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whatsnewalycat · 2 years

Text

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 19: Domestic Bliss

Word Count: 6.1k+

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags / CW: swearing, cheating/infidelity, smoking, binge drinking in a bar, hold the moan, PIV sex, clitoral stimulation, hand job, sexual contact in public, oops did we accidentally talk about marriage, vomit mention, drinking game, domestic abuse, the word cunt shows up a lot, dancing, attempted sexual assault, FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT, nachos

Chapter Summary: Our heroes go out to the bar and drink (arguably) too much in mixed company.

Notes: Chapter title from "Domestic Bliss" by Glass Animals. The spotify playlist for this chapter is large and in charge and has a high ratio of LCD Soundsystem songs. It's fitting because this is a big chapter (relatively speaking) that is under the influence of alcohol. If you're in the US, happy labor day weekend, remember that worker's rights movements are critical. Join a union, like IWW! I'm a member and I'm a stay-at-home mom. They have a sliding scale for monthly dues. Okie dokie friends, thank you for reading, I love you (probably- or is that weird? whatever).

[ Masterlist for Series ] [ Taglist ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ AO3 ]

The Pour House, Laredo, TX July 25, 1998

The tartness of lime ruptures onto your tongue and neutralizes the cheap mezcal’s harsh burn. Your insides buzz as the 3rd tequila shot you’ve taken tonight settles in your belly.

“Shit, that went down too easy,” Dan hoots and slams the shot glass down on the table, making you flinch. Claudia flashes a barely detectable dirty look at him across the table, then glances at Kim to make sure she didn’t notice. Kim is sitting next to her, sharp blue eyes scanning the room as she sizes up the Saturday night crowd, completely oblivious.

You’ve been glancing up at the door every time it swings open, like a love drunk adolescent waiting for that boy. The slam of the heavy door sends your heart racing in some kind of a Pavlovian response. When he finally walks in, handsome dark features contrasted by a sky blue button up shirt, you try to remain neutral and friendly as you wave him over to the booth. He smiles wide when he spots you, then approaches the table and greets everyone, acknowledging the empty shot glasses.

“Sorry I’m late, can I get this round? What’s everyone drinking?”

Kim follows him up to the bar to “help him carry drinks back.” Your eyes are glued to them, taking note of the way she’s hanging off of his shoulder while they wait for Gina, flashing her perfect smile and arching her back towards him. A pang of jealousy stabs through you.

“I didn’t know he was meeting us here,” Dan grumbles, watching you carefully as you watch Javi and Kim.

You divert your attention back to the table and frown, meeting his gaze with a furrowed brow, “I told you at dinner last night, remember? I called him and Kim and they both said they could make it out.”

“I remember,” Claudia chimes in helpfully.

You point to her and grin, “See?”

He noticeably sours, scoffing as he mutters under his breath, “I don’t remember that.”

“Is there a band playing tonight?” Claudia asks, ignoring the angry man child sitting across from her as she nods towards someone setting up sound equipment on a small raised stage.

“I bet. No wonder there are so many people here,” you look around the dreary taproom again, recognizing a few faces here and there. None of them you desire to acknowledge, but still.

One drink in each manicured hand, Kim returns to the table first. She leans across the table to slide a gin and tonic over to Dan. You’re certain the action has everything to do with the jean shorts she’s wearing and the view Javi can get from his spot behind her. When your eyes flick to his, they’re on you. Heat rises to your face and you drop your gaze to your hands, where you start to pick at lavender nail polish.

Kim returns to her seat next to Claudia, sliding across the sticky pleather booth far enough for Javi to sit next to her. Javi doles out the remaining three cups to their rightful owners. You flash a smile of thanks to him and lift the straw to your lips. He motions for you to move over so he can sit next to you. You oblige and beam involuntarily, then try to hide your face with your hair.

“How’s Judy?” he asks when he settles in, taking a sip of whiskey, leaning onto an elbow as he faces you.

“She’s being a little punk, as usual,” you respond with a smile. His brown eyes somehow sparkle in the dim lighting when they meet yours.

He chuckles, then blatantly looks down to your lips, “Taking after her mother, then?”

“She’s a natural,” you shrug, lighting a cigarette, and add, “We had to take her in to get all her shots yesterday, which was horrible for everyone involved, but we managed to get out alive.”

“Barely,” Claudia confirms and raises a scratch-streamed arm as proof.

Javi mutters a sympathetic “shit,” as he shoves a cigarette between his lips and lights it.

“Ouch,” Kim winces and presses her fingertips to one particularly thick scratch.

“Have you met our cat?” Dan leans forward and makes eye contact with Javi directly.

Our cat.

As if he has been referring to Judy as anything other than your pet since you brought her home.

“He stopped by the day I got her-“

Dan looks like he stops himself from sneering at you before he says, “Not talkin’ to you, babe.”

“I stopped by the day she got the cat,” Javi responds dutifully, making eye contact with Dan as he takes a long drag. You contain the urge to start spouting lies about why Javi was at your house, hoping maybe Dan will let it slide without question.

He doesn’t.

“You were at my house?” Dan tilts his head with interest, then fixes his gaze on you and asks, “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“I- he was only there for fifteen minutes to meet Claudia and Judy,” you explain timidly, avoiding eye contact by chipping away at your fingernails, “There wasn’t much to tell you.”

He raises an eyebrow in response. The slightly tense moment is broken up when Gina stops at the table with a serving tray, then starts setting down a salt shaker, shot glasses filled with reposado, and limes.

“Fuckin’ a, really?” Dan chuckles, raising an eyebrow at his little sister, who he pins as the perpetrator.

At least that seemed to clear his mind of the previous subject. Thank god for an alcohol-induced short attention span.

She smiles innocently, “I want to have fun with y’all tonight.” Her gaze lingers just a beat too long on Javi. You feel him shift in his seat.

This is your hell. She’s not a threat, you know that Javi would never jump ship, but the attempts to flirt with the man you’re in love with still make you host to a green-eyed monster.

Shots are divided amongst the group. Lick the salt, shoot the tequila, suck the lime. Bing, bang, boom. It heats your veins and settles like a bonfire in your belly. You shudder audibly when Javi’s fingers land on your bare leg and start to ghost across the tender skin of your thigh. He exhales a chuckle.

“You ok?” Dan asks with a furrowed brow, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in for an awkward side hug.

A loud nervous laugh escapes you, so you instinctively cover your mouth, then tell him, “I’m fine. It… umm, didn’t go down well. That’s all.”

“Javi, you should take another one,” Kim tells the man whose touch is dancing on your leg, leaning in towards him flirtatiously with a wink, “You have to catch up with us.”

“You know, Kimmy, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to get Peña liquored up,” Dan teases and takes a long sip from his gin and tonic.

Kim flits her gaze to Javi and shrugs after glancing down at his lips, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

A strong territoriality makes your blood boil and your face hot. You take a deep breath, then suck down your drink to stop from indulging in your temper. The touch on your thigh draws circles that bring you back to your body.

Javi shakes his head and smirks, “I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that.”

Your stomach flips upside down and releases a whole fleet of butterflies.

“Your girlfriend?” Kim jerks her head back in surprise, flared nostrils giving away her own jealousy under the surface, “Who’s that? When did this happen?”

“We met in San Antonio a while back. It’s only been a few weeks, but it’s getting pretty serious,” he covers his mouth bashfully as he smiles from ear-to-ear, absolutely glowing. It spreads to your face, too.

It’s getting pretty serious.

“I’m so happy for you, Javi!” you exclaim, clapping your hands, “I can’t wait to meet her.”

I deserve a fucking Oscar.

The fingertips on your thigh slide further up, flirting with the hem of your short black dress. The dress Dan hates. The one Javi loves. He nods and takes a drink, pretending he doesn’t notice your breathing quicken, then smirks, “I’ll make sure to bring her around sometime soon.”

“Whatever,” Kim dismisses the conversation with a huff, obviously a little perturbed that her Plan A for getting laid tonight isn’t working in her favor. She’s nothing if not hot and resourceful, though, and you have faith she will come up with a worthy Plan B.

“Did Gina tell y’all who’s playing tonight?” you ask Kim and Javi.

Kim nods, “Turnip Darling.”

“Wow, what a name,” Claudia marvels.

Javi’s fingers slither up further to tease your pantyline. You lean onto the table with your elbows, breaking contact with Dan’s hand around your shoulders, and spread your legs for Javi. He greedily accepts the granted access, finger pads catching friction across the delicate lace of your underwear, stroking the sensitive bud beneath.

“Country band, she says they’re a lot of fun,” Kim adds, then looks around the table, “Are y’all going to dance with me tonight, or what?”

You lose yourself in the rhythm of Javi’s touch humming around your clit for and a whimper starts to crack from your throat. You cover it by giggling, then raising your hand, “I’ll dance with you!”

“You will?” Kim and Claudia ask at the same time. They’ve both received a crinkled nose from you at the suggestion of dancing more times than you can remember. But that was a different you.

“Yeah, fuck it, why not?” you respond breathlessly. Heat rises from your neck to your face as your pulse pounds. Javi’s touch swirling around your clit is creating a cyclone at your center. It’s getting harder to conceal how turned on you are.

“Are you ok?” Javi frowns. This pulls all eyes around the table to your face.

You’re not sure if he’s trying to mentally fuck with you over the table as he physically fucks with you under the table, but as he says this, he slips a finger under the fabric of your underwear and starts to rub you directly. You swallow hard and exhale a shaky breath as you lie like your life depends on it, “I don’t know, I feel like I need to go outside, maybe. I think- fuck- I think I’m going to puke.”

I’d like to thank The Academy…

“Shit, ok,” Javi pulls back to let you out of the booth, then looks around the table, “Should I go with or-?”

Claudia raises an eyebrow in amusement and says nothing, Kim shrugs, and Dan grimaces, “Be my guest.”

With a nod to your comrades, he follows you out the back door to the patio. When the screen door slams shut with a creak-bang, you keep walking, knowing that he’s hot on your trail. You keep walking until you can turn into a dark alleyway. The creak-bang signals his departure from the bar, and Javi emerges in the alleyway a few moments later.

He strides over and crowds you as your hands link behind his neck. He grips your waist and kisses you hard, expressing his aching lust with an exploratory tongue. Unfinished wood scratches against the exposed skin of your back as he shoves you against the Pour House’s tall patio fence.

His forehead presses against yours when he pulls back and breathes, “We have to be quick.”

You arch into him and guide one of his hands between your thighs, whispering, “Just play with me for a little bit, baby.”

He groans and pulls your underwear down your thighs, then meets your sex with deft fingers. They run up and down your slit, spreading your slick, and he draws tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. A deep, tingling pleasure roils in your core. You respond with a wanton moan that’s much too loud, to which he responds by covering your mouth and growling in your ear, “Hush.”

Grabbing his hand with both of yours, you press his fingers flat against your tongue, then rut them in and out of your mouth with a quiet hum. His fingers stretch the muscles in your lips thin and scratch against your tongue lightly. He hisses, pout form an approving “O” as he watches you with love-blown eyes, never ceasing the steady thrum of circles that have you panting. Desire accumulates molten hot at your center and breaks your body out into a sweat. You need to feel him.

After releasing his wrist to tug at his pants, you stumble around the belt and zipper until he takes his hand out of your mouth, stringing saliva along on its departure, and uses it to pull out his smooth, hard cock, stroking it up and down, lubricating himself with your spit. You take over for him, pumping his length, and he groans under your grasp. He throbs and thrusts into your palm, only making you more needy.

“I need- I need-“ you huff as you clutch his shirt and rock your hips against his fingers on your clit. Static is building in your center, but you need to be filled.

He knows your body well enough to give you exactly what you need, wordlessly turning you around to ease his cock inside your wet heat. You prop yourself up on your forearms against the abrasive boards of the fence and whimper when he starts to speed up, then finds a rhythm that makes your ears ring. He holds back a moan by biting down on your shoulder, shooting a delectable ripple of pain and pleasure down the middle of you.

He pulls your back against his chest and holds you there as he buries himself inside you, stretching your cunt again and again, and his whisper his hot on your neck when he asks, “Is that what you need, babygirl? You need to get fucked?”

You whine and nod, tilting against him for better access, making you gasp when he gets it.

He gets closer to your ear and breathes, “Does it turn you on when I touch you right in front of him?”

“Fuck, it does, baby- wish he’d see and know I’m yours-“ you whimper.

He groans through gritted teeth, then grabs a fistful of the hair at the nape of your neck to crane your face towards his, rutting into you with two especially deep and hard thrusts, “You’re trying to get me in trouble, aren’t you?”

Your mouth hangs open and you babble in delirium as his cock rubs against something utterly divine, filling you from top to bottom with a blissfulness you wish would never end, “That’s fucking perfect- fuck- I want you always, Javi. I- I- wish it was you - wish it was your ring on me-“

He drags his tongue across the side of your face, ripping a moan from your throat, and rumbles in your ear, “You want to fucking marry me, hmm? Be my wife? S’that how much you love my cock?”

“Ssss how much I love all of you, Javi,” you whisper truthfully, and he leverages his grip on your hair, crashing his lips into yours, kissing you breathless as he continues to fuck you. The deafening pressure of pleasure continues to build inside you, and you’re almost at your breaking point.

“I want it, too,” he pants into your ear, deep voice filled with such a raw vulnerability, and if you could marry him right now, you would.

Your lips meet in a sloppy, desperate kiss, and soft whimpers grow louder. You cover your own mouth, trying to muffle the moans as he moves more frantically, and the ecstasy crests inside your body, making your vision fill with stars as the feeling obliterates you. Your knees almost give out, but he holds you there and works you through your climax, the tremors in your cunt squeeze around him and push him over the edge. When he cums, his cock pulses deep inside you in such a way that another wave of all-consuming pleasure swells and crashes down on you.

