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jemilyswhor3 · 1 year

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Shared Bedroom

A/N: This has been in my drafts for too long

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Warning: smut, oral (r receiving), fingering, nipple playing, mommy kink, dom!wanda, sub!reader, use of pet names, light praise kink, reader in college, R (20-22), Wanda (25-27), reader is daughter of tony stark

Summary: You've just finished your training. You went to your room to study, only to be left doing something else, or rather, someone else doing you.

Word Count: 2.1K

Your training with Nat had just finished and it was already 8:27 PM. You have an early class tomorrow, so you head towards your shared bedroom with Wanda. You opened the door, and to your shock, she was nowhere to be found. She was always the early bird- sleeping in at 8:00 PM and waking up at 5:00 AM kinda gal, so it had you wondering where she could be at this state of time. You shrugged it off, took some shorts and a camisole out of your closet for later to change in, and headed to the bathroom. You took a nice warm shower and did your night routine. After your self-care, you opened the door, ready to head to your study table to do what's left of your thesis.

''Wanda!'' You exclaimed, surprisingly seeing the woman in her robe, sitting in bed while on her phone. ''Oh, hey, Y/N'' She looked up and back down at her phone again. ''Where were you?'' You asked while taking a seat at your table. ''I was helping Clint with carrying some stuff, why?'' She puts her phone down and focuses her attention on you. ''Nothing'' You pout, ''It's just that you usually sleep in early''. ''Yeah, I- I kinda couldn't sleep without your company'' She awkwardly stated. ''Oh,'' Your cheeks flushed. You draw your attention to your table while taking out your laptop from your bag. She stands up and walked toward you. ''What's that?'' She pointed out to your laptop screen.''My thesis. I'm practically done, just have to proofread it'' You replied, pointing at the screen. ''Long day with Nat?'' She circles your back. ''Yeah. Started training at 4:30 today'' You focus your attention on the screen, avoiding staring at her figure in the mirror's reflection. ''I remember my training days with her. Your father said it's 'mandatory' '' She mocked Tony. ''You must feel very tired'' She slowly puts both her hands on your shoulders and slowly started massaging them. ''Don't bother'' You place your left hand on top of her right, that's on your shoulder, removing it from you. ''I insist'' She flutters her eyes while she carefully places your hand back on your keyboard and hers on your shoulders. "Whatever you say" You start to open the document on your screen. She continues to gently massage your shoulders while you type in corrections. You feel her hand slowly nudging the sleeve off your right shoulder. She gently places your hair on your left side, which gave shivers down your spine. She starts to lean down to your neck and you feel her cold breath hit your skin. Barely maintaining focus on your screen, trying to process what's happening in the present, your eyes fluttering, and your body slightly trembling. She starts to kiss your neck, leaving soft gentle kisses all over it. You both still don't utter a word to each other. You gave in and fully closed your eyes for a couple of seconds, trying your best for her to not notice. She starts getting aggressive and starts sucking your neck, possibly leaving hickeys. You let out a soft low moan, which she liked, given the smile you felt on your neck.

''You like that, baby? Or am I being too aggressive?'' She converses. ''No, no. You're doing perfectly fine'' You whispered to her, unable to properly let out words, being held back by her kisses. She snuck her hand under your shirt, unclipping your bra. Once she successfully did, she slowly removed your bra straps, letting her slender fingers roam around your arms, making you feel goosebumps all over your body. She fully removed your bra and tossed it someplace else. Your hands and posture are still in front of your desk, mouth wide open, whilst your eyes are closed.

She looks at your reflection in the mirror, laughing at the sight of you being submissive. Soft moans escaped from your mouth, giving her a signal that you want more. She continues to assault your neck with kisses, as she slips her right hand under your shirt since her left is the one that's holding your hair back. She cups one of your tits and started to slowly massage them, making them hard. You create friction between your legs, as you feel that you're getting wetter by the second. She takes her hand off your chest as she slowly tries to slip into your pants. As she was getting closer, you stop her hand and say, "No, not yet" While you gasp for air. Her eyes widen and stopped kissing your neck as she removed her hands from you and walked away.

You opened your eyes and looked at her. "Wh- what are you doing?" You rattled. "You said 'No'" She raised her brow. "I said not yet. I never told you to stop" You furrowed your eyebrows. She stands up and walked toward you. "So, do you want more?" She smirked. You desperately nodded as you gulped. "Stand up" She demanded. You delightfully obliged her demand and looked at her with desperation. She closes your laptop, moved it aside, grabbed you by the waist, lifted you to the table, and aggressively pressed your lips together. She pushed you against the wall, almost breaking the mirror. "Sorry" She apologized, breaking the kiss. "No need to say sorry, Mommy" You smirk at her and pushed your lips against hers. You feel her smirk while you make out. "Mommy. I like it" "I knew you would" Your hands start to travel all over her body, removing her robe, only to reveal her in a short black silk dress. "Like what you see?" "Did you lock the doors?" You asked. "I did. Why?" She pulled your lips together before you could respond. You backed away from the kiss, making her annoyed, only to be delighted at what you have to say, "Take me to bed" You gasp for air. She looked at you from head to toe and let out a wide smile. She lifts you up while still maintaining the kiss you both are sharing.

She slams you in the middle of the bed still maintaining the kiss while your legs was wrapped around her. You relax your legs while she stabilizes herself on top of you. She starts to move her hand down your shorts, gripping your thigh. She places her hand in the middle of your legs and teased your clothed cunt, moving her index finger up and down. ''Oh, please just fuck me already'' You let out while humping on her finger. ''Not just yet'' She whispers to your ear. She moves down to your neck, placing kisses and sucking it roughly. You gasp for air and moan in awe at her movements all over your body. ''Is now the time?'' You asked in desperation. ''No, not yet'' She said in between kisses, mocking you.

''Please, Mommy'' You begged. ''You want me that bad inside of you? You think calling me Mommy will get you that?'' She looked up at you and smirked. "Yes, please" You nod in anticipation. ''Why the rush, baby?'' She continues her movements on your neck. ''I've been waiting for this for so long'' You let out. She replied in a sinister tone, ''Really?'' She replaces her index with her thumb rubbing against your clit. ''Mhm,'' You eagerly nod. ''Are you sure? What about your fa-'' You place your hand over her mouth stopping her from continuing her sentence. "Don't worry about him. He'll never know" Wanda can see the desperation in your eyes. She smirks at you and gently makes her way down to your chest, stomach, your lower belly while placing soft kisses all around your body.

She looked up at you for confirmation if you wanna go through this before going down. You give her the fastest nod you could, and to that, she made her way down. While under the covers, she slowly removes your shorts, leaving her a sight of your wet panties. "So wet, just for me" You hear her whisper. You felt the vibration from her voice teasing you. "Please. Just please fuck me already" You pant. "What's my name" She reveals her head from under the covers. "What?" You asked, not quite comprehending the words she said earlier. "You didn't say my name" She trails her fingers along your stomach, making little swirls here and there. "Mommy. Please fuck me, Mommy" You said while you bite your lip at the last word."That's what I want" She slides her finger inside your underwear, plunging in her index finger. You gasp at her sudden movement, while you held back your moans as she thrust her finger in and out. "Was that so hard to say?" She mockingly said. "Please, one more" You begged while gripping on the sheets and biting your lower lip. "See, honey. You keep forgetting my name" She pulls her finger out.

You, desperate for her touch, released your grip from the sheets and cupped her face. "Pl- Please, Mommy. I want you inside of me- all of you" You begged with puppy dog eyes. She smirks at your request and slowly slid her fingers down again. This time, she added two fingers making your eyes roll and back arch. "Mhm, you like that, huh? Does my baby like Mommy's fingers inside of her?" She softly asked. You give her an eager nod whilst your eyes are closed, unable to utter words. "Mhm," She hums as she uses her thumb to make circles on your clit.

All of it was so much- too much. You're so close to climaxing, you're already at the edge. "Mommy," You whimper. "What is it, baby?" She responded, concerned. "I- I'm gonna cum" You replied while you thrust your body into her fingers. "Oh, no you aren't. You can cum when I tell you so" She demanded. Your eyes closed, back-arching, toe-curling, hands gripping the sheets, and lip biting, unable to keep it in you. "Please- Please let me cum- Mommy" You added, almost forgetting to say her name. "Almost, sweetheart" She teased while she slowly goes down on you.

