unaware of the mics hidden all around the building. they were going to infiltrate the office and place a bomb there, wiping out the president without putting themselves at much risk.

being nervous was an understatement. it’s been long since you’ve been assigned such an important mission- way too long. the fact that you didn’t know whether you were going to make direct contact with the enemy didn’t help either.

taehyun seemed to be glued to your side, not letting you go once. he held you by the waist the whole time you were walking around, searching for your table. his eyes were trained on you, not allowing the disgusting rich men in the room to think that they can lay a finger on you, not even for one second.

“why do you keep on holding me so close?” you wondered aloud.

“we need to act like a couple- did you forget that again?”

“that doesn’t mean i’m not allowed to walk on my own” you said trying to break yourself free yourself from his grip. but taehyun stopped you before you could fully do so, he grabbed your wrist, bringing your back flushed against his chest. he dipped down to whisper in your ear “sweetheart, let’s not make a scene now- shall we?” he twirled you around, swaying your body to the rhythm of the music to disguise your actions as natural.

“now- let’s discuss. when do you want to put our plan into action?” he leaned down to whisper once again. his voice sent shivers down your spine.

“not yet- we haven’t been here for long and leaving so early would raise suspicion” you muttered.

“then- how about a drink?” taehyun brought you closer, not breaking eye contact with you.

you nodded “a drink sounds good” just like the ‘massage’, there was no way you could turn down something you didn’t have to pay for yourself.

taehyun spun you around once more before heading off to the bar. you continued the search for your table, settling down on one of the chairs as you waited for him.

“what is a princess like you doing all alone?” a sleazy man approached you, reeking of sweat and alcohol. your senses were instantly on high alert, you were praying that taehyun wouldn’t take much longer to return.

“i’m not alone- i’m just waiting for someone” you tried to dismiss him, hoping that he would walk away and leave you alone. but a man’s confidence seems to skyrocket when they drink, so of course, he didn’t back down so easily.

“say, why won’t you have a drink with me while you wait?” his hand was in motion, inching closer to touch your shoulder. it abruptly stopped upon hearing a voice from behind him.

“i’m afraid i’ve already taken care of that, sir” taehyun settled down the drinks on the table before occupying the empty chair next to you. he noticed from far away how uncomfortable you looked and he rushed to get back to you, almost spilling the drinks in the process.

he placed one of his hands on your knee, trying to give the man a subtle hint that he should give up and leave you alone.

“i’m sure one more drink wouldn’t hurt? right, miss?” he continued.

taehyun clicked his tongue, increasingly annoyed by his presence “i’m pretty sure it would, though”

the man’s smile was wiped off his face as soon as taehyun said that, his hand gripped his bottle of beer tighter “why won’t you let her answer, hm?”

you were unsure what to do- you wanted to get rid of him, but you didn’t want to anger him further either. you weren’t supposed to draw any kind of attention towards yourselves, if this were to turn into a big argument, it could damage your mission badly. taehyun’s hand on your knee felt reassuring. at the same time, it made your heart skip a beat whenever he gave it a light squeeze.

“what if i search for you once i finish this first, would that be good?” you did your best fake smile, so that he wouldn’t see directly through your lie. somehow, that answer was good enough for him. he nodded, smiled, then walked away.

taehyun slumped into the chair, taking a sip of the cognac he ordered.

“thank you” you spoke softly “you came just at the right moment”

taehyun’s ears turned red at that “now maybe you understand why i wasn’t letting you go before” he played with the glass in his hand. you bit your lip and nodded, taking a sip of the drink yourself. taehyun had good taste.

you both settled for analysing your surroundings as you drank, making small remarks here and there about the people around you. however, once your glasses were empty, taehyun could already notice the same man approaching your table again. he got up abruptly, taking your wrist and tugging you along with him.

“hey- what’s gotten into you?” you asked. you couldn’t figure out the expression he had on his face, nor his actions. taehyun loudly knocked on the bathroom door. upon hearing no answer, he dragged you in, locking the door after him “weren’t you the one saying that we shouldn’t make a scene?”

“and what was i supposed to do? sit there and watch as he tried to touch you again?” he huffed.

“why are you acting like this? maybe i wouldn’t have minded having a drink with another man” you provoked him further. that wasn’t actually the case- the quick lie slipped past your lips in the heat of the moment, as you were curious to see where he was going to end up with this.