His breath hitches and sputters as your body contracts around him again. This time, he holds his hand to your mouth, as you’ve completely lost control of your faculties, and start to sob. When the wave passes and the huffing and heaving calms, you and Javi peel apart like Velcro, then you stumble backwards a little trying to regain your footing back on Earth.

—

You’re nervous sweating as you return to your group. Both of your hands are dripping wet because the bathroom didn’t have any goddamn paper towels, so you wipe them on your black dress as you return to the table. Javi is at the bar getting a drink, so you scoot into the booth next to Dan unencumbered.

Dan lays hazy eyes on you and pokes, “Did ya barf?”

You grimace and nod, looking down at your watery whiskey ginger with faux disdain before you take a sip.

“How’re you feeling?” Claudia asks with an exaggerated pity frown that is a dead giveaway she is not fooled.

You owe her a million times over for playing along. Truly an angel. Or a devil, you suppose, depending on one’s moral compass.

“Better. Ready to drink more,” you sigh, then glance around the table, “Sorry, I think I had too many shots too close together.”

“Boot and rally, babe. Boot and rally,” Kim winks and wraps her plump lips around the straw in her drink.

Javi slides back into the booth, setting down a cup of water in front of you, then grins, “Did you tell them you puked on my shoes?”

Your mouth gapes open in disbelief that he would make something up like that. Is it genius? Yes. But is it needlessly embarrassing? Absolutely. Regardless, you roll with it, scoffing, “I thought that was not supposed to leave the alleyway, but OK,” then you turn and announce, “Hey everyone, I puked on Javi’s shoes.”

“Suddenly I don’t feel bad for not volunteering to go with you,” Claudia snorts.

Dan guffaws with satisfaction, “Welcome to the club.”

“How many people’s shoes have you puked on, exactly?” Javi asks you, shit-eating grin spread across his face. If he wasn’t so cute, you’d catch an attitude with him, because he knows the answer.

You clear your throat and grab the sweaty watered down whiskey ginger in front of you to take a sip, then you grumble, “I will not be participating in this assassination of my character.”

“Wow, that’s dramatic,” Javi laughs. You stifle a laugh and shake your head.

Claudia sits up tall and says, “All whose shoes have been puked on by this woman, say aye.”

“Aye,” all four of your companions confirm.

You feign annoyance with Javi, whose sparkling eyes and smug smirk are warming your insides faster than the booze, then mutter as you roll your eyes, “You’re buying me a drink for that.”

The table takes one more tequila shot and gets some more drinks, and soon the volume noticeably rises several decibels as the liquor dulls senses and lowers inhibitions. You’re getting hazy and precarious in your intoxication. Javi gives in to Kim’s peer pressure and takes another shot by himself. Apparently you’re all on a mission to get fucked up tonight.

“Have you guys ever played most likely?” Claudia asks. When everyone shakes their head no, she explains, “So we go around the table and take turns asking the group who is most likely to do something. Then we count to 3 and everyone has to point to the person they think is most likely to do that thing. You take a drink for every finger pointed at you.”

“How do you win?” Dan frowns.

“Nobody wins or loses, we all just drink,” Claudia grins. This answer causes Dan to wrinkle his nose, but he doesn’t seem to oppose it.

“Fuck, ok,” you exhale a deep breath and try to prepare for how much drinking this might pertain.

I am the master of my domain. I can hold my liquor. This is fine.

“I’ll start,” Claudia announces, then thinks for a few seconds, “Who is most likely to get an ass tattoo?”

Everyone points at Kim, except for Kim, who points at you.

“Jokes on y’all I already have an ass tattoo,” Kim sticks her tongue out, takes 4 sips, then asks, “Who’s most likely to get into a fight?”

You and Claudia point at Dan, and everyone else points at you.

“I punch one guy and now I’m the fighting person?” you scoff and take 3 sips.

“You got in a ton of fights when we were younger, too,” Claudia notes. Javi leans forward in his seat, interested to hear more. You put your pointer finger to your lips and shush her because this man doesn’t need any more goddamn ammo to tease you.

When Claudia rolls her eyes and zips her lips, you see her wink to Javi. They are obviously in cahoots. You give Javi a don’t fuck with me look and he raises his hands defensively, laughing, “Easy now, Muhammad Ali.”

This game goes on for about a half an hour until the band starts warming up, at which point, you are all drunk. You separate from the herd after a bathroom break in order to get some fresh air and, ironically, smoke a cigarette. There’s an empty picnic table out on the patio, so you sit down and light up. A creak-bang sounds from the door behind you as someone else walks onto the patio.

Recognizing the gait immediately, you grimace to yourself, then turn around to face your fiancé.

“What’s up?” you give him a boozy smile while taking a drag.

“Jus’ seein’ how you’re doing,” he shrugs, then sits down next to you.

You hum, “Mmmmm drunk. But good, I’m having fun.”

“Yeah? You wanna maybe uh…” he points to a decrepit shed in the corner of patio, right outside the alleyway Javi fucked you in earlier, “Go have some fun in there?”

The suggestion actually makes your stomach lurch, and you respond without thinking, laughing in his face, “Absolutely fucking not.”

His face goes dark as he asks through gritted teeth, “What?”

In a true move of alcohol induced shortsightedness, you take a drag from your cigarette and blow it in his face before rubbing it out in a nearby ashtray, “I said n-“

His mitt of a hand seizes your jaw and forces you to look at him as he spits, “Talk to me like that again, bitch, see what happens.”

“Ow, Dan, what the fuck?!” you howl and pull yourself away from his bruising grasp, then stand up and scramble to get inside. Need to be around other people. Right now. He catches up and grabs your wrist before you can open the door. You start panicking and try to rip your arm back, but it doesn’t shake him loose.

“Chill the fuck out, babe. You’re being crazy right now,” he scolds. His contradictory actions and words spurn you into a frenzy.

“Fuck OFF, Dan. Let fucking go of me!” you thrash your arm violently, trying to get him to release you. He lets go of you right as you yank with all of your might. Your ass breaks your landing, bouncing off the cement as you tumble backwards. If you weren’t already sedated and numb from the booze, it would have fucking hurt.

He scoffs at you and walks inside without another word.

“FUCK! YOU!” you scream at the top of your lungs at the closed door. It releases some of the pent up rage that’s been percolating. Feels fucking lethargic. You get back on your feet and dust yourself off, take a deep breath, then go back inside.

Javi clocks how upset you are as soon as he sees you approaching, as made evident when his face falls from loaded contentment to concerned bravado. He’s planted in the outer ridge of spectators watching Turnip Darling, who are playing a cover of Alan Jackson’s “Chattahoochie” at a deafening volume. Leaning in towards your ear, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Fuckin’ Dan,” you grumble loud enough so he can hear you, pursing your lips, unable to bury your anger, “Being an asshole, keeps tryna touch me. Grabbed my face. I fuckin’ fell on the cement.”

Javi’s warm brown eyes flick behind you to (who you’re assuming is) Dan, then back to yours. His nostrils flare and jaw tightens, then he leans closer to you and asks in a low voice, “You want me to go talk to him?”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help but laugh at the ludicrous suggestion, “Oh, yeah, that will go well,” you scoff, “I’d really like to get through this night without being assaulted or becoming unhoused.”

“Come live with me,” he responds simply. You flinch back in surprise and study his face. He’s not kidding. Your hands start to tingle and heartbeat races. With a shrug, he leans in again, “It’ll be safer.”

“Can we talk about this when we’re not shitfaced?” you ask, unable to comprehend the turn this conversation took. What you want to say is yes, absolutely yes. But you’re aware that it might be the alcohol willing him to offer this to you.

He nods then looks down at your lips and back to your eyes, “I’m just letting you know… you know, that it’s an option. I’m ready.”

Fuck, I want to kiss him right now.

“Javi?”

“What?”

“I fucking love you,” you tell him, then watch his face brighten into a big dopey smile. He licks his lips and looks down at your mouth. He wants to kiss you right now, too.

His eyes catch on something behind you and he nods in greeting. Kim and Claudia join your party of two, pulling you both out to the dance floor with them.

In confirmation of the previous genre determination, Turnip Darling only plays covers of country songs. You’re not complaining, though, because it’s a blast to dance and sing along to the music. While you, Javi, and Kim dance in a carefree and noticeably inebriated fashion, Claudia drunk dances in a style that can only be described as midwestern robot dad. It involves a lot of jerky hand and arm movements, and is so obnoxious that it’s endearing. Dan sits at the bar and watches you like a hawk as he continues to guzzle hard liquor.

You do your very best to ignore his gaze and let go of everything, to just have a good fucking time… and you do. It feels like freedom. Dancing with your favorite people in the whole world like nobody else can see you brings you immeasurable joy.

When Turnip Darling announces that they’re taking a break, you all go out to the patio to cool down in the nighttime air.

Once again, you light a cigarette, and then Dan emerges. This time, though, Javi, Claudia, and Kim are with you, smoking and stumbling in place and laughing about all of the very righteous dance moves you’ve all been busting. The company brings you a sense of sanctuary until Dan comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, bending over to nuzzle his face into your neck as your body tenses. Claudia is frozen, and Kim scrunches her nose at the obviously unwanted physical affection. Your eyes shoot to Javi, who is unmistakably upset. He’s rigid, staring at Dan’s hands as they slide around your body like he’s trying to light them on fire with his mind. His lips are pursed and his free hand is clenching and unclenching at his side.

Dan starts laying kisses on your neck, bringing his hands up against your rib cage, inching closer to your breasts. Javi takes a step forward, then back, and he runs a hand over his face. He looks like he’s fighting with himself, and you know exactly what the topic of contention is. You roll your shoulders to shoo your fiancé, wincing as you chide him, “Dan, stop.”

He doesn’t stop pawing at you, so you turn around to scold him. The boozy sly smile on his face takes you by surprise, and you jerk your head back. He puts your chin in a vice grip and leans in to kiss you. You step back and plead, putting your palms out towards him as you shake your head, “Hey, come on, don’t-“

“You come on, babe,” he purrs and grips your waist to pull you close. His mouth presses against yours and you feel his tongue trying to gain entry. It makes your stomach churn as you recoil, screaming internally for this to end.

“Stop, Dan, please,“ you whine in a shaky voice. When you push against his chest and lean away, panic seeps into your bloodstream. Your pulse quickens and you resist the urge to curl up in a ball atop the dirty cement.

“Hey, she said no,” Javi snaps. You cease movement and gaze up at him with pleading eyes. His face is a cold machine you barely recognize. It sends a shiver down your spine.

In response, Dan growls in frustration, then grabs your wrist and drags you stumbling along behind him towards the shed. He doesn’t break his stride when he calls back, “Mind your own fucking business, Peña.”

The panic grapples in your chest until it finds something different to utilize. Instead of feeling like you're seconds away from hibernating within yourself, you start to feel your skin trying to fly off of your bones.

Get off get off get off

“Dan, fucking let go of me!” you dig your heels into the cement and throw your weight down, breaking his hold. Javi catches you before you fall on your ass again. He steadies you, then puts himself between you and Dan, who’s backtracking towards you. His blue eyes have turned black. He looks like he’s been possessed by a demon. But you know that this is him, really. This is him at his core. His mask has slipped. He looks like he would rip you apart with his bare hands if he could get ahold of you. A tight coil of fear implants itself inside your belly, twisting and turning, making you feel nauseous.

Javi puts a hand up towards Dan in an attempt to calm him. Dan stares around Javi like he’s not even a human, just an obstacle between him and the thing he wants to destroy. He oscillates back and forth, trying to find a point of attack, never breaking eye contact with you, then starts ranting, “You crazy fucking cunt, you’re making a huge mistake. Make me seem like the fucking bad guy. Ok. You have no idea what I’m capable of, bitch. I will fucking ruin you.”

“Stop-“ Javi cautions.

“Shut the fuck up, Peña. Can’t believe this bitch has you caping for her. You been spending a lot of time with my wife, huh? Don’t let her get your hopes up, she’s a selfish fucking cock tease. Gets what she wants and then takes pussy off the table, fucking bitch-“

“I’m not your fucking wife,” you spit. Even though you can’t see Javi’s face, you know his eyes are glued to Dan. You see him close his fist around a lighter and keep it there. The writing is on the wall.

Dan is pacing like a caged animal. You’re his prey. His face is blazing red and shiny with sweat. A stick of dynamite about to fucking detonate.

“Yeah and at this rate you never fucking will be. Try me. You think someone else is going to put up with you? You think he’s going to put up with you?,” Dan points to Javi, who slowly tilts his head at the comment. He keeps raving, “You crazy fucking cunt. I give you everything you could ever want and this is how you thank me? No wonder your own parents don’t even fucking love you-“

Dan has such tunnel vision in his tirade against you, he doesn’t notice Javier come at him, red hot. Javi throws his weight into a blow to Dan’s face, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sick wet thud of skin-on-skin contact is loud enough to make you jump back and gasp in surprise.

“ENOUGH!” Javi screams, then stands over Dan, who is crouched, clutching his face. Javi pulls him up by his shirt, leveling his eyes with the agitator. He pokes a finger against Dan’s chest and growls through gritted teeth, “If you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, I will fucking kill you, do you understand me, motherfucker?”

He pushes Dan stumbling backward and watches him regain his composure, at which point, Dan seems like he’s going to try to get into Javi’s face. However, Kim saunters up past Javi, towards Dan, and pats her brother’s chest, signaling him to follow, “Come on, Daniel. Don’t be an idiot. Let’s go back to my place and get some sleep.”