She took her fingers off and replaced them with her tongue, flicking it all across from your entrance to your clit. She slowly started the pace, and as time went by, she started going faster. You moan your heart out while your back arched. "Come on, baby. Cum on Mommy's tongue so she can taste your sweet juices" She eagerly demanded, somehow gasping for air. You gave in and came on her tongue as she tries to catch it all by lapping her tongue all over you. "Mhm," She moans. "You taste so fucking good, malyshka" Your cheeks turned bright red, giving up from trying to hide it, just enjoying the moment you two are sharing.

She moves up beside you and lays down. "Wow. That was-" "Amazing. You were so good for Mommy" She compliments you whilst she turns to look at you. "I was gonna say magical, but amazing is also what it is" You smile at her. You grab her by the chin and pushed your lips together, sharing a passionate kiss. "I don't wanna lose you," You said, breaking the kiss. She sits up properly and cups your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby. I'll always be right here. I'm never leaving your side" She rubs your cheeks. You smile at her as you take her hand off and start to kiss her knuckles, up to her arms, and eventually to her neck.

"Oh, you want to go for round two?" She chuckles as she makes her way under you again. You stop her hands before she could go down, and look her in the eyes. "No. You've already done so much for me. It's time I return the favor" You smirk at her. You went down under the covers and started to plant kisses along your way down.

And for the rest of the night, you two made passionate love to each other until sunrise. You regret nothing of it all. Although, you remembered your thesis that you need to pass today. You mentioned it to Wanda, and just like that, she used her magic to fix your thesis and messed with the weather so you don't have to go to class later in the morning. "You should've told me you could do that before" You laughed, amazed at what she had just done. "If I did, then maybe we wouldn't be kissing and cuddling right now" She pulls you in for a soft peck on the lips that turned into a full-on make-out. After your make-out session with Wanda, you both snuggled up and went to sleep like babies.

________________________________ A/N: Omg! This is my first time writing smut and I think that I didn't do that bad for the first time. I was not at all planning on writing a full smut story, but kinda like an angsty tease and leave the rest to your imagination, cause I feel uncomfortable when it comes to writing smut with fictional characters- or just in general, but I guess I got carried away lmao.

I also wanted to write something like this to widen my writing skills and, also cause I want to try to write in all genres to see which one I'm best at.

Please don't be harsh💀 This might feel rushed, cause I kinda did, cause I felt uncomfy.

I also uploaded this on ao3, @wandaswitch

#wanda maximilf #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x yn #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff smut #the scarlet witch #Scarlet Witch #scarlet witch smut #wlw #wlw smut #lesbian smut #smut #civil war #mommy wanda #wandavision

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haerin1 · 7 months

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could i ask for a wanderer x reader with a reader that has social anxiety and stutters a lot :3

꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ OVERCOMING.

note: omh ty for this req; as sum1 who used to have rlly severe social anxiety this hit close to home ajaja anw i hope u like it :3 (any1 else feel free to req!)

[wanderer!scara x gn!reader] panic attack, wanderer is a lil' mean at first, fluff, opposites attract trope !!

It's one word with four letters. Surely, anybody could say it, because it's not that hard to ask for help, right? No matter if it showed you were inferior, unable to fulfill a task beyond your understanding; If someone showed you the ropes, you would feed from their knowledge. It's not the same for everybody, sad to say.

Sitting at a table in the greatly colossal library of Teyvat, the House of Daena, you're simply stuck. You try to focus on the assignment at hand, but unfortunately for you, your mind continues to drift off to the countless "what-if"s... what if you never told the little white haired archon about your problems?

Nahida suggested that your writing of a thesis about the way you feel and how your social anxiety affects your everyday life would help you better comprehend it, and overcome it, even by a little.

You couldn't help but resent the girl who has the sweetest of intentions a bit, because at the moment, you feel as though this is making it worse for you.

Your expression appears frantic as you roll your quill in between your index finger and your thumb, your gaze fixated on the paper behold you. You sigh softly and look up from the paper to take a glimpse at the pretty cerulean-haired boy for what seemed like the nth time.

His hair looks soft and well groomed, his indigo eyes exceedingly striking with his bold red eyeliner. His skin is as perfect as porcelain, you could say. Fair, and not a scratch in sight within his flawless flesh.

He's the only person in the library at the moment, and Nahida has mentioned him to you before. Any friend of Nahida's would be as kind as her... right?

Your teeth dig into the soft skin of your bottom lip as you subtly steal another glance at him. At the moment, Wanderer is occupying himself with finding a book that will help him expand more on his own thesis.

Unbeknownst to you, he was also looking at you every chance he got.

You're about to go up to him to ask your question, the question that has just been suffocating, anticipating to be released from your throat, when suddenly, something drags you down yet again. Your palms grow clammy and your heart beats faster, just by thinking of speaking to him.

It didn't even matter if it was him or not; Speaking to anyone you weren't closely associated with was too difficult for you, overall.

Your breathing pace gets a little uneven and wobbly as you try to breathe steadily through your nose, but even those breaths come out trembling in some form. The sick feeling of anxiety and panic altogether starts to creep up on you. It started to feel as though your intestines were scrunching up inside of you and you needed air, badly.

What if he degraded you for not knowing such a simple thing? Why must you burden a stranger with your needs? Infinite thoughts overwhelm you as your fingers tremble slightly from where they're now resting on your lap.

This really sucks.

You eventually decide on packing it up for today. You could withstand Nahida's disappointment anytime; It was nothing compared to asking a stranger a simple question.

As you stand up from your chair, quietly gathering your paper and pen, you slightly jump at the gentle tap on your shoulder.

"Do you have hearing problems or something? I've been calling you for the past three minutes," Wanderer says, his tone clearly indicating his annoyance. His brows are furrowed, his lips in a small frown as he glares at you. You're quick, a little too quick, to look down at the floor.

No matter how much you tried, eye contact was always out of the question for you. It made you feel uneasy.

"S-Sorry," you softly murmur, feeling yourself go warm and your trembling fingers tightly hold onto your quill and paper for some sort of stability. You must have been so absorbed in your panic attack, that you couldn't even hear him.

Wanderer isn't stupid. His cold gaze narrows as he examines you. Your head starts enduring extreme dizziness when you realize what he's doing. 'Oh, Archons, is he judging me?' Your thoughts are so loud, you draw a short intake of breath, thinking he heard it when you didn't even say anything.

After a moment of excruciating silence, he sighs and asks, "Can you look at me?" His tone shifts from irritated to somewhat more gentle now, however, he still sounded irritated.

You do as he says, your nervous eyes peering at him, but constantly glancing to other directions. Wanderer takes in your appearance now, still closely inspecting you. He takes note of everything, from the way you bite down on your lip, to the way you pick at your nail.

"... Do you know where I may find more books on the history of Sumeru?" he questions, after sometime. "Huh? Oh, yeah..." Your voice is soft-spoken and gentle as you hesitantly start to lead him to a section in the library. He walks by you, visibly side eyeing you as you walk with your gaze focused on the floor again.

'This would have never happened if I had just left earlier...'

"Um... here it is," Your words come out a bit unsteady as you come to a stop. With one hand holding your quill and paper, your other hand reaches for a book on the shelf. Wanderer doesn't fail to notice your wavering fingers.

You hand it to him as you barely even glance at him; Your gaze still flickers to him, to the side, and then back to him. Wanderer accepts the book from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment. His fingers are cold, similar to a glass window on a crisp winter morning.

"Thank you, even if you're quite the jittery one," he slyly comments, a playful smirk on his lips. "I'm Wanderer, what about you, hm?" Wanderer's voice is baritone and has a light air of smugness to it. His words roll off of his tongue like smooth melted dark chocolate.

You quietly reply, "[Name]..." Your eyes still don't meet his as you begin to faintly fidget with the hem of your Akademiya uniform's sleeve.

Wanderer tilts his head, noticing the quill and paper in your other hand. "Ah? Are you working on a thesis as well," he queries, his charming indigo eyes carefully surveying your reaction and awaiting your reply. You slowly nod, somewhat less queasy now.

"What about, if you don't mind my asking?" Wanderer certainly isn't one to easily have a conversation without completely dragging the other person down, but with you, it felt natural. It felt good.