"oh really?" taehyun pressed his tongue against his cheek, crossing his arms. he took a step closer towards you, to which, at first, you chose not to react.

"yes, really."

you tried to sound confident as you talked, but taehyun took note of your pursed lips “you know, lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart." he took another step towards you then another- until you had no choice but to take a few steps back yourself, not stopping until your back hit the wall.

“you know what? i don’t get you-“ you snapped “and i’m tired of trying to figure you out” you pressed a finger to his chest, letting out all those pent-up frustrations that had been tormenting you for the past few days “you keep on giving me these mixed signals- your actions never seem to match your words. how do you even think i felt today? or after last night? do you even care about that?”

you chuckled drily as taehyun remained silent. “why won’t you just give me a clear answer?” your gaze dropped to the floor "if you had the guts, kang taehyun, you would have kissed me"

taehyun's eyes looked sharp, he inched closer to you, bringing your chin up with his hand so that he could look directly into your eyes "you think something is stopping me from doing that right now?" he tilted his head and smirked, slight amusement hidden in his voice.

"then do it" you said firmly, pushing him over the edge.

taehyun slipped his other hand on the small of your back, holding you close so that he could press his mouth on yours, hot and heavy. he wasted no time to lick your lips with his tongue, silently asking for permission to deepen the kiss. you opened your mouth for him, the feeling of his lips and tongue even more intoxicating than the alcohol that you had consumed earlier that night. he lifted one of your legs up, letting his fingers dance along the bare skin that was revealed once your dress slid up with the movement. your body felt hot all over, you hadn't even known how badly you were craving for his touch until you got to experience it. you clasped your hands behind his neck, then dragged them along his back, slightly scratching it with your nails. taehyun groaned at the feeling, hoisting your other leg up as well so that you could wrap them both around his waist. he moved on to your neck, biting at the skin in a slightly hidden area. it was just enough to remind that man and all those other people lurking after you tonight that you were only his. he carried you over to the sink, putting you on the edge of the counter there so that he could have better access to your neck.

there was knocking on the door, followed by the rattling of the doorknob.

"tae-"

taehyun put his index finger over your lips, shushing you as he covered you whole in kisses: your neck, your collarbones, your chest, all the way down to the valley of your breasts, the area exposed by the cleavage of your dress.

"they'll leave" he spoke against your skin.

the image of a ticking clock crossing your mind every now and then filled you with worry and pressure "we should leave too-" taehyun pressed his finger over your lips once more.

"tae-" you breathed out again "-the mission"

"just a bit more” he whispered “there's still time" he looked up at you, those big eyes of his, filled to the brim with desire, pleaded you to let him continue. you grabbed the collar of his shirt, connecting your lips with his again. you sighed in contentment, letting him take control over the kiss. soft gasps and wet lips, his warm mouth on your skin- you got lost into it all, not caring for one second whether your hair or your dress were turning into a mess.

you could barely bring yourself to stop, and when you did, it felt like your cheeks had been set on fire. you hid your face in the crook of taehyun’s neck, breathing heavily against his skin as your brain finally processed what had just happened between the two of you.

you kissed kang taehyun

no-

you made out- with kang taehyun

and you enjoyed it.

in fact, you enjoyed it so much you seriously contemplated ditching the event just to feel his lips on yours for a few moments more.

the rational part of you was stronger “come on- we have a mission to complete” you pressed a quick peck on taehyun’s lips. he smiled, taking his time to fix your appearance before holding your hand and reaching for the door.

“let’s do it” he breathed out.

you sneaked past the security guards and reached the hallway towards the office. you wished you could have collaborated with them, but there was no way you could have known whether the person betraying the president was one of them or not, and you didn’t feel like risking your cover.

your hand reached towards the doorknob, wanting to check whether the door was locked or not. taehyun spoke right before you touched it.

“don’t- it’s dangerous, the bomb could be on the door”

you slowly retracted your hand. you didn’t think this through, and quickly jumped into action. taehyun was right, and you had to find a way to test his theory right before making another attempt at getting in.

you used some of the gadgets irene bought for you, making a small hole inside the wall and pushing through an extendable stick with a camera to look inside.

bingo.

the bomb was placed flushed against the door. had taehyun not stopped you before, you would have both been dead in an instant.

“seems like we’ll have to find another way in” you muttered.

taehyun eyed the outside window “how are your wall climbing skills?”