You feel Claudia come up behind you and grab your tingling hand as you watch Dan huff, then begrudgingly follow his sister out into the alleyway. Once he’s out of sight, you turn to her, and your face crumbles when you meet her sad eyes. You sob, “I’m so sorry, Claud.”

She pouts, eyes pooling with tears, then pulls you in for a hug and whispers, “Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

You hug her back as you choke out, “I know it’s just- I didn’t want it to be like this when you were here.”

She gives you an extra tight squeeze and takes a step back to look into your burning, teary eyes, “It’s ok, I promise, it’s ok. I love you.”

You sniffle and squeak, “I love you too.”

She nods, then retreats so Javi can console you. He draws you close and you melt into his embrace, sobbing against his chest, apologizing profusely. He pets your hair, kisses your forehead, sways you back and forth. His deep voice like lullaby calms you as he mumbles words of affirmation into your ear, trying to undo the damage of Dan’s scathing tirade.

“I love you, cariño,” he whispers, mustache tickling your cheek, “Do you two want to come to my house?”

You shake your head, “I- I have to bring Claudia to the airport tomorrow morning. All her stuff is there-“

“I’ll stay with you there, then,” he decides.

“Ok,” you draw a shaky breath. This brings you a considerable amount of comfort. As if it knows you’re out of immediate danger and can now concentrate on less pressing concerns, your stomach growls. You sniffle, “Can we make nachos?”

He burst out laughing, then takes your hand in his, kissing it before telling you,“Absolutely, baby, let’s go make some nachos.”

The three of you collectively have enough sense to make nachos in the oven without burning the house down, thankfully.

“I love you guys,” you tell them as you curl up on Javi’s lap with a plate of nachos. Dawn of the Dead, one of your comfort movies, plays on the TV. Like the drunk slob you are, you continue talking after shoving a chip in your mouth, “Like, you’re my two favorite people ever. And I get to eat nachos with you both right now. This is the best.”

“It’s pretty fucking stellar,” Claudia agrees, then looks at Javi, “Although, sorry, Jav, you’re not one of my favorite people yet. Maybe someday, though. You stood up for my best friend and I think that’s very favorite-people worthy.”

“Honorable mention, at least,” you contend, looking to your beau with love in your eyes.

He shrugs and winks at Claudia, “I’ll get there someday.”

Being the most responsible (see: sober) one in the house, and an actual sweetheart, Javi herds you and Claudia’s into your bed when the movie is over and the nachos are gone. He goes out into the living room to sleep on the couch.

You and Claudia giggle and joke around as you fall into a sleepy drunk delirium. Judy settles into the space between you and vibrates with happiness as she sleeps. Claudia turns on her side to face you and whispers, “I really like him. And the two of you together. I’ve never seen you this happy.”

You giggle and take a few long blinks, “Which is saying something considering what a fucken mess it is.”

“It’s cute,” she yawns, then rubs her eyes, “You ‘n’ Javi, not mess. Mess’snot so cute.”

“He’s the one, Claud. Gonna marry him. Have his babies. I know it,” you mumble. She’s already snoring.

[ Next Chapter ]

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elevatorladylady · 1 year

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Critical Reread - Chapter 18

Join me on a reread of A Court of Frost and Starlight

Chapter 18 - F/eyre

Lucien comes to visit. F/eyre finds out what the bat boys are up to.

“The last Solstice I’d experienced had been at the Spring Court. With Ianthe. And Tamlin.”

I really wish we knew more about what they did for Winter Solstice.

“Both trying to lead the humans who occupied the sliver of land at the southernmost end of Prythian. Left ungoverned for so long. Too long. No king or queen remained in these lands. No memory of their name, their lineage.”

This is the laziest world building ever.

“I wondered if the humans had taken to using only lord as a title thanks to the High Fae who lurked above the wall.”

What is F/eyre on about? Why would the humans adopt anything from the fae at this point? They probably still hate the fae.

“Vassa and Jurian are two sides of the same coin.”

Remember when F/eyre said this about her and Nesta because she didn’t actually begrudge her sister as much as the fandom does.

“You could come live here, is all I’m saying,” I pushed. “Truly live here, stay in Velaris for longer than a few days at a time. We could get you nicer quarters—”

She really wants everyone to love Velaris the way she does, doesn’t she?

“Lucien got to his feet. “I don’t need your charity.” I rose as well. “But Jurian and Vassa’s is fine?”

This is such a rude thing to say to someone who already feels like they are being offered something out of pity or obligation.

“Friends, I realized. They had somehow become his friends. “So you’d rather stay with them?”

Why can’t Lucien have friends outside of F/eyre? They aren’t that close. Did she expect him to completely fold into her life despite the fact that her life offers very little to Lucien?

“That you now feel more comfortable with humans than with the High Fae. If you ask me—”

And what is this bullshit? First of all, isn’t she supposed to be better than the fae that think they are better than humans? Second, she was human for all but one year of her life. Third, Lucien let himself be tortured to protect his human friend, F/eyre.

“It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without homes of their own as well.”

Why does F/eyre even say this? Is it because she does actually know that Lucien can’t feel at home in Velaris? To remind him of the home that has crumbled because of her actions? Or to suggest that Jurian and Vassa aren’t people worthy of being chosen as friends, just a bad crowd that he “fell in” with.

“You have a name for yourselves.” I fought my incredulous tone.”

Rich coming from a girl who was starry eyed over R/hysand’s telling her about his Court of Dreams.

“But I asked, “And what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do? Host events? Organize party-planning committees?”

He just told her about all of the work they were doing in the human lands.

“Lucien’s metal eye clicked faintly and narrowed. “You can be as much of an asshole as that mate of yours, you know that?” True. I sighed again. “I’m sorry. I just—”

I feel like this is meant to absolve F/eyre of being an asshole just because she acknowledged it was true.

“I’d created that rift. Ripped it apart with my own two hands. I didn’t quite feel guilty enough to warrant apologizing for it. Not yet. Possibly not ever.”

Again, acknowledgement without accountability.

“You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully.” I didn’t want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day. “My business with him is done.”

Lucien is one of the few people in this story with any sense. Of course they would need Tamlin, and F/eyre cannot avoid him forever if she actually wants to do anything for human/fae relations as High Lady.

“I’m sorry to have caused him trouble, R/hys said.”

I don’t think R/hys would have done anything differently if he knew it would cause Lucien trouble.

“Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit.”

I guess having friends is bullshit. Oh wait, sorry, friends outside of the IC is bullshit.

“I don’t like to see either of you unhappy.”

This is a good spot for F/eyre to land with Elucien.

“Let him live with his Band of Exiles. Let him deal with Tamlin in his own way. Let him figure out where he wants to be. Who he wants to be. The same goes with her.”

Good advice coming from Mor.

“I arched a brow. “And you—are you happy?”

Are we actually going to understand anything about Mor’s interior life when we get to her book?

#anti sjm #sjm critical #ell reads #ell reads ACOFAS

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windslar · 7 months

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People You'd Like to Get to Know Better

i was tagged by @druidberries. Thank you!!

Tag under the cut because I went on a whole spiel about a popular novel that catches a lot of flak online and I don't know how to shut up (spoiler: it features 20-something-year-olds who open up brick-and-mortar businesses in downtown Boston like it's nothing, and trash in the form of a man named Kyle with an R).

Last Song: From the Start - Laufey

Favorite Color: Sage Tint by Benjamin Moore

Currently Watching: Only Murders in the Building and Modern Family (I watched the first couple seasons but never finished it. It's such a good background show).

Last Movie: Last one I watched in the theatres was Oppenheimer, but the last one I watched on streaming was Disenchanted (lol). I need more James Marsden in my life, especially after his performance in Jury Duty.

Currently Reading: It Ends with Us by Colleen Hoover. Before you get the pitchforks, I'm only reading it because of the ~discourse~. Besides, I had it downloaded in my Kobo long before it really blew up on tiktok and my curiosity was reignited after I saw the uproar about the casting. I have a lot of problems with this book: (1) it's not well-written and I should've put the book down the moment she started writing letters to Ellen Degeneres and thought she was a good celebrity for being charitable, (2) it doesn't delve into the systemic issues that play a role in why women stay with their ab*ser, (3) the marketing for this book ain't shit for categorizing it a romance novel. BUT, all my problems aside, I don't think the story itself romanticizes domestic ab*se and I think most readers recognize this (see this Slate article that talks about it better than I could). Here's an excerpt:

It seems like this part of the novel’s plot could be read in two very different ways: one, which the Mary Sue seems to pursue, is that Lily doesn’t react to ab*se in the appropriate way, and the book endorses all of her choices, and therefore both deserve condemnation. The other is an exercise in empathy: Hoover wrote an imperfect book on domestic violence, but if we require all of these narratives to be morally unimpeachable, there’s no room to acknowledge that there is no such thing as a perfect victim.

I haven't finished the book, but I read Kyle with an R doesn't get a satisfying comeuppance proportional to his actions. And while it would be nice to see the trash taken out, isn't this ending plausible and representative of a common experience among families with a history of ab*se?

I think my big criticism with the backlash surrounding this book and others like it is the assumption that their readers are "impressionable young girls". Not every work of fiction needs to portray the protagonist as a hero in every sense of the word. Not every positive quality assigned to a villain is "making the character redeemable". Not every work of fiction is meant to be didactic and scrutinized as if it were instructions on how to live a perfect life. Maybe I'm giving more credit where it's due, but I really think most readers are able to think critically. People love reading about complicated characters in messy situations. And while I think the characters in Hoover's book could be written better and fleshed out a lot more, that is neither here nor there. My point is: stop assuming women are stupid and incapable of forming their own opinion. Enjoyment of fiction is not endorsement of the actions exhibited by deeply flawed characters.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Savory. But after writing all that and posting it here on tumblr, maybe SPICY.

Last Thing I Googled: That Slate article so I could link it and before that I googled Blake Lively and learned that she has 4! children.

Current Obsession: Rowing! But only if I have an episode of Modern Family playing.

Currently Working On: TJOLC posts, Lightflower is kind of on the back burner right now on account of I-hate-posing-sims and the next few scenes require a lot of it. I just wish there was AI that would pose my sims for me based on dialogue I've written. I would betray my principles, climb up the paywall if I have to.

I'm tagging anyone who sees this and

(ETA: look at me getting cut off by my own self. Sorry I was distracted and heating up some food while typing this, but yeah, I tag anyone who sees this.)

#text post #get to know me #tag

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ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 1 year

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i have a thing to say, idk where I'm going with this but pls listen. The people who are hating on harry the most are only those who are chronically online. I'm sure that no artist or celebrity is popping veins because harry styles won AOTY.

this is the thing with being chronically online, one of my fav memes that I saw and still think about is the one whic goes:

person 1: I love apple

person 2: so are you saying you hate oranges?

this is literally how chronically online ppl act. there is absolutely no nuance, no grey area... everything is just black or white in this situation.

first about him deserving AOTY, yes he did. Harry's house (regardless of if anyone likes it or not) stayed up in charts, was played multiple times, is critically acclaimed and has several accolades. so is the case with Renaissance correct. but the thing about these nominations are that there is possibility of winning and losing indefinitely. Did Harry's house deserve to win? this is a question which is very subjective. those who likes it will say yes and those who don't will say their fav album but painting hs3 as some sort of a charity case that harry winning that award is extremely shocking, never thought of never been done before is case of extreme delusional imo. all the albums which were nominated were for a reason, which means the probability of any album winning was the same as harry winning. it was in competition for a reason. imo I get the anger that people have because beyonce has been snubbed from AOTY for many yrs but imo that is a frustration that should be taken upon recording academy and not harry. I have barely seen tweets and posts about ppl being angry at RA but more about how harry didn't deserve it. AOTY was deserved by every nominee if they were nominated at the first place.

now about his speech, what harry said yes I agree it sounds tone deaf. I know what he means, his fans know what he meant but I can understand how GP thought of it. I hope in the future harry minds his words and practice beforehand how to approach this situation. But I also have to add this thing, that I have seen several ppl wanting to "cancel" him, several ppl making fake tweets about how lizzo and Adele weren't happy, several ppl digging into his old tweets wanting to find racism...in one way harry should've been considerate but on the other way there is minimal actual disappointment but rather "let's jump on this bandwagon to hate on him"

anyways my advice to your other anon as well is to refrain yourself from "chronically online" people. Acknowledge that harry can and make mistakes. hold him accountable. but also find nuances and differences between an emotion out of vengeance and an emotion of actual disappointment. find difference between people who preach and people who listen and people who make you understand.

lastly, harry should've been careful with his words. and I hope he keeps that in mind. but do I think the world will end because of this? no. do i think Harry's house deserved the award? hell yes and I'm proud of his accomplishment.

i agree with a bunch, kind anon, but i do want to note that harry is probably one of the most censored artists out there in terms of what actually genuinely comes out of his mouth. does the speech sound out of touch? i guess, if you actually believe someone who is really a white cishet man could think he's a minority, but that seems kinda unlikely tbh. it seems like ppl are just ready to hate on anything harry says. bc a more logical interpretation of the speech would be - "hm. this sounds like something who is a minority would say. maybe he is one of us." was it the Smartest thing to say in a situation where no one gets him? no. but do i stand behind the idea that he should shut up even more than he already does? also no.

and then about the grammys... *deep sigh* why do people fucking care so much?