You hesitate for a moment before responding softly, "Nahida advised me to write a thesis about how social anxiety affects... peoples everyday life." You know it's bad to lie, but you could never admit to a stranger about something such as this. You see it as your flaw, something that puts a heavy weight on you that has to be fixed.

Lessening that weight, even if it were by a little, would go a long way... and little did you know, it would start with him.

Fortunately for you, Wanderer doesn't manage to see right through your lies even though he's usually rather well at reading people. He simply says, "Okay. Well," Wanderer suddenly takes your paper and it catches you off guard.

"This is a blank page. Are you having writer's block, perhaps? Or is writing not your forté?" he teasingly adds, smirking at you. Blood rushes to your cheeks as you blush deeply, murmuring something quiet in embarrassment from his playful remarks.

Wanderer waves the paper around, humming, "Hm? What was that?" He leans closer to you, as if trying to hear you better. You lean back a bit, the close proximity overwhelming you.

"It's not that... I just need more ink... for my quill..."

A moment of awkward silence passes.

"... eh? That's it?" Wanderer appears disappointed as he sighs, "You could have asked me. Goodness, I was standing there the whole time and you didn't say a word." He grabs onto your hand and starts leading you somewhere among the library, seemingly insistent on helping you.

Wanderer's expression is bored as he continues dragging you around before finally finding an inkwell on a table. He's curiously looking at you as he says, "Is that really all? Such a simple demand, yet you didn't have the guts to ask-" Wanderer instantly shuts his mouth when he notices your gloomy expression.

Everything seemed to be falling into place now as Wanderer thought of the way you spoke and acted in a more complex way. More importantly, he realized that the thesis you're writing was never about other people's social anxiety.

It's like it finally clicked in his mind as he perks up before looking away, almost as a sheepish sort of gesture, as he mumbles, "Never mind that... Anyways, [Name]," His attempt at an apology was weak, but still sweet, given his intentions.

He takes your quill and dips the tip of it into the inkwell as he speaks, "Would you like to work on our theses together? You may not have writer's block, but right now, I do. So, what do you think?" His tone comes off as quite demanding, but luckily, you see his good intent.

You smile a bit. "Sure... that would be nice," you say in your same soft voice. Your words didn't tremble as much as they did before, and you don't notice it, but Wanderer smiles slightly at that.

He's quick to frown again, making sure he doesn't give you enoguh time to realize his smile before returning to his unamused face as he huffs, "Just don't get in my way." Wanderer sits down at the table and drags the chair next to him, closer.

"How are you going to help me if you're sitting that far away? Seriously, the person who designed this layout is stupid," he grumbles, rolling his eyes as he puts his thesis on the table.

The funny thing is, the chairs weren't even that far away from each other.

You sit on the chair by him and his leg is practically touching yours because of how close he made the distance. You gulp and Wanderer's body leans towards you as he nonchalantly says, "You have pretty eyes and a nice voice, by the way." Without waiting for your reply, he immediately adds, "Now, help me think of a starter sentence for this..."

The two of you end up working quite well together. While Wanderer easily gets irritated, you have more patience. He's rowdy and unfiltered, having no shame in saying his honest opinion at any given moment. On the other hand, you're more sweet about it, and provide advice to help move further.

It's like you two are puzzle pieces that perfectly fit with each other. Or rather, this moment with him is the puzzle piece, indicating the start of a bigger picture. A future with him, perhaps?

🐾🍫🍮 : © haerin1 (do not translate, steal or take too much inspo from my works)

#✮+ cyvie's web library !#gender neutral reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche fanfics #scaramouche fanfiction #scaramouche fluff #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #scaramouche imagines #kunikuzushi #wanderer

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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Common Knowledge 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You untangle the strap of your knapsack from the folding desk. Somehow you always manage to caught up on something. Always a bit too tall, always a bit too much. You stand and leave your books on the empty seat next to you to unhook your bag.

You stand straight, the shuffle of students dispelling down the center aisle and out the doors. You reach for your books as a shadow approaches you. You look up at Professor Halfdansson as he approaches casually, a thumb in his front pocket.

Before you can grab the Norse Encyclopedia, he has it in his free hand. You stand straight, clasping onto the open mouth of your knapsack. You give him a tight-lipped smile, but it probably looks more like a sneer. You've been told your resting bitch face can be intimidating.

"Ah, you found it," he smiles, cradling it like a precious child against one arm and fluttering the pages. "I thought to offer you my own copy should you not."

"It's fine. No big task," you assure him.

"Humble," he praises, "so have you decided on your thesis?"

You push one shoulder up, "still thinking."

He grins and his blue eyes flick up from the book. He has a way of looking at you that makes you want to disappear. As if he's seeing right through you.

"Sorry, Professor, I have a class coming up--"

"You must be in Turner's class."

You hold out your hand expectantly. He glances at it and slowly hands over the book. You slip it through the zipper of your bag.

"How'd you know?"

"Birds of a feather," he says.

You nod and shoulder your bag. You have nothing to say to that. He watches you and steps back, waving you past him. You sidle around him in the tight aisle.

"Next week," he calls after you, "I think you'll very much enjoy the readings."

"Thank you, professor," you say as you turn down the steps, "I'll be sure to catch up."

You leave without looking back. He is an odd duck but many of your professors have their eccentricities. Professor Turner often can't figure out the projector. Funny how those regarded as so smart often have such glaring blindspots.

📖

You sit down among the stacks, ready to tuck into a full day of studying. It isn't ideal and frankly fills you with anxiety. College wasn't made for you, nor were you it. Frankly, your interest in history is better sated in books off the shelf than the ramblings of scholars with an attachment to their overinflated titles.

History is vast, you can never know it all, and there are parts which hold little interest to you. Nordic myths left you indifferent. Never a subject you would choose for yourself but as you delve into it, not entirely dull.

You tap your pen as you wait for your laptop to update. Always at the best times. You flip open your notebook and flick through your notes. Right, focus, you just need a straightforward statement. It's not very difficult.

"Ah, a young aspirant on her journey to knowledge," the booming voice is much too loud in the hush of the library.

You look up as Professor Haraldsson approaches, he worn leather bag under his arm and a travel mug in the shape of a stein in his other hand, "very busy in here, do you mind if I invade your space?"

You give him a look between blank and surprised. You probably look dumb. You shrug and gesture at an empty chair. You suspect it was rhetorical.

He drops his bag unceremoniously and puts his cup down with a clank. You flinch and look back to your laptop, urging it to update faster.

"And so the Norns bring us together once more. I am starting to feel Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld's hands upon us."

You narrow your eyes and give him a look. You know the Norns but not by name. You try to smile and force out a scratchy chuckle.

"I guess…"

"May I?" He points to the large encyclopedia.

"Go ahead," you sigh as the login screen appears and you type.

He opens the cover and searches the table of contents. He finds his place among the many pages and leans in to read. You focus on the screen and your own work. Only a thesis statement, easy, right?

"I do find the illustrations rather immaculate," he comments as he runs his hand over a picture, a man with a sword before a woman of great stature. "Have you found it very useful?"

"Mmhmm," you hum and pull your notebook closer.

He slides the open book towards you and you place your notebook atop it, "and have we chosen a subject?"

You shake your head and look down. The small caption of the photo peeks out around the corner of the notebook. The professor slurps noisily from his cup.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out…"

Your voice trails off as you read the description; 'Frey declaring to the giantess, Gerd, that he will curse her to an eternity in Hel should she reject him.' You frown, many of these stories are dreadfully depressing. The womanly counterparts rarely meet a kind end.

"Well, should you have any questions," he offers as he pulls open the flap of his bag, "I do consider myself a bit of an expert."

"Thanks," you cup your chin as you lean forward, staring at your desktop.

You can feel him watching but refuse to acknowledge it, wondering if maybe you have something on your face. As with most people, you tune him out, pretending you are alone. You're always most comfortable that way.

#harald finehair #harald halfdansson #dark!herald #dark harald #harald finehair x reader #geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt x reader #au #drabble #series #common knowledge #the witcher #vikings

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dying-hemlock · 7 months

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I gained too much power by being admitted to a Ph.D. program. So now that I finished my Master's Thesis (which I defended on Monday), which I will share here once I get it fully submitted to the grad school, I need to do comprehensive exams next year (following one more year of coursework).