“not bad at all” you offered to go first, it was probably your best shot for now.

the distance between this window and the one in the office wasn’t that long either, you were just hoping that there weren’t any curious eyes looking up at the building from the garden.

melting away the lock on the window, you succeeded to get in. taehyun followed right after you, jumping inside. the bomb didn’t have a timer on it, the wire connected to the doorknob was what would made it go off. you had to give this one to them, it was pretty smart- this way, they ensured that they had less chances of missing their target.

“any updates?” irene’s voice was heard from your ear piece.

“yeah- we’re in. the enemy’s plan isn’t so bad after all, they just organised it poorly”

“that’s great- but you need to hurry up. you don’t have much time until the guy checking the security cameras alerts the other guards”

“got it” you replied

“so no pressure at all” taehyun laughed as he searched for the necessary tools. the bomb wasn’t unlike anything else you’ve seen before. the only thing you needed to do was follow the procedure carefully, so as not to miss any steps.

taehyun took it upon himself to do it, even though you were both in just as much danger anyway. you helped him out as much as you could, reassuring him that he followed all the steps in the right order and giving him new tools whenever he needed to switch.

“shit-“ you could hear heavy footsteps going up the stairs “they’re onto us, you need to hurry”

“hang on- i’m almost done” taehyun tried his best to remain calm, he couldn’t have his hands trembling at this very moment.

“you either show yourselves, or we’ll have no choice but to barge in” a male voice shouted from behind the door. they were definitely not alone.

“2 more wires” he whispered.

you were growing impatient, but you bit your tongue trying to remain silent, taehyun had to remain concentrated.

“we’ll take your silence as an answer” the man shouted again before starting a countdown.

3, 2, 1-

the door was busted down from its shackles.

the guards remained silent as they were met with...an empty room?

you and taehyun barely managed to make it out on time, and you were now holding your breath as you clung onto the outside wall again. you entered the building through another window from the floor beneath you before they had a chance to inspect the area and potentially see you.

after making sure you were in a safe zone, you reached out to irene again: “we’re done here- we’ll send you that fucker’s fingerprints”

“excellent”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

taehyun called the reception as you were taking a cab back to the hotel. he requested 2 bottles of wine for you to drink as a form of celebration. you couldn’t wait to lie down and drink to your heart’s content.

so now- here you were, you sitting in taehyun’s lap as he tried his best not to laugh in your face at your drunken words and actions. it seemed like you couldn’t handle alcohol that well when you were exhausted.

“can you kiss me again?” you asked quietly, closing your eyes before you could even notice his reaction. taehyun was taken aback by your sudden proposal, but nevertheless, fondness took over his eyes in an instant. he cupped your cheeks, bringing your face closer to him until your noses were touching. then, he opted for pressing a soft kiss on the corner of your lips, to which you opened your eyes, cheeks burning at the small gesture. “god- you’re making me go crazy” he spoke softly against your lips. his hand took hold of your wrist, leaving a tender kiss on your pulse point “let’s get you to bed”

you shook your head, dipping your head down to bury your face in his chest as you hugged him tightly. silence filled up the room for a moment before you finally spoke again “maybe it was supposed to be like this from the beginning.” your voice was slightly muffled as you refused to move away from your spot. taehyun ran his hands through your hair “…like what?”

“i don’t know. maybe we were never supposed to hate each other" those words rolled off your tongue softly, your eyes getting heavier with each passing second.

taehyun tucked a few strands behind your ear. your words tugged at his heart, and it was like something clicked for the both of you as you voiced out your drunken thoughts. it was stupid-so stupid. all this time, you had both been too caught up in the high created by all the praises and achievements. you were taught to eliminate any kind of obstacle that came your way whenever you set a goal, you forgot to look at each other as just...humans. sure, the pride that bloomed in your chest whenever you successfully cleared yet another mission felt good, but has that ever felt as good as taehyun's touch? his lips on yours, rough hands enveloping yours as a silent sign of care and reassurance, arms circling your waist to keep you close, to keep you safe. you never paid much attention to human relationships, and perhaps that was the reason why, once you stepped foot into your empty apartment, once the cheers died down, you had never felt truly satisfied with your life.

hearing the sound of light snores coming from beneath him, taehyun looked down to find you already fast asleep in his lap. “cute” he chuckled, secretly taking out his phone for a pic, the corners of his mouth turning up at the thought of teasing you about it tomorrow. he slowly detangled your hand that was holding on to his shirt tightly, then lifted you up to carry you over to your side of the bed. he frowned upon noticing that you never had the chance to take off your dress. diverting his eyes as much as he could, taehyun took it off for you, blushing as he slid one of his shirts over your head. he didn't want to invade your privacy, he just wished you could rest comfortably after experiencing such a draining day.