#kind anon #i know you didn't mean it but i really don't care about the grammys and who tf got 'snubbed' i Really don't #it doesn't matter #literally does not #taste is subjective and even that is something harry said in his speech lol #but ofc everyone forgot about that

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years

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hey, i saw that anon’s ask and that’s really...inconsiderate? for them to say. you have evey right to be angry and i am for you too.

first off, writing so many works in such a short amount of time is so much work! kinktober and then the hotel california series...i can’t even imagine. plot line and storybuilding and character traits, even if it’s just blurbs or shorter things, those takes a lot of thinking. writing is a creative art and takes out a lot from you. after all, it’s bringing to the world what ideas you have in mind and that’s not easy. things like word count...does having more words really make a story better? no.

i know the anon was disappointed but...they need to have realistic expectations and understand that us writers have our own principles when it comes to writing, such as quality > quantity. or that hey, sometimes things fit long and not. i feel like word count doesn’t count as feedback, because feedback to us is about the quality of writing rather than the length. perhaps something more constructive would be “hey, i think you could’ve expanded on this part of taeyong’s character because it would make the story even more interesting!” or “the ending was confusing, maybe you could explain it more”.

but the whole thing about how everyone always wants, expects something grand from us writers...like yeah, requests are fine but some people feel entitled to give the asks like you mentioned that you receive and that’s totally not fair. we writers are humans too and saying that kind of thing really shows how...how it feels to be essentially used as an outputter for content even though i know for a fact most of us write for ourselves and have chosen to share it with the world because we want to. it’s so much more draining and easier to burn out otherwise.

sorry that you have to deal with those kinds of asks. you have every right to be angry and everything.

Y’all really pulled up for the ‘protect and support Jackie’ squad and I'm literally so touched 🥺🥺🥺

You have no idea how validating it is to read this message, I cannot thank you enough. Everything you said - you’ve literally taken the words out of my mouth. There is 100% a proper way to give constructive criticism, but I know so many do not know how to do that. Saying shit like “oh, it wasn’t long enough” isn’t helping, nor does it give a direction to take things in. Exactly like you’ve said!!

I’ve been so grateful to myself lately because of how much I've been able to write. I seriously haven’t had this much time, motivation, or inspiration to write like this in such a long time. I’m still proud of what I've done, and I really appreciate you saying these things. To have such a thing be acknowledged and even praised is so validating, you have no idea. But, like you’ve said, writing this much can really be very mentally draining, too! There have even been some nights where I have to force my eyes open and mentally jog my brain to stay awake to finish a chapter cause I want to get it out that night. It’s both physically and mentally exhausting.

Literally though!!! I can’t count the amount of times where I've been writing a fic and I'll get to the end of a scene and go, “this seemed like it would be longer in my head” but it is what it is, I have to accept that and move on. Yes, a lot of my fics (especially my full length ones) have gotten longer lately, because I've also grown as a writer. However, there are also going to be times where they’re not going to be very long, and I deserve to write those short ones just as much as the longer fics! I deserve mental breaks through writing, and I also deserve to not have people have these unrealistic expectations, as you’ve mentioned, that every fic of mine is going to be something like 20k words. I reiterate, these are technically also drabbles! Drabbles are meant to be short!! Like??????

Don’t get me wrong, when I want them, I do really enjoy receiving certain types of requests, like for drabbles of these kinktober prompts. But just like I have a right to deny a request, I have a right to make a request as long or as short as I want. I’m just glad you reached out to tell me this and it feels so validating to know you feel the same.

Thank you so much for this message, you have no idea how much I appreciate it!!

#ask #literally the sweetest #omg #Thank You #!!!

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kingsmakers · 2 years

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The odds for Remy

1. How old are they?

At the start of the fic, Remy is 17 years old. 3. What is their romantic/sexual orientation?

I would say pansexual, though she doesn’t really get much of a chance to explore relationships with women. 5. What do they look like?

She has light brown hair and blue eyes. Fairly tall with some curves, considered to be relatively pretty. 7. Does their name have a meaning?

Like yeah? But if you mean did I choose it because of its meaning, no. 9. Do they have a good relationship with their family?

Remy’s adoptive parents are workaholics and she feels they don’t often have time for her, which leads to a lot of resentment. Her biological parents are a whole different story, involving many spoilers. 11. Where do they live?

In Hawkins, Indiana. 13. Are they poor, middle-class or wealthy?

Like...upper middle class? 15. Who is their best friend?

It was Nancy, but they fell out at the start of high school. Sadly, Remy doesn’t have many real friends, but she and Nancy will get the chance to rekindle their friendship. She and Robin also have a fun bond. 17. Who is the person they hate most in the world?

Billy Hargrove. 19. Have they ever fallen in love?

Yep, although it takes her some time to admit it. 21. Does that person love them back?

He does, he is taken with her before she even realises her own feelings. 23. Are they a good shoulder to cry on?

Oh god no. Remy dishes out advice in a very blunt fashion, and she is not one to really show a lot of sympathy. She gets better at it, but she’s never the sort of person to sit there and tell you things will be okay if they won’t. 25. How do they handle being complimented?

Absolutely loves it. She preens. She knows she’s pretty and though she wants to be more than just that, she also like people acknowledging that she’s good-looking. 27. Are they very driven?

Initially no. She kind of just goes with the flow. But as time goes on, Remy sort of realises that she’s actually very clever, and could do a lot more with herself. 29. What kind of state is the world that they live in?

I mean, constantly inundated with Upside Down drama, so... 31. Does the character worry about their place in society?

Yeah, I would say so. She doesn’t want to be a stay at home mum and just like an average little lifestyle. 33. Do they like themselves?

Initially, no. She knows she’s not a good person and though she’s come to terms with that, it’s not something she likes about herself. But Remy does work to improve how she interacts with other people. 35. Are they very forgiving?

Absolutely not. 37. Are they trustworthy?

Not to begin with. 39. How do they react to criticism?

Very aggressively. Remy does not like hearing about the things she is doing wrong, but she gets better at accepting it. 41. Can they fight?

In her own way, yes. 43. Have they ever been seriously injured?

Not yet, but we shall see. 45. Do they have any other survival skills?

She has some tricks up her sleeve, I’ll say that for her. 47. How intelligent are they?

Very, though sometimes you wouldn’t know it with how she acts. 49. What is their job?

Currently, a high school student.

#asks #remy saunders

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ellielesvia · 3 months

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I almost never ask anything anonymously but for this question I do not want to take the bullying by others who read it in case it’s taken wrongly.

I am a 30 yo gay woman though when I was younger (pre age 19) I considered myself bisexual.

My partners and I now use several different toys including strapless dildos and strapon dildos.

Every time I see a beautiful transgender woman I wonder if she wants to keep the parts she has… have surgery… etc.

You mentioned you like yours and it’s staying. Which takes me to my question… does it still work? How does the estrogen affect it? If it does work, do you like using it with women? Oral? Vaginal? Anal? Hands?

Please take this as someone who is as curious as I was the first time I saw, touched one way back in my single digits.

So this is a series of questions for which the answers will vary wildly from person to person, both physiologically and in terms of personal preference. I'm going to give my answers in probably more detail than you were expecting, lol, so strap in (and on?).

Let me start by addressing the comment at the top, because I think it's important to acknowledge before getting to the question itself. This might be a long post, but I promise I will get to your questions by the end.

You say you're worried about others taking your question the wrong way. Let's explore that. This type of questioning can definitely veer into invasive and/or objectifying territory, depending on how it's being asked, who's asking, why, and who's being asked. I assume based on your concern that you've seen trans women react negatively to being asked these kinds of questions. I can understand wanting to avoid any negative reactions, but I also think it's important to be open to some amount of criticism here, when the questions being asked are of a potentially very private, sensitive, vulnerable nature. I myself am very open to these types of questions, so long as they are asked in good faith, because I take it upon myself to be open to educating people on transness whenever I can. And I'm here to horny-post about my own body anyway. But not every trans person should have to do that- it's nobody's obligation to give out personal medical information about their genitals except to their doctors and their intimate partners.

That being said, and while I am open to answering such questions (even from random anonymous people), I still get irked by questions like these on occasion. It's particularly bad on dating apps, when someone you barely know wants details about your genitals so they can decide whether you're worthy of their attraction or not. While I understand that some people's attraction may hinge on these details, it's a pretty shitty feeling to be on the receiving end, getting graded on your genitals by a horny stranger who doesn't give a shit about you (and often one who could answer their own questions with a simple google search- I once literally referred someone to the wikipedia page for 'transgender' in a short-lived dating app conversation). To be clear, I am not accusing you of this, and I am completely comfortable answering these questions here, but I think it's important to address, to help you understand why there might be a stigma around asking trans people these questions, and why you might receive a negative reaction to asking them, depending on who, how, and why you're asking them.

Alright, on to my actual answers.

I like my cock just fine the way it is. This was not always true. I had dysphoria around it when I was younger, but transitioning both socially & medically have made me feel much more comfortable in it, along with a couple other factors: 1) I see a lot of people desiring women with both boobs & cocks these days (even the popularity of 'futanari' porn is kind of nice to see, since that's basically just me in hentai form), which helps with body image; 2) it's not a part of me that anyone gets to see unless I'm already comfortable with them being intimate with me, so it doesn't cause people to misgender me; 3) I actually had surgery some years ago to remove one of my testicles that had developed a cancerous tumor (and while I like my cock, I'm at best neutral about what's below it, so having only one testicle and a *much* smaller scrotum as a result is very positive for me).

My cock still works fine, but it has been changed somewhat by the estrogen. For many trans women, it will shrink and become a micropenis, which I know some people like because it feels more like a clit (and the penis and clit are essentially the same body structure anyway, just developed differently depending on what hormones were dominant in your early life and development). I'm in my third year of full hormone replacement therapy, and I think it's safe to say at this point that this is not happening to me. I am glad about this, personally. I like my cock the way it is, and I do not want it to shrink. That being said, the estrogen causes the aroused size of my penis to be much more of a range than a static number these days. Previously, my aroused length was around 5.5-6.5 inches, but these days it's more like anywhere from maybe 3.5 to 6.5. I find that my length varies a lot based on hormonal cycles and time since my last orgasm. Additionally, while the size still increases when aroused, I do not get as 'hard' as you might expect. Even at 6 inches, it's still kind of soft, which makes penetration difficult. I actually have pills that I take for this on occasion, same as someone with erectile dysfunction would, because I enjoy being able to use mine in that way.

As for what I enjoy doing with it, I absolutely use it in sexual activities with my partners (not just 'women,' mind you; I am a lesbian and have no interest in men, but I have currently & have had in the past my fair share of nonbinary partners). I have no particular interest in using it for anal sex (though if I ever have a partner who is interested in receiving anal, I'm sure we'll work something out), but I regularly use it in all the other ways you mentioned. However, the most successful way I have found to stimulate it is through vibration. My vibrator is my best friend. Ultimately, it's just a strapless, sensitive, dildo-sized & dildo-shaped clit with added organic functions, and that's how I treat it. I enjoy using it for penetration, but I generally do hand or vibration activities to actually reach orgasm with it.

#ellie's answers

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gyuyoungarchives · 9 months

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💬 Highlights from Dazed Interview on Celebrity

- Gyuyoung on Ari's "expressionless" face, why she loves acting so much, and who she thinks is super cute lately.

I binge-watched up to episode 12 of "Celebrity" in just two days.

- Thank you. It's been over a year since filming ended, and everyone said, "If you forget about it, it will come out," but I just couldn't forget. (Laughs)

The vibrant and dynamic portrayal of "Ari," charging forward, feels vivid. Was it refreshing to act in those scenes?

- Yes, it was. In fact, through Ari, I was able to fill in many aspects that I couldn't experience in my daily life. And Ari is filled with such strong energy. A person who has the courage to express her opinions without hesitation. In that aspect, I also gained energy from her.

Speaking of becoming a celebrity, how has it been for you?

- Oh, (Laughs) it's a very glamorous world, and it's nice to receive a lot of compliments, but there are also more painful aspects than I expected.

Ari doesn't seem to express that pain outwardly. I examined Park Gyuyoung's eyes closely in each episode.

- Depending on the actor, each character is portrayed quite differently. Someone else might have portrayed Ari with a bigger reaction. I mainly focus on what comes out through me. Maybe because I'm still inexperienced (Laughs), Ari's reactions and expressions might reflect the way human Park Gyuyoung expresses herself.

Were there unexpected aspects?

- Usually, when watching the screen, I think, "Did I have that expression? Do I really look like that? I can't just have a blank expression like that." Those kinds of thoughts crossed my mind. I didn't realize my blank expressions could appear so cold. It's a bit of a contrast from my usual self when I smile and when I don't.

Thoughts on acting?

- If it were just me, I probably would have stayed at home, but (I'll be playing a) character (who) runs around like Ari. Some characters I portrayed gave me a baseball bat, some had me wear nurse uniforms, and some even had me wear heels that were almost 20cm tall. While the physical boundaries of daily life might have become narrower, the range of experiences I can have has truly expanded.

Is human Park Gyuyoung someone who gets bored easily?

- While acting, I've gained a broader perspective on things I hadn't thought about before, actions I wouldn't have taken on my own.

Kim Cheolgyu, the director of "Celebirty," said in an interview, "I was looking for an actor with a fresh feeling, and Park Gyuyoung was suitable for that.

- If there were areas where I lacked, I'd acknowledge it. I've never been complacent, and being considered fresh probably includes acknowledging areas where there's a lack of ability. On the other hand, I sometimes wonder if it's because I have a very distinct look. I like my unique face, so I always appreciate the feedback of being fresh.

You keep talking about your inexperience.