For those who do not know, PhD comprehensive exams (also called oral exams or qualifying exams) are basically a series of 200-350 texts in 3-4 fields (varies widely between programs), which students must spend a year reading and then get tested on to stay in the program and advance to the dissertation stage.

I am developing two lists on American Gothic fiction and New Media as they are relevant to my current planned dissertation topic. Well, those lists have some interesting additions. I channeled my Dark Academia era and added Donna Tartt's A Secret History and some of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight books to the Gothic list. I also added Homestuck and The Magnus Archives to my New Media list (gonna add more video games and horror podcasts, too). I also have a whole list on Folklore, which is gonna focus on ghosts, magic, and monsters as well as folklore collection methods and ethics. So needless to say, I am gonna have a lot of fun. My fourth list is TBD, but I will make it just as unhinged as the others.

TL;DR, letting me into academia means I am gonna study absolutely insane things given the chance.

#chaotic academia #dark academia #stupid academia #american gothic #regional gothic #gothic americana #gothic horror #southern gothic #rural gothic #appalachian gothic #horror #gothic writing #gothic academia

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jessamine-rose · 1 year

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༻ The Golden Ratio ༺

Another deleted scene from Chemistry which I just had to recycle. May you all enjoy this fluffy, non-yandere take on Dottore and the science of love (≡^∇^≡)

♡ 0.9k words under the cut ♡

“Zandik, look over here! Aren’t these specimens remarkable?”

“Yes, they are,” he replies dismissively.

You frown, turning away the patch of Rukkhashava Mushrooms. Your classmate is still tinkering with the Ruin Guard, completely absorbed in his research.

“Liar. You didn’t even look at it.”

He doesn’t even try to deny it. “Can’t you see that I’m busy? If you allow me to finish my research, I can promise my full attention later.”

“But that’s what you said with the last sample,” you point out. “Is it too much to stop and admire the scenery for a few minutes? You are utterly rigid.”

Though you wouldn’t have fallen for him otherwise.

Zandik gives you an unamused look. “And you are too carefree, though I may recognize such childlike curiosity as befitting of your Darshan.”

You give him a bright smile. “Thank you for the acknowledgement!”

Was that a compliment or an insult? Either way, Zandik has been observing you!

As of now, your research expeditions have yielded little progress in your relationship. Your crush remains distant, focused on his work, at odds with your research approach. Still, you are thankful for the opportunity to witness him in action. To spend time with him.

Your own research is sufficient. You sit on the grass and watch Zandik, committing his visage to memory. After a few minutes, he breaks the silence.

“I am intrigued,” he says, “by your attitude to my research. The Sages always scold me whenever I express my fascination in these ancient machines.”

His research notes are neatly arranged beside his tools. The pages are marked with meticulous reports and detailed drawings. His enthusiasm practically bleeds into the paper.

You approach him, uncaring of your close proximity to the Ruin Guard.

“Well, I must disagree with them. No matter how dangerous those machines can be, they are still something to study. One might claim they are no different from my research specimens.”

“Ah, yes. Your little plants and animals,” he replies, glancing at your research notes. “And why do you research those subjects, may I ask?”

“Should there be an important reason?” you ask, adjusting your Amurta scarf. “It’s because they’re beautiful. Simple as that.”

Beautiful, mysterious, vital to this world.

“I did not take you for the poetic type,” he muses. “Anything can be deemed beautiful from one’s subjective perspective.”

“That is true,” you agree, “like your interest in the Ruin Machines. But objectively speaking, there are mathematical theories which can explain our prevalent standards of beauty. The golden ratio, for instance.”

“Ah, yes. That old thing.” A confident smile appears on his face. “I’ve read a thesis about the golden ratio in relation to facial aesthetics. Apparently, I am a good example.”

“Not a surprise. Many people find you handsome.”

“And what about you?” Zandik resumes eye contact, scarlet eyes tinged with amusement. “Do you agree with that conclusion?”

Your cheeks flush. “W-Well…yes, since you claim that your face fits the golden ratio.”

“That is an inadequate basis for your answer.” He stands in front of you and caresses your cheek, preventing you from looking away. “Why don’t you personally test that hypothesis? I will do the same with your face.”

He’s so close.

“All…all right.” You stay still and focus on his face, making the mental measurements.

His facial proportions are more or less congruent with the golden ratio. There are some details which may serve as basis for a counterargument, however.

His bangs obstruct your complete analysis. You’ve always adored his messy hairstyle, those stray curls which complement his character. You know from previous interactions that his hair is soft to the touch.

There is also his boyish, sharp-toothed grin which is equal parts manic and mischievous. His calm, close-mouthed smile is more aesthetically pleasing, but it lacks his unabashed ardor. Nevertheless, you are captivated with both versions, especially when those smiles are directed at you.

His eyes. They are like red suns, always bright and intense. There is a fascinated gleam in his gaze whenever he comes across something new.

It is beautiful. All of him.

His voice is what brings you back to reality.

“I am done with my measurements,” he announces.

“I…I see.” You give him a nervous smile, acutely aware that he is still touching your face. You’re blushing; can he tell? “So am I. Why don’t you go first?”

“You are beautiful.”

What?

Zandik taps his fingers on your cheek, tracing lines on your face. He’s close—too close, your flustered expression trapped in his ruby eyes. His expression is serious yet neutral, as though he is merely studying a specimen.

“A…according to which theory?” you stutter. “The golden ratio?”

He smiles at you. “I am speaking from my own personal opinion. If the laws of nature say otherwise, I must disagree and prove them wrong.”

A specimen worthy of his full attention.

Words fail you. What can you possibly say after receiving such a compliment?

Ever the diligent scholar, Zandik lets go of you and returns to the Ruin Guard.

“That is all I have to say,” he says. He picks up a rusty cog and takes notes. “And what of your observation? Do you find me beautiful, ______?”

You remain in your spot. “...Yes, I do.”

His tone is smug. “Objectively or subjectively?”

Honestly, why did you fall for someone like him?

“I’m not sure,” you admit.

“I see.” Zandik gives you one last smile, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Let us continue this experiment later. I am not one to be satisfied with ambiguous results.”

♡

This was originally written for the second chapter of Chemistry, but it felt too “close” for Dottore and Assistant! Darling’s early relationship. So I just edited and moved it to the last few chapters. But I couldn’t waste the lovely thought of Dottore’s s/o falling for the parts of him which aren’t considered beautiful by the golden ratio, so here we are~

Anyway, I hope y’all enjoyed this deleted scene ft. college crush Dottore ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

Tag a Dottore enjoyer!! @gum-iie @sirbotik @surveyycorps @boundinparchment @ruayiri @darherwings @oofasleep @oh-no-i-am-here @nicebonescomrades @diaboliravioli @ryo-ri @unloadingdata @sodomewithlifern @maaarshieee @dottoreslittlelabrat @poweredbyghostadventures

#il dottore #dottore #dottore x reader #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers #genshin x reader #g/n reader #jessamine-writing

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mochademic · 2 months

Text

100 Days of Productivity [Day: 61] || 100 Jours de Productivité [Jour: 61]

devour conversation, cultivate brilliance.

this is my second ‘very last’ semester, & it feels quite a bit different to my undergrad. perhaps that’s because I took a little longer to complete my courses back then than I have this time around. I feel a lot more sure of myself this time — sure of where I want to go, & what I want to do. the anticipation of what’s next is extremely exciting, but for now, I must focus on finishing what’s in front of me.

thesis modified

papers edited

course work completed

emails answered

group project submitted

mid-term work submitted

journaling/self care done

currently listening // cold air by DJ Pointless, Sace, Silent Boy

dévorer la conversation, cultiver la brillance.

c'est mon deuxième "tout dernier" semestre, et il me semble très différent de celui de ma licence. c'est peut-être parce que j'ai mis un peu plus de temps à terminer mes cours à l'époque que je ne l'ai fait cette fois-ci. Je me sens beaucoup plus sûre de moi cette fois-ci - sûre de l'endroit où je veux aller et de ce que je veux faire. l'anticipation de ce qui va suivre est extrêmement excitante, mais pour l'instant, je dois me concentrer sur la fin de ce qui est devant moi.