“sleep well, y/n” taehyun pressed a kiss against your temple before getting underneath the covers himself. he sighed in contentment as he brought himself closer to you, your soft rhythmic breaths and warm body putting his own at ease.

taglist: @huekalover3000

#wave2tyun #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #txt fic #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt smau #txt headcanons #txt taehyun #taehyun fluff #taehyun scenarios #taehyun fic #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #taehyun headcanons

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padfootagain · 14 days

Text

Only an Almost (I)

Chapter 1 : For the Best

Hello!! Here is a new series! I’ve already finished writing and proofreading it, and I’ll be posting two chapters per week! I hope you’ll like it!

Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2739

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was a logical decision.

That’s what Andrew kept telling himself. As he watched you pick up your clothes, scattered across his bedroom floor, he forced his mind to form the same thought over and over again.

This is for the best. There’s no choice.

It was part of the deal. You never stayed for the entire night, and he didn’t linger long enough to fall asleep in your arms. Made it easier. Avoiding getting attached, avoiding stepping into any type of complication. You had sex, and then you were gone. On the side, you were good friends.

Best friends.

Something like that. Something in between good and best, he would say. Good didn’t sound strong enough to describe your friendship. It explained why it all happened in the first place, why you started casually hooking up about three months ago. After your first kiss, you decided to establish a simple rule.

If we do this, it can’t be anything but sex. We can’t get attached like this.

Romantically, that’s what you meant by this. And Andrew got it, of course. He spent most of his time abroad, it was the only logical decision. Besides, he had tried before to have serious relationships, but every time the same scheme repeated itself: he would leave for tour, and everything would fall apart. The distance always extinguished the flame. That and the fact that he was so busy he barely had time to sleep, let alone dedicate quality time to anyone. And he understood, of course, he couldn’t complain about being dumped when he spent a grand total of 20 minutes on the phone with his partner in the span of a day, when he got lucky. He got it, the ghostly presence, the lingering pain of being apart, the estrangement that came with the oblivion of the other’s life. He knew what it felt like, and he understood that others were not ready to go through that for him. He wasn’t worthy of it. It was alright…

And he understood that you didn’t want to get dragged into his mess of a life. To be fair, he didn’t want to drag you into this either, and he agreed when you offered this arrangement. He didn’t feel like he had a choice that day, when you made him this offer so casually, in front of a cup of tea. He could have said no, but his feelings for you were way too strong for that. Better have a little bit of you than nothing at all…

Friends by day, sex by night, no romantic feelings. Sounded simple enough.

“Damn… where’s my other sock?”

You looked around frantically, searching for the tiny piece of garment. Andrew spotted it by the door. He didn’t say anything about it.

“You’re coming to Alex’s party tomorrow?” he asked instead, voice a little hoarse after the sounds you had torn from him tonight.

“Hmm… yeah, probably. He’ll have my head if I don’t, anyway.”

“Perhaps not your head, but definitely your sanity.”

“He does hold grudges like no one else…”

Andrew stared as you buttoned your jeans, still searching the room for your lost sock, the one he didn’t help you to find. He readjusted the blanket higher on his torso, feeling self-conscious now that he was the only one left naked.

“Want me to pick you up?” he offered, and you nodded with a grin.

“Yeah, that would be nice! That way I can get properly sloshed.”

He chuckled at that, bathing into the warmth of your laughter, smiling without a thought.

“Oh, and I need to go to your mother’s tomorrow!” you informed him, readjusting your shirt.

His shirt, as a matter of fact. His heart stumbled at the sight…

“Really?”

“Hmm… she wants to take pictures of several objects for her artwork. I’ve volunteered to go around Dublin with her tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you.”

“We both know I like Raine better than you. I’m only keeping you around to have her,” you teased, throwing Andrew a mischievous wink.

He tightened his hold on the sheets.

“Oh, I see. You’re only using me to get to her… and I thought you only used me for sex.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” but he noticed the way you bit your lip, refraining a smile, and how you averted your eyes in shyness, and he loved the sight…

Your eyes fell on the lost item, and you let out a victorious cry picking up your sock, while Andrew swallowed back the lump in his throat.