- In my opinion, that's necessary for improvement. While others should appreciate me for my good qualities, I feel it's more appropriate for me to have a bit of self-dislike. It's about finding the parts where I can improve. I feel that objectivity towards oneself is necessary for growth.

So, self-improvement seems to be driven by a bit of self-criticism? Were you always like that?

- Looking back, it feels like I've always been that way. If I did well, it was luck or something expected. Within my own thoughts, I don't think there are many things I've done well. People around me tell me to think more positively, and of course, there are positive aspects to my thinking. However, when it comes to what I do, I tend to be more pragmatic. I've recognized that aspect of myself. Maintaining a stable core without getting shaken is essential.

You've been doing that for about 7 years now. How do you feel when you look back?

- People truly change a lot over time. There were times when I couldn't shed many tears, and then there were times when tears seemed unavoidable. There were moments with abundant laughter, and then moments without it. There were times when I wasn't sensitive at all, and then times when I was overly sensitive. I couldn't be carefree all the time. Even now, I'm still changing. I'm still quite unstable. (Laughs)

What do you think about the idea of yourself constantly changing?

- I accept it. It doesn't seem bad. I've gone back and forth between extremes a lot during that time. It seems like an unavoidable part of life. During that time and process, good things can't always come to me. So, I think to myself, "There are good things and bad things. That's how it is.

"How do you give yourself encouragement, besides being self-critical?

- At moments when it's necessary, I say good things to myself. I endure by saying, "This should be part of your sense of responsibility, right?

In a previous interview, you used the expression "sense of responsibility" countless times.

- I'm a "responsibility bird." (Laughs) It's like a constant refrain. To me, it's natural, and it seems indispensable. While I shouldn't let the sense of responsibility weigh me down, I'm working with numerous staff members on set. So, I ensure that no one becomes a burden, and I avoid becoming one myself.

Listening to your answers, there seems to be an unwavering conviction. How do you navigate the line between anxiety and confidence?

- It seems like a constant back-and-forth. There are times when I'm anxious, and then there are comfortable times. And there are times when I feel anxious again. Like a somewhat unpleasant friend, I just carry that emotion with me. That's how I am now. Check back with me on this in 3 years. (Laughs)

Who does Park Gyuyoung admire?

- If there are aspects to admire in how a person treats others, their attitude towards themselves, their approach to work, their emotions, and various other aspects, then I become really fond of them. And if I discover cute qualities in between, I end up loving them even more.

Speaking of cute people, who has caught your attention recently?

- Among our makeup staff, there's (someone called) Sua. She's the youngest, and incredibly adorable. She has short hair and a round face, you have no idea how cute she is!

Are you good at expressing your affection for someone you care about? I'm curious about Park Gyuyoung's way of expressing herself.

- It's quite different. People have their own ways. I can't express myself like a puppy, doing this and that, and I'm constantly conscious... I really love expressions like '"I picked it up on my way here (for you)."' With really close people, I stick to them like a slime.

When do you feel most like yourself?

- Hmm... It's when I'm with the people I love the most. When I'm with them, I have no more wishes or expectations. I'm just myself around people who don't feel any pressure to give or receive anything. That's when I feel most like myself. But (it's) probably a side of me that many people haven't seen.

After this interview, I'm suddenly even more excited. Today, my goal is to discover the different faces of Park Gyuyoung.

- Does that feel burdensome? (Laughs) It still feels exciting. I've been looking forward to today's shoot and interview. I enjoy having fun. I don't dislike new things. It's a bit nerve-wracking (to try new things), but based on past experiences, I know I'll have a great time doing it.

Full Interview: http://www.dazedkorea.com/feature/article/2317/detail.do

#park gyu young #actress #kdrama #korean drama #celebrity #dazed korea #interview

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blakeattorneys · 1 year

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asoiaf-source · 2 years

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Ned Dayne calls Arya ‘My lady’

Often Arya likes to deny she is a lady (adjective) or being called a Lady or m’lady (nouns) but, people often quote it without noting the context in which she protests this.

Sometimes she feels inadequate in comparison to ‘real’ ladies and thus not ladylike enough, it is the adjective use of the word she is objecting to.

Arya looked down at her ragged clothes and bare feet, all cracked and callused. She saw the dirt under her nails, the scabs on her elbows, the scratches on her hands. Septa Mordane wouldn't even know me, I bet. Sansa might, but she'd pretend not to. "My mother's a lady, and my sister, but I never was." [ACOK - Arya V]

Sometimes it is in frustration in being forced into a role she doesn’t feel she can live up to, and resents being constantly found lacking. Again the adjective use, as she doesn’t want to made into one.

"That's enough." Her father's voice was curt and hard. "The septa is doing no more than is her duty, though gods know you have made it a struggle for the poor woman. Your mother and I have charged her with the impossible task of making you a lady." "I don't want to be a lady!" Arya flared. [AGOT - Arya II]

Sometimes it is to encourage herself, to give herself strength - which she never learned to associated with the word ‘lady.’

I'm not a lady, Arya wanted to tell her, I'm a wolf. [ASOS - Arya IV]

A common societal belief in Westeros of ladies being weaker, less capable or important, which is another reason she bulks against wanting to be seen this way.

"The woman is important too!" Arya protested. [AGOT - Arya I]

And how she feels when she is defeated and made to feel weak.

"Yes." That he was not Robb's man, she understood well enough. And that she was his captive. I could have stayed with Hot Pie. We could have taken the little boat and sailed it up to Riverrun. She had been better off as Squab. No one would take Squab captive, or Nan, or Weasel, or Arry the orphan boy. I was a wolf, she thought, but now I'm just some stupid little lady again. [ASOS - Arya III]

Sometimes it is because she doesn’t want to be elevated above others, like Gendry and Hot Pie. Feeling like it is a separator (which it is) between herself and others that she likes as friends. She doesn’t like to acknowledge the difference, perhaps something she learned observing Jon and not wanting to make him or others feels less than, like he must have felt at times - I’m sure she would have notice that.

"Lem didn't think so," Arya said glumly. Then it was time to go. When Hot Pie asked if he might kiss milady's hand, she punched his shoulder. "Don't call me that. You're Hot Pie, and I'm Arry."

- - -

"Would m'lady permit? Could I shoe your horses for you, and make swords for your lordly brothers?"

Sometimes he made her so angry. "You stop that!"

But then, you get this conversation in ASOS - Arya VIII between Ned Dayne and Arya that (to me) informs the reader on how Arya thinks about being called a lady in normal interactions.

No judgements, no mockery, no criticism, just two people having a polite conversation.

"My lady?" Ned said at last. "You have a baseborn brother . . . Jon Snow?"

"He's with the Night's Watch on the Wall." Maybe I should go to the Wall instead of Riverrun. Jon wouldn't care who I killed or whether I brushed my hair . . . "Jon looks like me, even though he's bastard-born. He used to muss my hair and call me 'little sister.'" Arya missed Jon most of all. Just saying his name made her sad. "How do you know about Jon?"

Arya just meet Ned, she doesn’t consider him a friend or anything, he is politely making conversation (about her favorite topic Jon, can’t hurt) and she never bulks at being called a lady by him. Even when Gendry mocks them for it.

"You have a House?" That was stupid; he was a squire, of course he had a House. "Who are you?"

"My lady?" Ned looked embarrassed. "I'm Edric Dayne, the . . . the Lord of Starfall."

Behind them, Gendry groaned. "Lords and ladies," he proclaimed in a disgusted tone. Arya plucked a withered crabapple off a passing branch and whipped it at him, bouncing it off his thick bull head. "Ow," he said. "That hurt." He felt the skin above his eye. "What kind of lady throws crabapples at people?"

"The bad kind," said Arya, suddenly contrite. She turned back to Ned. "I'm sorry I didn't know who you were. My lord."

"The fault is mine, my lady." He was very polite.

Not only does she never bulk at being called a lady numerous times, she even calls him ‘My lord’ in kind. She was taught correct noble etiquette, she knows how to act in a polite conversation and reacts accordingly.

In fact, the Brotherhood in general call her ‘my lady’ quite often, and she doesn’t respond negatively to it. She knows they know who she is and takes it as a matter of course most of the time, probably used to the people about Winterfell calling her ‘my lady’ all the time, again in normal interactions where she isn’t being judged.

Anyway, I always thought this little interaction with Ned was enlightening, but I never see people comment on it or use it as a reference. But, it is one of the few times in the series when Arya is dealing with someone with a title having a normal conversation and she has no problems defaulting to polite speech.

#asoiaf #book!arya #topic titles #topic character analysis #Arya Stark #asoiaf-fanworks #asoiaf meta #Arya Stark Meta

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dancing-in-a-yellow-dress · 3 years

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Trapped Little Angel (part 1)

Welcome to the first part of the first fanfic on this account.

Child!reader x the Avengers

Word count: 2900

Trigger warning: Imprisonment, nightmares, non graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, possible trigger for eating disorders

You were a 14-year-old orphan living alone in New York, since your family had died in the explosion that gave you your powers. Your powers were similar to Wanda’s (telekinesis and all that jazz). You got them when you were 7, but for whatever reason they hadn’t been active before that day.

It was a basic September day with all of its rain and fog and clouds. You were walking on the street when suddenly you blacked out and your powers exploded out of you destroying property and hurting people everywhere around you. The Avengers were called to action and they evacuated the block and when you’d cooled off a little they took you into custody and to the Avengers tower.

You had passed out and they didn`t really know what to do with you, so they laid you down on the couch and began a debate about the subject.

Tony believed firmly that you were dangerous to the team and the best thing for everyone would be to lock you up isolated and unstimulated to avoid new outbursts until a better option would be available. Steve backed Tony up to an extent, although he did believe the isolation to be unnecessary. Bruce didn’t really voice his opinion on confinement that much, instead focusing on the medical aspect of the situation.

Clint doesn’t really say much during the argument, before Tony raises the possibility of indefinite imprisonment in isolation. That is what finally gets to him, since you are just a kid and remind him of his own daughter. Wanda argues firmly against any form of forced imprisonment. In her opinion you needed medical attention, after which instead of locking you up the team should be focused on helping you control and develop your powers in a beneficial way.

Natasha is uncharacteristically quiet for the whole debate. Something about you had got to her and she found it hard to think of the situation objectively without a massive bias. Peter was on ‘your side’ for sure. To him you were a troubled kid who just happened to need some help. In a way he saw himself in you.

You start to regain consciousness about halfway through the argument. The Avengers are taken back at first, but when you are very confused and scared, Nat and Clint (who are the most ‘neutral’ participants) tell you what happened. When you have gotten the big picture you ask shakily: “How many people did I hurt? What’s the damage?” The others are hesitant to tell you, but Tony is highly pissed at you, so he takes his tablet and shows you some pics of the place where the accident happened. Wanda shoots him a death glare, but he continues and reads the statistics to you: “At this exact moment there are 9 people dead, 27 in critical condition and 56 with milder injuries. All because of your little stunt.” At this point you have pulled your knees to your chest and are struggling to breathe. Steve and Clint look at Tony like he has lost his mind and Nat tries to calm you down. You are repeating the same things over and over again: “I didn’t mean to- It’s all my fault… I don’t know how- What- I didn’t mean to…” Nat was approaching you, her hand reached out ready to stroke your back and pull you into a hug. She says: “We know. Everything will be alright, it’ll be alright. It wasn’t your fault, we’ll sort this out. It’s okay, you’re okay. We don’t blame you, but right now you need to calm down.” You flinch away from her, panic shining in your eyes: “No! Don’t touch me! I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t control it… I don’t understand- I didn’t mean to…” Suddenly you look desperately at Tony “You have to lock me up. I’m dangerous. I can’t be trusted. I have to be put away. Please”, you beg, surprising all of the other people in the room. Peter is about to say something, but Tony cuts him off.

You stand up and Clint shows you the way to a quite big cell. You step in and he shuts the door behind you. You sit on the floor in the corner and pull your knees to your chest. You just blankly stare at the wall. You noticed that there was a camera in corner of the room near the roof as you stepped inside, but you didn’t care. What did it matter. As you stayed on the floor the team was reheating the discussion whilst keeping an eye on the monitor that showed footage from your cell.

Wanda and Peter were shouting at Tony for locking you up in an isolation cell. Natasha and Clint were a bit calmer, but they were backing Wanda and Peter up. At some point Tony says: “You heard the kid. She wanted to be locked up. Even she thought it would be the best option”. And that sets Natasha off: “Yeah, after you had scared the poor thing on the verge of a panic attack. That wasn’t fair play. You drove her to that decision and you know it.” Then Peter fires: “Besides the whole ‘she decided herself’ excuse is bullshit. She’s a kid. SHE’S 14. I’m 17 and you don’t trust me to do anything yet, so how again is she any different?” That shuts Tony up.

In the end the team comes to the conclusion, that they will be monitoring you strictly and willing people will be allowed to go talk to you. All except Peter (just for the first few days) who is infuriated to no end by the decision.

The first person to come talk to you is Wanda. She comes and talks for a while, but you can’t make any sense of what she’s saying. After a while she leaves shutting the door behind her. Steve also comes to question you, and even though this time you understand what he is saying you can’t find the energy to answer him in you. Clint brings you something to eat and drink, but you don’t move a muscle to acknowledge the act. Time sort of looses its meaning to you as you sit on the floor and stare into nothing, alone with your thoughts, the same thoughts over and over and over again.

Nevertheless, you know some time has passed when Natasha comes through the door with another tray filled with food. She places it carefully on her untouched bed and sighs deeply before speaking: “You should really start eating on your own. It’s been two whole days and you haven’t taken a bite. I get that its hard, but you’ve got to try. Otherwise we’ll have no choice but to put a feeding tube down your throat and trust me kid, that does not feel good.” She gives you another look, then turns around and walks out. Slowly you straighten your legs on the floor.