thèse modifiée

documents édités

travaux de cours achevés

réponses aux courriels

projet de groupe soumis

travail de mi-parcours remis

journal et soins personnels effectués

chanson // cold air par DJ Pointless, Sace, Silent Boy

#100 days of productivity #day 61 #100dop #100 jours de productivité #jour 61 #100jdp #studyblr #study motivation #studyspo #study aesthetic #study blog #bookish #gradblr

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tuliprry · 2 years

Text

sparks - h.s.

summary: y/n meets harry, a much older man while she's on vacation in southern spain.. somehow 45 minutes are all it takes to fall in love

warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), cursing, divorce, DRAMAAAAA, age gap, sort of a daddy kink?, lot's of fluff

clover's notes: for some reason tumblr changed my paragraph structure and the little symbols i had to differentiate the moments 🥲 i'll try and fix this

word count: 8.5k

y/n’s pov - august 1st

the sun shined through the hotel curtains and i groaned, i tapped my phone's screen and read 8:35am, it's so hot right now i can actually feel my brain frying, i turned on the air conditioner and closed my eyes. i have been in marbella for a day, i work at a hotel in london and in a hotel get together last month i won a week at the exact same hotel but in marbella. i could've invited a friend or even a cousin but truth be told i need this week away from everyone, my job, my family, school, seriously everyone and everything back in london. i groan once more, 8:39am, fuck this shit i'm getting up. i took a short cold shower in hopes the spanish weather would not eat me alive as soon as i stepped foot outside, i dressed a white dress with little white flowers and beige sandals with a semi decent heel, i grabbed my tote bag and threw in a book, my airpods, sunscreen and my wallet. I grabbed my sunglasses and my room card and was out my bedroom, to be honest i didn't want to go out of the hotel and visit, my entire body is honestly needing a piñacolada and a sweet calming time reading my book, which consists of beach reach by emily henry.

the pool area isn't too packed, likely because it's only 9am, i walk over to the bar area and i must've looked desperate ordering that piñacolada because the barman looked at me like i'm some sort of weirdo, maybe its the drinking alcohol at 9am on a tuesday but you see, being 23 and struggling with a master thesis, strangers and a job and your family trying to set you up with a guy you despise from your high school years you might end up just like me. as he prepared my drink i walked over to a sun lounger that hid completely in the shade and dropped my bag on top of it, only taking my wallet back to the bar, "the gentleman already paid for you", i read the name tag on the barman's t-shirt, miguel and almost repeated it out loud to ask him who the gentleman was but miguel was already talking to someone else. i look over the round counter of the bar and there's a very nicely put man with whiskey in a cup in front of him, yikes, must be having a harder week than me. "enjoy your drink" he spoke loudly enough for me to understand it, "thank you for paying for it", i reply taking a sip through the brown paper straw, "ah you're british?" he questions as he plays with his glass, "yeah, are you?" i ask, keeping an eye on my bag, "yeah i am, i come to málaga often so i've got a nice tan", he's sounds so smooth, his words aren't slurring after each other like i do, he speaks slowly but in a sexy way which gets me mentally slap myself. "if you don't mind, i left my bag over there and i have a romance waiting for me, thank you once again for the drink... that was very kind" i announced getting off the high stool and walking away before he could give me a response.

i felt weird the rest of the morning, i couldn't focus on my book nor listen to music, my brain remained stuck on the man from the bar, jesus, i came here to get away from trouble and i'm definitely just burying myself in a big one that happens to dress nicely, my eyes scanned the book one more time, oh this is ridiculous! i have read this sentence a thousand times today and i can’t seem to wrap my head around it. i looked over the book, just to take a peek at the man one more time but he wasn’t at the bar counter anymore, i pout and grab my phone, scrolling through instagram.

"margarita?" a large shadow covers the little sunshine that was warming my body up, "huh? oh! hi mr british man", i smile to him and my stomach feels bottomless for a second, i sit on my sun lounger as i grab the glass, "so... will british man finally tell me his name?" i ask sipping on the margarita, he sits on the lounger next to mine as he sips on something that definitely isn't a margarita, "i'm harry, you?", "i'm y/n!" i sound way too excited but he smiles at me, "and what does beautiful y/n do in marbella all by herself?", his eyes look like they're undressing my soul, dead ass staring me, "well um, im a masters student and i'm under a lot of pressure so i won this free week at the hotel... and you?", i try to stare him the same way but i end up looking like what my dad calls, angry puppy, "i own a winery and a wine cellar and my wines are very well loved so they also offered me a week over here" he takes another sip of what i now assume it's wine disguised in a margarita glass, "oh! i wouldn't take you as a wine owner" i blurt out, "no?", "well you look like a young writer and you're here to get inspired! or maybe it's just the plot of the book i'm reading" i point at the book and play gently with the little paper umbrella on my glass, "i'm not a writer nor young but i'm glad i still look interesting" he seems genuinely content that i just thought he was just a little older than me, "before you ask.. i turn 39 in february", i almost immediately reply "god thats so hot" but i swallow my words, "i'm 23 and i'm far from being interesting harry, look at me im a 23 year old reading romances hiding from glorious spanish sun and im a masters student in theatre arts that is currently doing a thesis in contemporary musicals and performance.. god i need a sip" he's smiling at me, i don't know why because i feel like i just said the most boring phrase for regular people, "that is very interesting, y/n, at 23 i had no prospects for my future so... you're doing good", oh that was it, my stomach felt even more out of my body with that small praise, i feel my cheeks burn and i try to look away from harry, feeling like a shy child.

it's been 45 minutes and we're still talking, i can't help but stare at him more than i should, so much so i immediately said yes when he asked if we could have lunch together on his boat, didn't even have the decency to think for a minute before getting back to him, truth is sometimes my mind slips to my ex boyfriend, we broke up a month ago and when i opened instagram on the airport yesterday, there he was, spending money on a hotel with a beautiful girl and i had to hold my tears from crying on my first day of vacation and now here's this man.. man... a man! asking me to have lunch on his yacht and it gets my brain so intoxicated with dopamine making a little gentle smile pop up in my lips.

on a small boat, a spanish man took us to harry's yacht, that read "brisa parisina" (parisian breeze), i had never been this close to a yacht ever, my times at the sea were always a month in cornwall with my dad after him and my mum got divorced and we stayed back in london so my siblings and i wouldn't have to change schools, but i had never been so close to such a big boat, harry thanks the man and hands him a 50 euro bill and i gulp looking at the big tip for a 5 minute trip from the deck to harry's yacht, but it’s his money so i try to not show my shocked face as he steps out of the small boat to the ladder that leads to what i assume the deck of the yacht, he reaches his hand out for me and i say “muchas gracias” to the man and get on top of the boat with harry’s help. the immediate thing i see is the light brown flooring that has grey cushions on top on the right and left, leaving a small path towards the helm station that controls the boat that has sofa looking like cushions on both sides and a small table. harry keeps walking through that and gets down the most tight staircase i’ve ever seen and been on, there’s a table, a big tv, and more sofas and even art hanging in the walls, a kitchenette with lots of storage place, four oven tops, a microwave, a sink bigger than mine at home and a small fridge and freezer, my stomach starts to hurt, i had realise this man was rich.. but like not i have a huge yacht rich, right after the kitchen (that even has a small wine compartment and a huge cooking space that has me speechless), there’s another small door that leads to a suite, a huge bedroom that i would not say was behind the tiny door and a very decent sized bathroom. “you can leave your bag here” harry points at the bed and i nod, “there’s another two bedrooms and bathrooms on the other side of the yacht but they’re pretty much the same, just smaller”, not one but two bedrooms? i take my phone out of my bag and type in the brand of the boat on google, 1 million pounds, i almost let a scream out of my mouth as i read the price and then the costs of maintaining a boat like this and my asos dress suddenly feels like a potato bag. i can see harry from where i’m standing, he’s opening a bottle of red wine and i’m tempted to google the price of it too.. but i don’t, i locked my phone and threw it to the bed along with my stuff and walked back to him.