You sat down on the edge of the bed to put your socks on, and he didn’t think as he sat up, leaning into your form. He didn’t wrap his arms around you, merely rested his shoulder against yours, revelling in the warmth escaping your body.

He pressed his lips to your hair, felt you tensing, saw you stopping your movements.

“Ring me when you’re home, okay? It’s late. Are you too tired to drive?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that tired,” you answered, voice weaker than before, but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because the night was quiet but for the branches of trees singing in the wind outside, and it felt like the world had slowed down, like it was more peaceful than usual. Perhaps because you were uncomfortable. Hard to tell.

He moved away, just in case. Distance cutting your edges and his with cold. And yet Andrew remained but centimetres away.

“Alright. Still, tell me when you’re home, okay? Just to be safe.”

You seemed to relax, he didn’t know if he liked that reaction or not.

“I like it when you do that.”

It sounded like a confession, the words on your lips quiet and velvety, soft to the touch.

“Do what?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side a little.

“Get all worried about me.”

You gave him a smile, one that he offered back with ease.

“Hmm… don’t have a choice. You’re a menace behind the wheel.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! You almost killed us last month!”

“It wasn’t even my fault, there was a fucking sheep running across the road, coming out of nowhere!”

“Can’t believe you’re blaming the fauna for this…”

You both laughed at that, and when you grew quiet again, smile still lingering on your lips, you let your head fall to rest onto his shoulder, and it was Andrew’s time to relax. You lifted your hand to rest upon his chest, right over his heart. For a second, he felt embarrassed at the thought that you would feel how fast his heart was beating, but your palm was too warm against his skin, and he soon couldn’t care enough to worry.

He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close, but not too much, not as much as he would have wanted, too afraid you would push him away.

“I know that… that’s what friends are made for, but still… it’s nice. Thank you, Andy.”

He closed his eyes as he rested his lips against your hair; closed them too tightly, until it hurt.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he whispered into your skin, mouth drifting to press against your forehead. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You hummed, leaning into him even more, and he felt all your muscles relaxing as he rubbed your back, palm flat against your spine, the curve so familiar under his hand by now.

You heaved a sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Andrew answered without a second thought, not thinking about what he had planned. He would move his schedule around for you anyway.

You looked up at him again, blinked a few times, as if to fall back onto earth. There was something dreamy in your smile.

“Good night, Andy.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

That was another one of your rules: no affectionate pet names.

He leaned down to kiss you, but you turned your cheek to his lips instead, and acted like it was nothing, like he had never been aiming for your mouth in the first place.

Third rule: no kissing without sex.

The next second, you were standing, walking towards the door. He stared as you walked out, listened to the padding of your feet on the tiles, the creaking of his staircase. He waited until the front door closed, and he let himself fall back into his pillows.

It was a logical decision, he didn’t have a choice.

Andrew, you absolute fool…

His mother was worried, which meant that Andrew was worried.

She was smiling at you as if nothing was wrong, as if the sunny afternoon truly was as bright as the beams coming across the green leaves of his parents’ garden trees.

Andrew was not fooled though. He knew his mother too well not to see the signs, to be blind to her slight frown, to the drifting downwards of her gaze, to the worried lip she kept biting on.

Raine didn’t say a word while you were here though, and it only worried Andrew more. You were a friend of the family; almost part of the family at this point. You were close enough to Andrew’s parents and brother to spend time with them on your own, just to see them. And they invited you often as well. If Raine wasn’t saying anything in front of you, it ought to mean that this was serious, that something terrible was happening. His thoughts drifted to his father…

“Andy? You’re okay?”

He blinked up at you, soothing the frown he had not noticed across his brow. He gave you a reassuring smile.

“Sure, why?”

“I don’t know… you look… worried. Is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I was just lost in thought.”

You narrowed your eyes a little at him, clearly unconvinced, but Andrew shot you a smile, asked a question to draw the conversation back to you, and you yielded.

It was such a sweet afternoon, after all. You had spent some time taking pictures for Raine, and somehow had found your way to her garden, with tea and biscuits, a little high on sunlight and laughter. It was lovely. It almost felt like you and Andrew were not friends, almost like you were in your own family home. He pushed that thought away quickly though, taking a sip of tea and regretting that there was no burning effect of alcohol when he swallowed.

When you left to go home, Andrew was aware that he held you too tightly, for too long, that he let his lips linger against your cheek for more than a mere peck. But you didn’t push him away, and so he leaned further, allowed himself to be close, just for a moment.