You hadn’t really noticed how much your muscles were hurting for being in the same position for so long before someone pointed it out. You stretched your legs first and then stood up slowly. You went through your body, stretching every muscle one at a time and then sat down beside the bed to eat. You weren’t really hungry, but the threat of getting a feeding tube stuffed down your throat was enough to get you eating.

After you were done with the meal you went back to your corner and sat back down, leaving your legs laying on the floor instead of curling up to a tight bundle. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door and Wanda walked in. She picked the tray up and looked down at you, clearly assessing the situation before finally saying: ”Hey, I was wondering if you needed to use the bathroom.” You didn’t answer her but stood up and stepped timidly few steps forward so that she knew you’d be coming along. She guided you through the hallways and into a bathroom. “There is a towel on the counter and shampoo on a shelf in the shower. Take as long as you need. I’ll pick up some clean clothes for you and bring them here. Okay?” You didn’t say a word but nodded and opened the door to the bathroom. After half an hour you were back in your cell but feeling significantly cleaner and comfier.

Instead of sitting back in the corner on the floor you sat on your bed and crossed your legs. You didn’t know why, but you felt like it, so you started singing, first just humming quietly, then adding the words to the song. It was an old lullaby your mom had sang to you more than once. Some things just had a way of sticking with you.

`Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt kuuluu keijujen äänet

Ne tanssivat taas koko yön laulaen

koko yön laulaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

taas syttyy tähtöset pienet

Ne oottavat taas läpi yön loistaen

läpi yön loistaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt sammuu keijujen äänet

Ne liitävät taas ylös luo tähtien

ylös luo tähtien`

Then you sang it over again, this time in English

If your quiet, very quiet,

you can hear sound of the fairies

They’re dancing again through the night until day

through the night until day

Very quiet, almost silent

the stars are lighting the sky

they’re waiting again till the night fades away

till the night fades away

If you’re quiet, very quiet

you can hear sound the fairies

they race through the sky so they’ll be near the stars

so they’ll be near the stars

You sang the song a couple times over and finally you got to the last part you had made up on your own. You always ended it there, since you could never continue singing after that.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

ei kuulu keijujen äänet

Ne lähtivät taas minut yksin jättäen

minut yksin jättäen

Even if you’re very quiet

you won’t hear sound of the fairies

they flew up the sky leaving me alone behind

leaving me alone behind.

You broke down sobbing. Clint was sitting at the monitor, and he thought it’d be best not to disturb you, so you were left alone as you start humming another melody your mom taught you.

Joka ilta kun lamppu sammuu ja saapuu oikea yö Niin Nukku-Matti nousee ja ovehen hiljaa lyö On sillä uniset tossut ja niillä se sipsuttaa Se hiipii ovesta sisään ja hyppää kaapin taa

”I didn’t know she was finnish” Nastasha said to clint as she sat next to him with two cups of tea. “Finnish?” Clint asked as they listened to the beautiful melody coming from the lonely cell. Nat was quiet for a while before saying “Yeah. The language is absolutely bizarre.” They sat in silence for another while, until Clint said: “She sounds miserable” “Yeah, but who wouldn’t. I’m guessing she has no family, since no one has come asking for her.”

Ja pieni sateenvarjo on aivan kallellaan Ja sinistä unien kirjaa se kantaa kainalossaan Ja unien sinimaahan se lapset autolla vie Surrur, surrur ja sinne on sininen, uninen tie

Ja siellä on kultainen metsä, ja metsässä kultainen puu Ja unien sinilintu ja linnulla kultainen suu Ja se unien sinilintu se lapsia tuudittaa Se laulaa unisen laulun joka mielen uneen saa

Your mum never taught you that song in English. You had tried translating it, but it always turned out so peculiar you had eventually given up.

When you felt like you had cried enough you stopped with the finnish and started going through songs you had heard somewhere else, altering the lyrics as you went.

You hadn’t sung anything in weeks and now you just couldn’t stop. It felt good. You went over your favorites altering lyrics and making up new verses, not wanting the song to end. As you sang you thought about mum and home. In the outside world they were forbidden things, because they made it hard to focus on surviving. But here she had all the time in the world to think. After hours and hours she finally laid down on the mattress and drifted to sleep

Tony had just started his shift watching you through the monitor and you were having a nightmare. You were curled up in a ball and whimpered and muttered quietly, as tears ran down your face. You dug your nails into your back and started scratching leaving bloody red marks behind. Then you started screaming. The sound echoed through the halls, but Tony didn’t know what to do, so he ended up doing nothing, just staring at the screen paralyzed. It went on for a while, until you finally flinched so violently you woke up.

You were in a state of panic, but as you realized where you were it started to wear off. Little by little you started to feel the pain from the bloody scratch marks on your back and arms. You examined your injuries to the best of your abilities and then looked at the floor while talking sheepishly at the camera in the corner of the room: “If you don’t mind I’d like to have something to wrap these cuts with. I might also need some help with the ones in my back. Its not a big deal, but I don’t want them to get infected.”

The screaming had woken up Natasha and Steve who were now standing behind Tony, looking at the screen over his shoulders. Tony cleared his throat before turning around in his chair and facing the other two. They both had their arms crossed on their chest. Steve looked surprised as hell, but Natasha was quick to recover. She threw Tony an icy stare before saying: “Should we think the imprisonment over again, or is she still too dangerous for you to handle?” Tony raised his hands before saying: “Let’s think that over in the morning, when the whole team is up. Now, would you mind going to help her with the injuries?” Natasha threw Tony another dirty look, before grabbing the first aid kit and heading to your cell.

Nat came, and you laid on the bed on your stomach. She lifted your shirt, poured antiseptic solution on a cloth and warned you: “I’m sorry, but this is gonna hurt like a bitch.” She pressed the cloth gently on your back and you shrug. “It’s not that bad. You get used to pain as a homeless kid. Once I had to remove a bullet from my own shoulder.” There Nat saw an opportunity get little bit more information of you and continued the conversation: “Must be tough. I suppose you don’t have any family left?” “Yeah, mum and dad and Tom died… in an accident” you tensed up visibly. Nat continued unbothered but didn’t bring up the deaths again. “I heard you sing the other day. Didn’t know you were finnish.” “Oh, I’m not. My mom was.” “So, can you speak finnish or what?” “Nah, not anymore anyways. I used to, but I haven’t used it in a long time. Some things just stuck with me, like the songs, or silly pet names mum used to call us.” For some reason you felt really safe with Natasha. Her touch reminded you of home as she worked to clean your wounds and then wrap them with clean gauze. You knew it was silly, but it just felt so good to finally talk to someone, so you kept answering her as she continued asking questions. “Pet names, huh. What did she call you?” “She used to call me Lumikki. It’s the finnish for snow white. It’s cheesy as hell, I know but we lived in a little cottage in the woods, and I was obsessed with Disney.” Natasha smiled at you. “Do you remember anything else about your mum.” “She had the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. She sounded like an angel. Sometimes I hear her in the wind.” You pause for a minute “And she was a dancer. She used to be a ballerina, but then she had us and her career ended. She never quit dancing though. Once in a while she’d put on her slippers and go through some old routine, like she had never stopped. She even taught me some basics.” Natasha was quiet for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and continued: “Did you have any siblings?” “Yeah”, you were quiet for a moment, not rushing to continue “One brother. His name was Tuomas, but we all called him Tom. Three years older than me. He was my best friend.” A tear fell down your cheek. Natasha was almost done with wrapping your back so she asked one more question. “How about your dad” You shrugged. “He was a hunter. Spent most of his time with Tom out in the forest when I stayed in with mum.” Nat packed the medical supplies back to the first aid kit and pulled your shirt down so that it covered your back. Then she helped you sit up and said: “I can’t promise anything yet, but we’re having another meeting with the team about your… condition and I believe you might get out of here.” She saw the unsure look you gave her. “Don’t worry” she said as she took your hand “Everything will be alright. I promise”

Sorry, I have absolutely no idea what is going on with the spacing, tried to fix it but it wont budge... Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

#the avengers #mcu #fanfic #child!reader #tony stark #steve rogers #bruce banner #clint barton #natasha romanoff #peter parker #reader x avengers #child!reader x avengers

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frogtanii · 3 years

Note

hi! i absolutely loved the most recent chapter and it gave me an idea and inspired me to write this, i hope that's okay! after how you described atsumu's feelings about osamu drifting away it made me think that it's probably been affecting him for a while and i feel like he probably went to y/n at some point about it, so here's a little hurt/comfort drabble about that!

tonight, it had been the icy glance osamu sent his way as he prepped dinner on the kitchen island. his twin's stone grey eyes suspiciously following his movements as if he was analyzing and criticizing each and every little motion.

"'samu," atsumu acknowledged his brother trying to ease some of the tension, yet completely ignored the woman latched onto his side. osamu flicked his eyes back to his work, letting out a breathy scoff as he did so. atsumu knew his brother always hated people crowding him in the kitchen when he was trying to cook. so how was it that his own brother seemed to annoy him more than meiko's clingy grasp?

the action plunged a knife deep into his heart, and atsumu found himself frozen, staring at his brother. was it just him, or was the oxygen in the kitchen suddenly running low?

"'m just grabbing a drink, then i'll be outta yer way," he explained, not in the mood to deal with the pair.

but meiko had other plans. stroking her outgrown acrylics up and down osamu's biceps, meiko lifted herself on to her toes, pressing her rouge lips to osamu's ear. locking her malice striken eyes with atsumu's, she whispered into osamu's ear. it was quiet, but atsumu caught a few words. something about you, atsumu, and sexual favors; the same insult always. but what really twisted the knife already stuck in his heart was the way osamu laughed. he laughed. as if his own brother's emotions were something to be taken as a cheap joke.

so when osamu leaned down to whisper a response into meiko's ear with that same malicious gaze, atsumu decided he didn't want to stay and hear what his brother had to say. so he found himself storming out of the kitchen, drink forgotten. meiko and osamu's snickers fading as his feet instinctively carried him to your room.

however, he faultered upon reaching your closed door. would it really be the best idea idea bother you about this? He knows exactly what you'd say, something along the lines of "you could never bother me" or "i'm here for you no matter what."

but part of him couldn't help feeling guilty. here he was about to dump his problems onto your already heavy shoulders. yet his body started moving on its own and he couldn't stop himself; he wanted – no, needed – your comfort. so with three light raps on your door, he called out to you, "angel, it's me, can i come in?"

your voice sounded a muffled confirmation from the other side. wrapping a shaky hand around the doorknob, atsumu entered your dim room. you were nuzzled into your duvet, turned on your side to face the door as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone.

he must have looked pretty pitiful, because as soon as your eyes landed on his hunched form you shot out of bed, fully alert. you were in front of him in no time, bed sheets tossed carelessly to the floor in your haste.

"'tsumu, what happened? what's wrong?" your voice was so soft, so gentle, and your touch even more so. warmth spread across his cheeks as you cupped his face with both hands, your thumb skimming his cheek to clean the trail of tears. had he really been crying? he hadn't noticed.

when he didn't answer, you spoke again. "was it osamu again?" he nodded, god you really did know him so well. it wasn't the first time atsumu had confided in you about his broken relationship with his brother. but still, you just knew, just like how you knew exactly what he needed in this moment.

if you were angry – which you 100% were – you didn't let it show, more concerned with the boy in front of you. one of your hands traveled to the back of atsumu's neck to pull his head down to your shoulder while the other soothingly ran through his hair. "i'm so sorry 'tsumu. i've got you, you're okay." your voice was just above a whisper.

and that was all it took for atsumu to completely unravel. his arms wrapped themselves around your waist to pull you closer into him as he buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck. his tears had surely soaked through the fabric of your shirt by now, but you showed no indication of caring about that. instead, your fingers continued their ministrations in his hair, all the while you whispered sweet affirmations in his ear.

he relished in your warmth. god, was he glad he came to you. you, who had the weight of eleven peoples' hatred bearing down on your psyche. yet here you are, opening your arms to hold him as he sobbed, selfless as always. and in that moment he only hoped he could make you feel as safe in his arms as he did in your's right then.

"thank you," he mumbled into your neck suddenly. atsumu wanted to say so much more than that, but he couldn't find the words. so instead, his fists clenched the back of your shirt and pulled you closer to him, hoping his actions would portray more than his words could.

"of course," you whispered back. somehow, he knew you understood.

this turned out to be longer than i thought, sorry! it's a little rushed and not that great but i hope you like it!

— noah (anon)

(i might more in the future so i'll go by this name if that's okay)

WHAT IS W YALL DOWNPLAYING UR TALENTS CS THIS???? THIS????? IS INCREDIBLE BESTIE I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS and you bYE <3333 i would love it if u sent more of ur writing in!!!! l o v e l y

#j’s asks #anons babey #℗ poker face #noah anon

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kallulovesu · 3 years

Note

Heyooo :) can you do headcannons for a platonic yandere allies ?? Am aroace so that's the kind that floats my boat, also do you ever feel tired of writing ?? Like .. ur so productive, it's awsome but like .. I hope ur doing it cuz u have energy not cuz you have followers waiting 😬 take care Plz ❤❤🥺

For the anon that asked that yandere reader ask, thx u inspired this ask ur idea is rad :3

(A/N:) ahh thank you for the worry anon, but it’s no problem really!💞 I wouldn’t be making as much content if I wasn’t having any fun, since it’ll probably end up feeling more like chore...and I hate doing chores 😭

That one protective friend that makes sure to check up on you every second (but it’s turned up to the extreme and downright becomes unhealthy in some cases)™

It was ironic to him. Out everyone that he had gotten to know over all these years— hell, perhaps even Arthur; you were the only one he felt like understood him the most. Not many seemed to notice what was going on beneath the surface of his facade, which was why he appreciated you being there. You still liked him despite the many flaws that he had, and tried your best being with him even if it became downright tiring. Alfred would be heavily dependent on you because of this, often going to you to cheer him up— or before he was going to make a rash choice.