“okay you have to try this wine, it’s a cabernet sauvignon from my winery in italy, it has a black cherry and black pepper flavour but i think you’ll enjoy it” he hands me a glass, “do you like mushroom paté? i have some we can snack on as i make lunch” i take a sip of the wine and god, i’ve never had red wine this good, in fact i think i’ve hated all the times i had red wine, “i’ve never had wine this good.. nor mushroom paté.. sorry” i can feel my cheeks flush and i look out the small window above the sink, staring at the blue ocean, harry gets closer to me and he looks way taller when he’s this close, “good thing there’s a first time for everything, right?” he whispers but almost melodically, “can i kiss you?” his tone remains the same, give me goosebumps that led to a broken “yes” and placing the wine glass on the kitchenette counter. his hands met my face, both his thumbs on my cheeks, he firstly gives me a peck and then proceeds to kiss me with more passion this time, his tongue in sync with mine, one his hands that was holding my face drops to my waist, pulling me closer to him, i can feel him smile in between the kiss and i open my eyes, “what’s so funny?” i ask trying to make an angry voice, “you taste good that’s all”, “oh yeah?”, “taste very good” he then kisses me again, this time shorter. “what do you want for lunch?” harry opens one of the cupboards over my head and takes a cream coloured saucepan with a brown wood handle out, “you invited me harry i don’t know”, “what about truffled macaroni with smoked haddock and then i let it bake for a bit?” i’m pretty sure i’ve never had haddock in the first place, “harry.. sorry to ask, what’s.. a haddock?”, i feel embarrassed, telling a 38 year old man i’ve never had.. whatever he mentioned, “oh! it’s a fish.. i can always make it vegetarian if you prefer?” i smile to him, “how did you know i want to be a vegetarian?” i furrowed my eyebrows, “i didn’t but i’m a flexitarian so i have tofu in here”, i’m starting to believe this man is too good to be true, “you know i have to follow the times and eating less meat and fish is a way to help the planet”, okay i need to get into his pants now this isn’t a joke, “wow”, “what?”, “nothing, i’m not used to hanging out with men that are educated on these things” i say honestly, he gives me a shy smile and points to the oven, “want to help me cook?”, “yeah of course”.

after lunch that was paired with a white wine that i honestly couldn’t pronounce, harry sailed the boat to further from the dock, i wouldn’t say we were in the middle of nowhere but we weren’t exactly somewhere i could pin point, my phone even says my location is the mediterranean sea. i’m laying down on the deck sofa’s in the shade as harry is now coming back upstairs wearing only black and white swim shorts and flip flops, “why aren’t you catching some sun, y/n? it’s a great day” he sits next to me, grabbing my legs and putting them on his lap, “i’m terrified of getting a sunburn, i got one a few years ago in sandymouth and i couldn’t sleep for two weeks, i don’t need that again” i sighed closed the book i’m yet to read properly, “oh you’re from cornwall?” harry asks, “my dad lives in plymouth but i’m actually from london, i mean i was born in romford but yeah… you?”, “well i’m from a small town near manchester but i live in london for.. 20 years now”, 20 years… god he was 18 when he moved to london, i was 3 when he was 18 oh my god, “i’ve actually never been to manchester” i admit, i don’t know how is that any interesting but it’s the truth, “whenever you want to, i’m more than happy to show you around” he offers as he stars to rub my legs.. gently, i honestly feel like moaning and he’s not even doing anything too special, “do you mind if i work a little bit next to you?” he doesn’t stop the massage on my right leg, “shouldn’t this be your vacation, harry?”, “it should but-“, “no buts! let me get up lets find something to do” i say enthusiastically, i sit next to him and grab his hand, “do you have any games? we just ate so i don’t think swimming in the cold water is good for us”, “i think my goddaughter left a unicorn cards game when she was here with me” he affirms, “GREAT! let’s play”.

“unstable unicorns, build a unicorn army, betray your friends, unicorns are your friends now” harry reads off the box, to explain quickly, you start the game with one baby unicorn of your choice, and then the deck is shuffled and u get 5 cards, those can be basic unicorns, magic unicorns, magic cards, upgrades, downgrades or a neigh (that stops the other players play), i explain exactly the same to harry, i had played this game with my friends and harry didn’t fully remember how to play, “i pick this baby” i say grabbing a rainbow coloured baby unicorn card, harry picks a pink coloured baby unicorn and says, “this is my god daughters favourite baby”, i smile at the thought of harry with children, “how old is she?”, “she’s 8, we spent her 8th here actually” he observes as he shuffles the deck and places 5 cards in front of each of us, i grab my cards and i try to hide the little smirk on my face, “y/n start you’re the one wearing a colourful bikini” he looks over to me and i place a basic unicorn next to the baby unicorn, “look harry it’s you” i point at the unicorn with a beard, “oh are you calling me basic y/n?” he fakes an angry tone, “no! i’m just saying this very cute unicorn is you because of the beard!” i reply pretending to be offended he thought i was offending him, “don’t be upset, little girl, i was just messing with you” oh good grief i can feel my stomach doing flips, he plays a basic unicorn as well and the came continues, with actions and neighs and yelling at each other over downgrades that made me sacrifice one of my unicorns which led to me stealing harry’s baby unicorn, “HA!” i scream, “I GOT YOOOOOU” she giggles as she places the pink baby on her stable, “y/n! not the baby!” he pouts and stares at his game, i didn’t know he was a sore loser but he seriously looked very upset, i got up and stood next to him, “harry i didn’t mean to upset you it’s just a game, i’ll give you your unicorn back” i affirm, “harry c’mon” i squat so i can look at his face from under, “i’m sorry” i place my hand on his thigh and he looks to me, “don’t be” i don’t even have time to process his words because his lips crash in mine and when i realise we are kissing again, i get up and he follows me, going back to my lips immediately after, running his hands through my shoulders and then my arms. “you scared me” i say in between kisses, “sorry.. it was just sweet to see you that worried about me” he whispers against my mouth, “i didn’t mean to upset you, h”, “you didn’t”, he gives me a little peck, “want to finish the game, unicorn robber?”, “HEY! and yes”.

i ended up winning the first game and harry the second so we were even but i couldn’t stop thinking about those kisses, i was putting the cards back in the box and harry was making us gin and tonic, “we could go for a swim don’t you think?” he suggests as he’s finishing the drinks, “i’m scared to swim without feeling the sand or ground harry, i’m not exactly tall like you” i admit, “don’t worry, i got you” he says as he places one of the cups in front of me, “i wouldn’t ask if i had intentions of not being there in case you need me, plus it’s 4pm the water must be so great now” he sits next to me and gives me a small forehead kiss before sipping on his gin, “sooooo”, “fine! but don’t let me go”, “i could never”. so we did end up swimming for a bit, mediterranean sea was warm and it felt good to swim with harry, i ended up sitting at the edge of the boat as he swam a little more, “you know you don’t look 38 right” i think the second glass of gin is making me too honest, “i don’t?”, “god no, you look max 28, i swear i was eye fucking you when i saw you sitting at the bar this morning”, “oh.. you were eye fucking me?” he furrowed his eyebrows as he swam back to me, sitting on the small space next to me, “tell me more” he emphasises on the more, “harry…”, i try not to sound worried, “yes?”, i get up and show him my hand so he can follow me, i sit on the sofa right next to the wheel, “i feel like i need to tell you this, i broke up with my boyfriend a month ago, he didn’t have time for me and he barely talked to me and it reached a point i was doing everything alone and i felt like i was the one fighting for my relationship and without me there would be nothing so i broke up with him” i vomit the words, “yesterday when i landed in malaga, he was posting stories on a hotel room with this girl i had seen comment his instagram posts and it really got to me.. and i don’t want to do anything without you knowing this” i breathe out and i feel relieved but worried about what harry could possibly say, “that fucking sucks y/n, i’m really sorry he did that to you, a real man would never do that” he cleans the tear off my cheek, “and i’m glad you told me, gives me more reasons to treat you like a lady deserves to be treated”, oh god here comes the butterflies again, “harry…can i kiss you again?” i ask and he nods, not waiting for me to make a move and kissing me again, salty from the sea and the small drips from our hairs falling onto our faces, “want to go downstairs?” he asks, “yes, please”.