You hugged Raine, promising to come back the following week for an artsy afternoon, and left as the sun abandoned the sky.

Andrew was washing the teacups when he finally asked his mother what was bothering her.

“Nothing, honey,” she reassured him, but he shook his head and gave her a hard look.

“Come on. Don’t lie to me. I know there’s something on your mind. Are dad and you okay?”

“Oh, darling… of course, we are. Don’t worry about us, we’re both fine. No, it’s… it’s you I’m worried about.”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a laugh, a mixture of relief and surprise.

“Me? Why would you be worried about me? I’m good.”

“Are you, though?”

She gave him that look, the one that pierced him to his soul, the one he couldn’t run away from. The one he knew would claim the truth, in the end. He felt like a child when she looked at him like that, like he had just stolen a cookie from the jar and was caught red-handed as he tried to hide the proof of his crime.

“I’m fine, mom. Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. I really am.”

But her gaze only hardened. Not in a cold way, on the contrary. It was a gaze of steel in its firmness, but that held all the love she had for him. His heart sank at the sight.

“Don’t lie. I know there’s something off between you and Y/N.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fleeing. He stared at his hands still holding a teacup, and he noticed it was yours. There were traces of your lipstick on the edge of the pale porcelain. He traced it with his fingers absent-mindedly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, but his lie was obvious, his voice too low, too weak. In the sink, his fingers pushed the cup into the water, disappearing under soapy bubbles, and he left them there, in the warmth of the water, staring at the flesh that had disappeared, at your trace that was gone but that he hadn’t erased yet.

“Andy… you know that you can tell me anything. I’m your mother. You can always tell me anything that bothers you. That’s my job to help you. And I’m great at it.”

Her joke made them both chuckle, but he didn’t look at her. He rubbed at the stained spot on the cup instead, but blindly so, unable to see the destruction of your lips over the edge of the porcelain.

“I don’t know… it’s a little weird,” he whispered, struggling to find the right words and hating that about himself. How it was so much easier to write things down than to speak out words. They felt heavy on his tongue, had a wrong taste in his mouth.

“Why? What happened? Did you two fight?”

“No… no, we didn’t fight.”

“What is it, then?”

“We… We’re sleeping together.”

Raine stared at her son with wide eyes, her mouth dropping open. He chuckled at her reaction; clearly, she hadn’t been expecting that…

“What? When? How? What?”

“You’ve asked that one twice.”

“Wait, I don’t understand… if you two are finally being intelligent and are together, why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not sad.”

She gave him a look that was silently saying ‘I’ve birthed you, do not lie to me’.

He looked away again, tried to ignore the finally part of her question.

“We’re sleeping together. We aren’t together.”

“Oh…”

She seemed disappointed, leaned her back against the counter.

“How long?” she asked, after a heavy and lingering silence.

“A few months.”

“And you’re not dating her?”

“No, we’re not dating.”

“But you’re hanging out with her during the day, and sleeping with her at night.”

“Yeah.”

He struggled to swallow, cheeks turned crimson.

“Why on earth would you want that?”

She was blunt, as usual, but there was so much love in her question. So much worry for her son. Andrew wasn’t fooled, she was direct because she cared too much to circle around the issue.

“I’ve never said that I wanted that,” Andrew admitted in a whisper, feeling tears rise to his eyes, but he blinked them away, clenching his jaw to hold them in check.

“Oh, honey…”

She rubbed his back, her movement soothing. He rolled his eyes.

“Mom, don’t… I’m okay.”

“Casually sleeping with your friend… that’s not a good idea, Andy. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you want. This is your life. And I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what. Still…”

She heaved a sigh, but her son remained silent, and so she went on.

“You are too generous when you love, Andy. Be careful. Take care of yourself. For once, take care of yourself, before you take care of her. Can you do that for me?”

He finally pulled your cup out of the water. Your lipstick was gone, there was only the perfect white of the porcelain left under his thumb.

“Don’t worry about me, mom. I’m okay.”

“I know how you feel for her. This kind of… arrangement… it won’t end well for you.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I agreed to this. I’m okay with us just being casual, with nothing serious happening between us.”

But one did not fool a mother so easily. She gave him a look that let him know she understood him better than he did himself. And he had no doubt she was right about that.

Still, he put down the cup by the side of the sink to dry, picked up another, and washed the tea away again.

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