So it was only natural that he couldn’t see himself being without you.

You were like a best friend to him; Alfred would even go as far as to say that he felt a familial connection between the two of you. So the deep desire to protect you was normal, wasn’t it? Even when he felt himself worrying for your well-being at even the slightest approach of a stranger, it was just his instinct telling him that there was something wrong. It wasn’t anything unhealthy. Thus, would usually drag you away from anyone that he found to be suspicious; even those he was already familiar with. This would probably result in a lot of arguments, with him trying to say what was ‘best for you’ and with you denying that you needed this much...protection. You swore that it almost felt like he was just isolating you from the others, to have you purely depend on him for whatever reason you couldn’t make up.

Alfred can’t handle being apart from you— nonetheless the idea of you being angry with him, or even hating him . It truly didn’t matter if the reason was rather ridiculous or not, the idea of you hating him just...made his stomach churn uncomfortably. You were his best buddy, and basically one of the only ones he could trust with his inner worries; and the risk of it all being taken away from him because of a silly, childish mistake was all it took to send the poor boy into a state of panic. Please don’t leave him, he’d do anything to keep you there with him. Begging, gifting— you name it.

Arthur didn’t completely seem to realize his feelings at first, confusing it with romantic attraction for a little while— before quickly seeming to realize that it was all purely platonic. He did feel a bit protective of you, maybe even possessive...but it had nothing to do with romance, nor lust. It was just him wanting to have someone beside him, someone that he could call a friend. And someone that would never leave his side.

It won’t be hard to notice how...bad his communication skills were; with him often saying things that he didn’t really mean and slightly setting you off. Arthur is stubborn, so it may take some time (and slight teasing at how much he hesitated) for him to actually apologize. You’ll probably get used to it after a while, since he’s one big tsundere.

Saying this out loud was an absolute no-no for this man— but you being around Arthur was often enough to make him the slightest bit happier. It felt a bit lonely at times, especially with less and less people being around him these past few years. So having you as a friend almost felt like a breath of fresh air.

He’s very critical of those you choose to be around with, often analyzing even the smallest of things so he can determine if they’re actually worth being around you. Which more often than not ends up... not being the case. Arthur will tell you to stay away from them; saying that they were suspicious, and probably had something bad in mind. He’ll resort to isolating you if you were to disobey him, trying to take as much of your attention— and perhaps even kidnapping you if the extreme were to happen. You were his one and only best friend, and he had to make sure you were safe. Always.

Totally the big brother type...well, he usually proclaims himself as being one, so it isn’t that much of a surprise.

Francis will make sure to absolutely pamper you with his attention; hanging out with you, sending letters whenever he was too busy...and simply sending gifts from France. He simply couldn’t let you go off feeling unloved!

He adores talking about you; usually going off on a mindless ramble whenever someone even mentions your name, like a proud father showing off his child. Others will usually compare him to one due to how much he adores talking about you— or simply the way that he treats you. Which would quickly be disregarded with a: “oh, I’m no father! They’re just such a nice little friend to have around, who wouldn’t want to praise such a delicate person?”

On a second note....he actually did feel like a father figure to you. Huh.

Francis will often suggest helping you out with your love life, perhaps even gushing over cute guys together that you found on a random dating app— before quickly realizing that he didn’t really want this. Those silly moments were fun and all, but having you talk with someone that could just be out to use you made him a bit angry...and paranoid, mainly the latter. He will make sure that anyone that even so much dares to get close you first gets his approval first. The feeling of a broken heart was all too familiar to him, and he didn’t want you to experience such a thing.

This may result in him checking up on you...an awful lot, making sure that those around you were only the best of the best and wouldn’t end up being bad influence to you. Yes, he truly was like a father.

A sibling-like person in his life that he didn’t feel insecure against and acknowledged him as his own person? Fuck yes!!

Jokes aside— Matthew really does care deeply for you. Perhaps it was due to the Canadian barely having those that he could...truly call close friends, so having you around almost felt like a blessing. Unlike Francis, he won’t really show you off or talk about you much, especially around his brother. The American had already stolen enough from him, so why would he let something like that happen again?

He’s extremely wary of anyone that even so much tries to make a move on you. It’s just...you were someone that he held extremely dear; and having you potentially getting hurt due to some lowlife that managed to slip into your life would absolutely break his heart. Matthew didn’t want to fail in protecting you, he would never forgive himself if something like that were to happen.

Losing you is something that he wishes to avoid completely. He’ll even go as far as kidnapping you if it came down to it, Matthew just couldn’t see himself living happily without you by his side.

Yao likes cute things...and you’re a cute friend, so it’s a perfect match!

But seriously, he thinks that you’re absolutely adorable. Whether it be because of your personality— or your appearance, it really doesn’t end up mattering in the end. You’re his cute little friend, and that’s all that matters!

He’ll often treat you with more, yet gentler care than most of the others around him. He knew that you were well capable of taking care of yourself; but he just couldn’t help but see you as something fragile, something that he had to protect. So you can already imagine how frustrated he gets when someone treats you with even the slightest bit of disrespect— Yao will often confront them immediately, while you awkwardly have to sit back and watch it all. Almost feeling pity for the person that had to endure your friend’s seemingly never-ending complaints.

Oh, he probably doesn’t quite realize how he comes off as a father at times; seeing how much he’ll scold you for the smallest mistakes (while making sure to correct you of course!) and how he usually made decisions for you, making it hard to refuse his gestures due to his pushy nature. But it’ll probably become a normal thing for the two of you as time progresses, since it’s just...how Yao was, you assumed.

His controlling behavior will also reflect on how he treats your personal life. Yao is very selective of who he lets you be around with, so he’ll often look at your acquaintances and friends with a very critical eye, immediately expressing his distaste in them if they were even to do the smallest thing wrong. “Such a brute isn’t worth being around, (y/n).” Yao will warn you to stay away from them, but won’t bring it up any further if you decide to do what he says. If you don’t then...well, he had special friends to help him out with his dirtier work.

Yao might consider kidnapping you if this behavior keeps on repeating, but won’t feel compelled to actually do it unless something bad were to happen.

Ivan will always try his best to be there for you! While it most likely won’t quite work with him being a rather busy person; a country, nonetheless, but he’ll do his upmost best. It was extremely hard for Ivan to make friends that...weren’t scared of him or secretly disliked him, so having you was such a relief!

Being his only friend, he’ll make sure to be absolutely devoted to you— perhaps in a way that wasn’t too healthy in a friendship, and would often be looked down upon by those looking at your relationship from an outsider’s perspective. But could one truly blame him? Ever since he was born it felt like everyone around him were either toying with him, or were utterly terrified of the boy expect for his two sisters. It was lonely...so it isn’t hard to imagine how overjoyed he was once having you in his life; someone that didn’t display the usual fright whenever he approached them, nor did you look like you were out to hurt him.

Ivan appreciated you a lot.

It wasn’t hard to imagine that you’d most likely become the target of a few other countries, your connection with Ivan wasn’t extremely hidden from the outside world... (from how much he’d senselessly mutter things about you when daydreaming, and the many times he stuck by your side) and so, others would take it to their advantage. Those like Alfred will probably try convince you to leave Ivan’s side, spewing terrifying stories of the man to try and stir up something inside of you so you could leave him. It was mainly for your own safety, yes. But it was also to make the Russian weaker. It was obvious that he was depending on you heavily, and losing you would...god forbid if that would ever happen. Ivan would completely lose himself, perhaps even snapping completely.

So don’t hesitate to tell Ivan if someone was bothering you! Ivan will make sure to get rid of the little parasite from your life in an instant, giving them a short warning whenever the two come across each other...and making sure that he got his point across! It’s better to ignore their sudden disappearance after that day, since someone like them wasn’t worth lingering in your mind.

#help me why do I always write america this dramatically #dilf France? 😲#CANADAS PART IS SO SHORT IM SORRYYYY #yandere #Yandere hetalia #hetalia x reader #Yandere allies #Yandere aph america #Yandere aph france #Yandere aph england #Yandere aph canada #Yandere aph China #yandere aph Russia #platonic yandere #platonic Yandere hetalia

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cazimagines · 3 years

Text

Niki Lauda x Ferrari's first female engineer/mechanic hcs

Request: Could I request Niki Lauda x Ferrari’s first female engineer/mechanic? It was the 70s so even though she really knows her stuff she gets a lot of crap, and even though they vibe on cars she doesn’t take any from Lauda. She really loves what she does, the kind to stay up all night to finish or fix or tinker with something but usually catches a ride with Niki after races cuz she finds the afterparties boring/pretentious. Hope this isn’t too specific! -🦇

- You had fought tooth and claw to get where you were. Ferrari's first female engineer. Just thinking over it made you feel giddy. Ever since you were a child you were obsessed with cars and wanted to build them all. At a young age, you started making go-karts, riding them down your street. You would go searching for scraps at the local garage to improve your own kart and then race it against the neighbour's kids. While you enjoyed the ride, the feel of the wind rushing by your face as you travel speedily, you knew your heart always belonged to the actual making of the kart rather than racing

- You were always found around the local garage, and the men were kind enough to show you around and teach you skills, they found it amusing that such a young girl showed interest in such things. They saw it as a little hobby that you would grow out of one day, but they were wrong. This wasn't just a phase, it wasn't just a hobby. It was something you were passionate about and you were determined to follow it through

- And so you did. It had taken a lot. Men didn't like it that a woman was proving better than them. Showing them up. At all chances, they tried to pull you down, prevent you from getting far but even they couldn't deny the skill you had for engineering. In the end, their need for a good engineer won out against their misogyny and you were allowed to join the team. A lot of the men there still treated you like crap, never acknowledging your good work and treating you as if you were an idiot but you knew just being there you were an inspiration for other women who wanted to go into similar professions and you weren't going to give that up. Plus their remarks were easy to ignore until one certain guy came along

- You, like most of the team, scoffed at the fact that this guy Niki had to buy himself into F1. You had all joked around that he wouldn't last the season. He was just a rich boy using daddy's money to have some fun. And maybe Niki knew what was being said of him because he was quick to disprove these things. You had started to admire him, seeing just how skilled he was at driving. That was until he joined Ferrari.

- To give it to him, he didn't seem to mind that you were a female, at least if he did he never vocalized that. He did however choose to critique you and all of your team on everything they did to the car, constantly telling you what you were doing wrong and how you were costing him the races to Hunt. His arrogance pissed you off to no end

- You'd be working on adjusting the engine so it wouldn't fail from the speed it was having to push the car. He'd become up behind you, crossing his arms and shaking his head in annoyance. 'Your doing it wrong' he'd state. 'I'm the engineer, you're the driver' you'd bite back and his eyes would flicker to yours in anger. 'I know my car better than you. That's why all my improvements make my racing better, whereas yours just makes me as mediocre as Hunt'

- You'd throw the spanner to the ground in anger and stand up to glare at him, only inches apart, 'If you think you're improvements are so good why don't you just fire me and do the engineering yourself' 'Fine, I will if all you are going to give is a bitchy attitude towards me' you scoff at his words and storm off

- You thought that was it. That was the end of your time at Ferrari. But your resignation never came. You'd stay on. And it wasn't as if Niki had forgotten you existed. No, he started appearing even more when you were working on the cars. Criticizing you, undoing your hours of work and just being plain rude. It leads to many arguments with him, usually with you telling him to fuck off and yet he never got you fired and it confused you to no end.

- Because you enjoyed working on the cars so much, and how you wanted to prove to Niki that you were a good engineer, you would stay after hours most nights working on the car. The team didn't care, they usually left you alone, thinking you were stupid for wanting to spend more time there than you had already. On one night there was a party being hosted for Niki winning another race. You were invited but you didn't go, you hated the parties, usually because of the way the men treated you

- So you were working on the car when the lights were turned on in the garage and Niki's booming voice rang out, 'Who's there?' you appeared from under the car looking at him confused,' Aren't you supposed to be at the party?' 'I could say the same thing to you' is all he would reply. You would tell him you were just finishing up on some work and would be leaving in a minute. You expected him to leave you alone but instead, he waited till you were done. 'How are you getting home?' he asks as he starts to walk next to you. 'The bus?' you say, finding this very situation extremely weird as for once he wasn't insulting you. 'The bus is crap, it takes ages to get you anywhere and it's getting dark. I'll take you home' you were shocked, to say the least.

- You tried to argue against it but somehow you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car and you quietly drive down the road, the awkwardness of the situation affecting both of you. 'You hate parties, even if they are your own?' you say finally breaking the silence, 'I enjoy parties, but I find the people insufferable' he simply replies back. 'Yes you seem to find everyone on the team insufferable, I'd assume me the most'

- Keeping his eyes on the road, his grip on the wheel tightens slightly. 'I don't find you insufferable' 'By the way all the work I do never seems to be good enough for you that was enough for me to believe that', he rolls his eyes as you speak. 'Your work is okay, but it can be better if you actually try'. 'I do try!' you exclaim but he just shakes his head, 'Not enough'

- Finally, you arrive at home, you turn to look at him, preparing to bite back the bitter feeling in your mouth and thank him when he says 'You can get out now'. You throw up your middle finger at him as you leave the car making him chuckle

- This incident somehow started a routine for you two. Niki realised it wasn't just that day but most days you choose to stay after hours, and suddenly he started staying after hours as well. At first, he would do the usual and just tell you everything you were doing wrong, then offer you a lift home. But soon he started helping you out, making adjustments together, and though you hated to admit it he was right with his suggestions, they made the car better. But in the same way, he was helping you improve your knowledge, and he started occasionally giving you compliments on your work, though very rare.