“harry we’re wet you sure you want to do this now?” i ask mid kiss, “i need you so bad i don’t care”, his hands grab my face, “i just want to make you feel good, bunny”, harry purrs, i immediately press my thighs together to his words and especially the new nickname out of his mouth, “lay down for me, please” he murmured and i laid back as fast as i could, almost desperately harry’s hands meet then my pink high waist bikini bottoms, pulling them along my legs and throwing them to the ground, his hands separated my knees, giving him full view of my vagina, “fuck” he blurted, “can i taste you?”, my legs immediately feel like jell-o when he asks, “yes, yes please” i cried out. he licked his lips and proceeded to kiss my inner left thigh as his free hand massaged my right thigh tenderly, his index finger brushed against my slit, making me whimper to his touch, "god damn y/n" he breathed, "your pussy is so pretty, bunny, all wet... just for me", a couple of words and i was basically melting in front of this man, without warning his warm tongue flicks against my folds, i bucked my hips up and grabbed the sheets, holding onto them, my brain was fuzzy at this point, “harry… harry please” i cried out, i needed him so fucking bad, “hush bunny” i look down and his eyes are filled with lust as his lips part from my pussy, his middle finger slid right in, he eyes me and his mouth finds its way to my clit, gently nibbling on it as his finger thrust inside me, “harry..” i moan as my vision literally starts to go black, “cum for me, bunny” he grunts and i let go of the sheets at the same time i cum in harry’s finger. he removed his finger at the same time his free thumb keeps stimulating my clit, he sucks his finger and then looks at me with a grin on his face, “you taste so fucking good”, but i don’t have time to reply, he’s cleaning the cum off my already so sensitive cunt.

he moves his body up to kiss me, there’s saliva running down his chin and falling onto my chest, “see how good you taste, y/n? fuck you’re driving me insane”, he untangles the straps of my bikini top, that ends up on the bedroom floor as well, “your tits are perfect”, he hungry says as he pinches my nipples, a hint of pain all over my body when he does that but it feels to good, his mouth is busy getting to know my other nipple, “i love that you taste like the sea” he admits. in a swift he takes his swimming trunks, his cock is pressed against my pussy and i’m so close to begging him to fuck me, hard. “harry.. i need you, please”, he kisses my lips one more time as his cock pushes in inside me, slowly, inch by inch, i was already so sensitive that whatever game this man was trying to play was making me dizzy, speechless. once he was all in, his thrusts became more rapid and in sync, hitting my g spot, his index finger was back on my clit rubbing it frantically, he kissed me and i could feel my heart racing and my pussy clenching around him, “harry, harry i’m gonna cum” my legs start shaking, “fuck fuck wait for me” he pleads and i hold onto his back, pressing my nails against it, my eyes roll back as he collapses inside me with one last thrust. shockwaves through my entire body feeling his warmth inside of me.

“has anyone ever told you..you give the best orgasms ever? fuck, you’re such a good girl” harry cooed, making my already flushed cheeks burn even more, “actually i.. i had never had an orgasm with anyone if not… myself”, harry looks at me dead serious as he carefully removes himself from inside me, “a day of firsts, huh, bunny?” he kisses me, “if you keep calling me bunny i fear i need you to fuck me again” i blur out, “oh yeah, bunny? how about we talk about it in the shower?”

by the time we were done in the shower it was too late to come back to the port deck so harry ended up giving me one of his t-shirts and briefs, “what do you want for dinner?”, he asks, grabbing the already opened bottle of red wine, “is it bad that.. i want to say you?”, “okay i know you said i don’t look old but twice in a day almost put me on cardiac arrest, little girl”, i giggle to his response and hug him from behind, “sorry! i think i’m intoxicated by you, i just need you so fucking bad”, he looks at me, pensive, “jesus christ, y/n…you’re a filthy slut aren’t you?” he turns around, looking me in the eyes, “you’re probably ruining my briefs just by thinking about me fucking you, am i right?”, i stand immobile, i can’t even find any words to describe how wet i am or how he’s completely right, “aw, did i make my princess speechless?”, he gets his face closer to mine, “if you behave like the good little girl i know you are..maybe just maybe, daddy will take care of you before bed” he turns around getting various vegetables out of the fridge, “care to help me, princess?”, i gulp and quickly reply, “yes of course”.

i woke up to harry’s typing on his laptop, i groaned as i stretched my arms and legs next to him, “harry… you told me you wouldn’t work c’mon” i sit and place my head on his shoulder, “sorry, my ex wife sent me an email saying she wants the yacht for the 21st of august and i was telling her no because i got the yacht on the divorce”, my smile fades and it’s like i’m close to throw up, ex.. ex wife.. he was married? oh. “oh.. your ex?.. wife?”, he closes his laptop and places his hand on my thigh, “yeah, we got divorced 5 years ago” he squeezes my thigh as he speaks, “you don’t need to worry y/n.. 24 hours with you made me feel more alive than 2 years with her”, he kisses my forehead and i smile to myself, god what is this man doing to me, i’m here jealous over an ex wife and happy i won something she’s not even in the race for, “harry” i say, “yeah?”, “can we go back to marbella? i really want my clothes” he laughs and nods in agreement.

back at the hotel, harry is sitting at the edge of my bed, “harry i’m not sure i should join you to golf.. you’re golfing with santiago hernandez, my literal boss!”, “and have u ever met him?”, “no he has never been to the london hotel in the 2 years i’ve worked there but that doesn’t mean it’s not weird” i turn my back to him, “zip my dress up, please?” i ask, he zips the yellow sundress up carefully, “y/n just join me, princess, if he asks just say you work for me”, “yes, because i’m a great wine expert!” i mock him as i gesture my hands, indicating that harry is insane. “i can always say you’re my wife, my very sexy wife”, he pulls me closer and buries his face in my boobs, “i can even mark you up, so he knows you’re all mine” i feel my panties soaking already, “harry.. fine! but just because it’s a very good argument” i try to hide the smile on my face, “but care to explain how are we married without wedding rings?” i raise his chin up, “we can always buy them”, “harry i have £64 on my account, i can maximum buy a claire’s ring that will turn my finger green” i give him a gentle peck, “oh no no you’re MY wife, i’m buying you a wedding band… if he asks your engagement ring is getting cleaned”, “you really thought this through, huh?”, “when it comes to you, i don’t see money, princess, i’m spoiling you for as long as you want me to” he kisses my neck, “about those marks… can i please?” i let out an “mhm”, i loved how harry constantly asked me for consent but at the same time was assertive and a couple of words would literally make me ruin a pair of panties.

i looked in the mirror before leaving, noticing the hickey on my left boob, i tried to brush off my thoughts but i just couldn’t. harry was matching me, yellow pants and green polo, looking way too good for my thoughts to go away, i can’t play golf, in fact i think i’ve only played mini golf my entire life, “sweetpea, do you prefer gold or silver?” harry asks, looking at a collection of wedding bands, “i personally like gold more” i say, looking at a pair of golden hoops with daisies dangling from it, “do you like them?” harry looks over my shoulder, “yeah they’re pretty…. don’t even think about it” i give him a “mean” look, “fine! just choose the band you like the most” he says pointing at the golden wedding bands, “that one is pretty and simple”, “then that one it is”. he’s purchasing the wedding bands and i stand next to him just staring, “it’ll be those daisy earrings too”, he points and i gasp, “harry no?”, “y/n yes.. it’s my money, just let me get them.” he hands in a black card to the salesperson and i hold his free hand, still a little upset. harry drives us to the los naranjos golf club, before we get out of the car, each of us puts the wedding band, i feel so weird at first, i’ve never been a good liar and this was a big fucking lie. at the reception harry shows his membership to the club and then points at me, “she’s my wife”, i press my lips together so i don’t say something i shouldn’t and i stand there eyeing the red haired woman, “oh we can put your wife down for a membership”, she points at a computer screen, “maybe later, would that be okay?” harry’s arm is wrapped around my waist, tightly. “yeah of course, mr. styles, here’s your wife’s pass for the day”, she hands me a laminated pass that proves i can he there for the day and we make our way in, harry gripping onto my waist still, “oh hello harry” a tall man with brown hair a beige hat speaks up as he walks in our direction, “santiago! hey man”, i gulp, to be totally honest i had never seen the man that pays my paycheck so i just hold harry as well, hoping he does all the talking, “you got remarried?” santiago asks laying his eyes on me, “yeah dude, it was a very spontaneous thing but i couldn’t wait any longer”, harry smiles at me, “this is y/n.. y/n this is santiago” he introduces us and i reach my hand but santiago comes in for a kiss on each cheek, “it’s how we do it in spain” he exclaims. “will y/n be playing with us?” before harry can reply i let out a laugh, “god no i’ve never payed golf”, “play with us sweetpea, i’ll teach you”.