- He'd always offer you a lift home and honestly how could you refuse to ride with an F1 driver, even if he drove really slow on actual roads. Your conversations slowly switched from insulting each other to actually talking about common interests and joking around as if you were good friends

- Then you started to feel more, like when he was helping you on the car, and he would move past you, his hand resting on your waist briefly. Or when you would both lean over to grab something and his hand would come in contact with yours, and you would both stare at each other for a moment before he tells you to remove your hand.

- You started to actually celebrate when he won races, and not just because it was your team winning. He'd come out of the car and his eyes would first be on yours, smiling excitedly at another race won and seeing you cheer him on. Then when he was giving his winning speech and his eyes flicker to you, 'And I couldn't have won this race without the work from my team, specifically our main and first female engineer y/n'

- You could never explain the pure joy and happiness you felt at that moment. But it was very similar to the same feeling you got when you two were working on the car the next day and he asks you to look at him. For once in his life, his cocky attitude had gone away and he looked nervous but pulling himself together, he grasped the back of your neck with his hand and pulled you forward, hips lips coming to rest on yours.

#niki lauda #niki lauda fanfiction #niki lauda x reader #niki lauda headcanons #niki lauda hcs #rush #daniel brühl

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

we don't talk together | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, growth! exes that remain exes

words: 2, 842

summary: it's hard to say it's over

What they don't tell you about goodbyes is that it isn't the end.

It's far from the closing of a book. Goodbyes are the itch that urges you to pick up an old book from the shelf just to feel what you first felt when you re-read certain parts of a book; the same remorse you felt when a character you grew attached to didn't get the ending they deserved. Or, maybe it was the villain that was misunderstood—your own heart wishing to reach out to the sad soul that couldn't even be recognised when all they do is speak.

But some books will end up dusty, forgotten, tucked away in the corner of your shelf; or in the most drastic of cases: lost.

"The park looks ... different," Yoongi speaks up for a lack of a better conversation starter.

You hum. What would you say? That it wasn't the same from when we used to spend our Spring's blended into Summer's until it got too hot for us to lay in each other's embrace?

It was still too fresh even though it's been nearly a year.

"There are more dogs," You point out the moment a tan pomeranian runs past the two of you, the owner an old couple laughing away under the cherry blossoms.

He nods, fingers stuffed in his trench coat. You note that it's the same one he wore on your anniversary, plans abandoned when there was a mix-up with the reservations until the two of you stumbled across a hidden gem that soon became your go-to date place.

You will yourself to look away so no more memories can resurface. It seems like every part of your life has somehow seamlessly intertwined itself with traces of Yoongi that it was impossible for you to exist as just yourself.

"How are things at the firm?" He asks after the two of you walked side-by-side in complete silence as more and more chatter fill your ears.

"It's ... going," You chuckle dryly.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you, shooting you a brief glance over until the two of you reach a bench. You dare say it's muscle memory that dragged your heavy feet into the direction of the only bench that you've known in the park. The compressed reminder of the initials of your names that you carved as teenagers likely still staining the years old wood. It was meant to be an emblem for wisdom, the ring of growth that meant to be the endgame for the two of you.

You almost laugh in bitterness and how literal the metaphor was.

"Everything okay?"

Yoongi takes the first step to sit on the bench because he always did. Ever the gentlemen when he opened doors for you, let you into the car first, waited until you stepped ahead of him to trail behind like a shield.

The first date, first kiss, first confession.

The first one to decide that it was over.

"My boss is just being sexist, as usual. I thought I'd get used to it after spending two years there but ... there are some things that you just stay unfamiliar, you know?"

It was very like you to speak in double-entendres without intending to. But it was also like Yoongi to pick up on it, especially after years of learning all the best and worst parts of you; he was and probably will be one of the few people in your lives that will always foresee your next move.

The two of you sit a fair distance apart on the bench even if it was a battle for space anyway. You didn't have the liberty to lean into his embrace anymore and he wasn't in the position to say that it was okay for you to breathe, to relax.

"You shouldn't get used to those remarks. There are times where you learn to grow used to constructive criticism but if what he's saying makes you question your worth because of very arbitrary reasons like your gender then that isn't criticism, nor is it constructive. It's bigoted and chauvinistic."

You look down to your thumbs as you fiddle with it, his words comforting you. It was woeful that you still chased validation from him even after learning to be that person to yourself.

"Yeah, I guess."

Then how did you get used to things?

If time didn't make things familiar then what did? Was it not the five years with Yoongi that led you to see him build an empire for himself all the while destroying the relationship that you had? Or was it because he was the person that you thought of doing the most minuscule things?

"By the way," He clears his throat, eyes still set forward, "Namjoon says hi."

You raise an eyebrow, surprised to hear the name of a mutual friend—or more appropriately, friend by association and acquaintance when that link was broken.

"He knows that you're with me?"

Yoongi nods his head.

"I needed to let someone at the studio know and ... well, he's the only one that knew of our situation."

You chuckle bitterly.

Of course. The suggestion of his work only made your heart drop because as much as you wanted to be supportive of him, even after the break-up, the name of his studio or songs only reminded you of the battle that you helplessly lost.

"You can tell him that I'm still a text or phone call away. No need to play messenger," You return.

The atmosphere is more reflective than awkward. You know that the two of you had your pieces to say, your own narrative to tell but neither brave enough to break the calm that you were settled in. It was a nice difference from the way that things ended, and you supposed that you were similar enough to believe in a mirage than the inevitable truth.

But you didn't call him out after six months to sit in silence to walk away with your heart feeling heavier, nor did you invite him out just to remember what it feels like to have him next to you—even in complete silence.

"Would you have really quit?"

This time, you gather all the bravery that you've built over the past few months to ask the question that has been mulling in your mind since the night you decided that it was officially over.

It was a painful break-up. Even if you expected it when Yoongi came home earlier one night with bags under his eyes and his keys that he usually left at the studio because he knew you'd always be home to open the door for him.

"I'm sorry?" He seems taken aback.

You don't blame him. You've always been more passive in dealing with confrontation due to your conflict-averse nature—but that didn't mean you didn't get angry or annoyed—or hurt. But if you learned anything, it was to stop asking yourself questions that you'll never have the answer to.

"Would you really have left the company to save our relationship?"

You chose your words carefully. Instead of saying to be with you, knowing that he lost the love, he had for you somewhere along the way—you point out the one hole that he held on to for the sake of stability. The one thing that was constant in his life with how unpredictable the music industry was.

"Yes."

Somehow, the answer doesn't make you feel better because even with time apart you knew he was lying to save your face.

"You don't owe me anything to lie to my face, Yoongi." You frown.

Yoongi sighs, rubbing his hands across his face as he leaves your statement hanging in the air to mull over his answer.

You prefer the silence that way. It showed that he was at least listening, or cared enough to decide his next set of words. Nothing like how much it pained you to acknowledge the responses you got from him when you were crying were just out of obligation than sincerity.

"No, I wouldn't have."

You nod your head, expectant of the answer but you needed to hear him say it himself rather than drowning yourself in ruminating thoughts of how there was still a semblance of hope that he would've given it up for you, for your relationship—or the life that you were meant to build.

"I wouldn't have asked you to, anyway." You confess.

Yoongi turns his head to look at you and for the first time since you've met at the park, he notices the absence of a necklace around your neck. The necklace that you never took off. He wants to comment on it, ask where it went or if you've pawned it off out of pettiness but he held no remorse towards you. You were tolerant with the break-up even as you sucked in your tears when he knew that it killed you on the inside. Yoongi didn't have the heart in him to ask you.

"Oh."

"You were the one that said you'd quit so we could stay together," You say softly.

Yoongi doesn't respond as he looks back to the night where the two of you sat down to talk about the standing of your relationship. It was a rollercoaster of emotions that started off with an amicable discussion that eventually led to the two of you yelling until you surrendered to your tears and just left the battle completely.

He said a lot of things that night. From things that he's been bottling up for months, to things that he's always wanted to tell you and things that he didn't remotely mean, and things that he's regretted the moment it left his lips.

"I guess I did."

You sigh, leaning back into the bench as you observe a couple walking in front of you, passing your bench as they share an ice cream on a cone; bickering on who'd get the first lick. To anyone, you and Yoongi would've looked just like a couple that has reached a comfortable point in your relationship where intimacy was just sitting next to one another.

But you admit, there was something oddly intimate and heart-breaking about sitting next to someone you've loved with your whole heart and feel nothing but ... weightlessness. Like the burden of your concerns was lifted ever so slightly just being here.

"I wouldn't have made you choose between your relationship or your dream, Yoongi. I would never have done that to you."

Yoongi knew you would never have made him do something as abhorrent as that. You were far too understanding. But you had wanted from him too, that he wasn't willing to provide just yet. He didn't know if it was because of the expiration date to your relationship or because of the stress he was under at work—but he convinced himself that it was you that was asking for too much instead of him compromising too little.

"I ... I know," He whispers, "I'm sorry."

You purse your lips. You try not to let your emotions appear on your sleeve. You were tired of allowing your face to speak before you did. You needed to use the voice you had.

"I loved you so much, Yoongi," You murmur, "I loved you so much that I would have taken anything I could've gotten with you just so I could be with you."

Yoongi stays silent at this.

"I didn't mind if you spent more time at work than at our home. I just wanted to know if I was ever in the picture when you were talking about the future. I know how much you love music and I supported you through every audition and failure ... and to know that I was just—" You swallow, the words still painful to say. But you needed to make your peace with it, "—that I was just someone that would wait for you instead of your partner. That's when I knew that you didn't love me the way I loved you."

Yoongi chokes to speak up but you shake your head.

"No, Yoongi. You loved me, you did. But somewhere along the way you stopped and you just pretended that we were okay even when I was trying my best to fix the seams. I wasn't your girlfriend anymore, I was just someone familiar to you and I didn't deserve to feel that way." You tell him sternly.

Yoongi surrenders to his silence as you take a deep breath to continue.

"Maybe I loved you too much in a way that you couldn't understand."

"_______, don't say that—" His eyes widen when he tries to reach a hand to yours to comfort you, but your body language remains stoic as you keep your hands in your lap.

"—and that's okay Yoongi. I loved you but not in the way you needed. I'm not here to make you feel bad about what I chose to do on my own because it wasn't my fault that I couldn't be what you need." You say sadly, but a small smile on your face as you finally say the words that have been eating at you for months.

"... okay," Yoongi accepts.

"We all have different ways to love and be loved. I loved you and that was enough for you at one point but love isn't all a relationship needs. You loved me too, in your own way and I accepted that but just because it was enough for me doesn't mean it was enough for us." You glance over at him to see him staring at you intently.

"I'm sorry that things turned out this way," Yoongi says softly, eyes gentle.

You wave him off.

"I don't think I'll ever love someone as much as I loved you, though," He confesses, eyes returning to the scene in front of him filled with different colours of life that seemed to look vibrant under the Spring sunset.

You shake your head and chuckle softly.

"You say that now but you'll meet someone one day and you'll remember all the reasons why you love in the first place. And it'll be enough for you, and them."

He shrugs, a small smile itching on his face.

"I really did love you," He says, "But I'm sorry for not being honest with you. I owe you that much of an apology."

"We're not here to forgive or forget, Yoongi," You look at him kindly, "We're here to move on."

He purses his lips and hums, nodding his head.

"I hope you get that promotion at work you were talking about months ago, ______." Yoongi offers, a gentle grin marring his face.

"I did," You shrug.

It feels liberating to have achieved something and only feeling content by acknowledging it yourself. Months ago, you would've hurt at the fact that Yoongi didn't know. But the change you welcomed after the end only showed you that there was a new path for you to walk on.

His eyes widen, but eventually, he chuckles and shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like knew it.

You push yourself off the bench, dusting your hands on your pants as you offer him one last smile before you say goodbye for the second time.

"I hope you find someone who you'll love more than you ever did with me." You tease.

He rolls his eyes.

"Impossible," The grin on his face is easy, and your heart still clenches at the nonchalance, but you don't expect the feeling to go away so easily—nor do you mind. It just shows that you needed to wait and that you were willing to do it.

"Of course you will. You're a musician, Yoongi. You need a muse," You smirk at him as you turn around, a small wave on your hand to say goodbye.

As you walk away and his body gets smaller and smaller from your vision, you turn around to say:

"We don't talk together is a beautiful song."

Yoongi's smile is genuine, and so is his goodbye. A gentle acknowledgment of his hand as he stands up himself, walking to the other direction of where you were headed.

You still had a love for Yoongi, and you suppose you always will. Just like how you would feel pleasant when rediscovering a childhood hobby that triggers a fond memory, or how you love different things in your life in different ways. Whether or not you love someone more than you've ever loved Yoongi isn't your concern, because when love comes in one form, it goes in another.

When you still take the same route you'd usually take with Yoongi after your walks back home, you pass the cafe you used to frequent to see that it's replaced with a new bar. You smile fondly to yourself, shaking your head.

You loved that place.

But eventually, you'll find another cafe with a beautiful interior and a latte to match, and you'll love it too.

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