“i’ve only ever played mini golf with my nephews”

“you have nephews?”

“yes two and they always lose”

“it would be bad if you lost mini golf to children don’t you think y/n?”

“oh yeah? i bet u a thousand kisses that i win mini golf back in london”

“you’re on, princess”

it’s been an hour and a half, i’m sitting on the golf cart, drinking a mojito as i wait for my turn to play, a woman that i assume is santiago’s wife is also sitting here, she’s not playing though, she’s on the phone talking about pta meetings and dentist appointments, she sometimes glances at me and does a very disgusted face, “y/n! baby! it’s your turn” harry screams, i place the mojito on the cart and i run to him, “help me?” i kiss him and he places himself behind me, “i know exactly what you are doing y/n and it’s not funny” he whispers in my ear and puts my arms in the correct angle, “be a good little girl for me, yeah?” harry then kisses my cheek and moves my arms so the club hits the little white ball. “i think santiago’s wife hates me” i mention it to harry, grabbing his hand, “what? why? did she say anything to you?” his relaxed expression is now a worried one, tensing his eyebrows, “no.. she just looks at me weird” i sigh, “is she.. friends with your ex wife?” i regret the question the moment i ask it, “yeah.. she is, i’m so sorry y/n, i didn’t even think about it when i asked you, she usually doesn’t even come to our games.. i’m really sorry, princess” i frown as he explains, his lips kiss my forehead, “it’s okay” i lie, walking back to the cart, drinking the rest of my mojito.

harry’s pov

after the game y/n ran to the bathroom, the mojito really took a toll on her bladder, so i’m outside with santiago and phillipa, i feel tense just thinking that phillipa could’ve possibly mentioned lauren to y/n or mentioned y/n to lauren, “so harry, santiago told me you got remarried… i asked lauren and she had no idea” phillipa says with a cynical tone, “that’s because lauren is my ex wife, she doesn’t need to know what i do with my life” i snark back, “and isn’t your new wife.. kinda young” phillipa strikes again, santiago touches her arm and i breathe in, “she looks like she’s still university… oh wait she is! isn’t that weird, harry? marrying a woman that is maximum 24?” her words ringing in my ears, “phillipa mi amor, don’t” santiago says sternly, “what? santiago she’s much younger than him, would u go for a younger woman?”, “he’s divorced he can do whatever he wants, pipa, c’mon!”.

and then i see her, with two ice cream cups on her hand, “they had the absolutely disgusting mint chip” y/n hands me the cup, “yuck” she exclaims, “oh.. sorry guys i didn’t know what flavours you liked”, i don’t know how this woman does it, has me grabbed by the throat, completely whipped when i’ve known her for a little over 24 hours. “oh that’s okay y/n” santiago says, “pipa and i were just leaving… i’m sorry harry” he says as he shakes my hand and leaves, semi yelling at phillipa. “what happened?” y/n asks, grabbing a scoop of her pistachio ice cream, “nothing, want to go back to the hotel?”.

the next 5 days fly by, y/n moved her stuff into my room and we have been doing everything together, so much so we have not taken the wedding bands off, y/n asked if we could keep wearing them and i couldn’t say no, i could never say no to her. so we are now at the málaga airport, y/n is going through a romance section of books in english and telling me how she has read at least 90% of the books in there, “harry my tummy hurts, do you have any paracetamol with u?” she asks and i get out of my daydreamy state of mind, “i think i do, what’s wrong?” i open my tote bag and hand the tablet to y/n, “my period must be starting soon”, “oh nooo my sweet princess, do you want a kiss?” i don’t wait for her reply and start kissing her face, “are you sure you want to.. continue this back in london?”, “what? y/n, i’m so sure of this.. of us.. i’m still wearing a fake wedding band for you..i’m 100% sure.”

y/n’s pov

life back in london has definitely been special, minus the fact that whenever i say i’m sleeping over at willow’s i actually mean i’m staying at harry’s and i use the name of his cat.. but other than that, things are good, harry presented me to some of his friends, goes to musicals with me, ended up meeting my younger sister milly, to drop off a christmas gift at my house, making my youngest sister jane force me to facetime harry on christmas day so she could meet him too, a very persuasive 15 year old.. and god the sex, i don’t think i’ve ever had this much fun in my life ever, this man just knows exactly how to treat me right, driving me completely insane at times.

6 months later

today is harry’s birthday, i spent my morning in class and basically prayed the tube would be fast as fuck so i could be at harry’s house by lunch time, i got there around 2:13pm, starving, i opened harry’s apartment door and was greeted by willow, “oh hi my sweet girl” i say enthusiastically, “where’s your dad” i chase willow to the kitchen, harry is naked, only wearing an apron as he cooks what i bet it’s his tomato and beans pastry, “i don't know what looks better, my husband naked or your famous pastry” i giggle as i put my bags on the floor and run to kiss him, “happy birthday my love”, i kiss him again, “to your question, both are great things, second, thank you, princess” he kisses my forehead, “okay! i have your gifts, do you want to open them now?” i ask grabbing the bags i put on the floor, “three bags? y/n i told u to not spend money on me” his tone is demanding, almost mean, and i can’t help but love it, “oh one of these i have to put on and you take it off, ya know?” his eyes widened, “oh i do know” he smirks. harry’s gifts are an intimacy card deck for us to play on our stay in date nights, the lingerie set with hearts that he said and i’ll quote “would love to fuck you in this” so..i got it and an electric wine opener, personalised with his name, “fuck princess, you treat me so good” this kiss is more passionate than when i got home, “do you want me to put this on?” i question him, innocently, “yes fuck yeah baby please”.

sex with harry is always a religious experience, doesn’t matter if it’s morning, afternoon or night he always finds a way to exhaust the life out of me… in a very good way, harry is on his laptop looking for the same lingerie set, because even though i asked, he ripped the bra trying to get it off, my legs still feel wobbly, i check the time on my phone and it’s 5pm, our dinner reservation is only at 8pm so i have more than enough time to rest, i look at myself in the bathroom mirror, god i look like i’ve been through a tornado, i take my eyeliner (or the rest of it) off and brush my hair putting it on a ponytail, i pee and i go the bedroom to get a new pair of panties, “harry where’s my care bears robe?” i ask mid yawn, “behind the bathroom door, love” i nod and put the fake wedding band on my finger, i see harry smiling to himself, “oh shut up” i say walking into his bathroom again and putting on a dark pink robe with various care bears drawings that matched the care bears slippers, this was one of harry’s christmas gift to me, he said he had never met anyone that loved care bears as much as me, i smile at the memory. the doorbell rings and i get out of the bathroom, “get dressed harry it’s likely a friend of yours to wish you a happy birthday”, “oh when did you get so demanding”, “c’mooooon get dressed old man!”.

i run downstairs and i open the door, “..you’re not harry” the woman grunts, “no….i’m his-“, “oh you’re the new wife.”, “um.. i’ll go get.. harry” i’m so confused by this woman i just rush upstairs again, “there’s a woman at the door” i sit in bed, petting willow, “a woman?”, “yeah.. mid 30s.. brunette.. brown eyes, gucci bag” i try and describe her, “oh” that’s all he says. “oh? why oh? who is that- oh” i put two and two together, i had always told harry i didn’t want to know who his ex wife was and that came right after me, “come with me, please, i don’t want to be with her alone” harry lets out a loud sigh, “of course harry” in reality i’m shitting myself. he goes ahead of me and she has made herself at home, sitting on the sofa, “what do you want, lauren?”, she gets up and goes to hug him but harry immediately stops her, “oh is that how you greet your ex-wife?.. didn’t take you for a rude person, harry. i guess your new wife has changed you” bitch, bitch, BITCH, is all i can think, my blood is boiling so hard, it feels illegal to be angry in care bear clothing. “you’re my ex wife for a reason, can you please tell me what the fuck do you want?” harry puts himself in front of me and i clench my fists out of anger, “came to wish you a happy birthday, baby”, “my god lady will you please get the fuck out” i yell, i don’t know where that came from but i feel angry and upset and close to beating her up if she doesn’t leave my home, i mean, harry’s home. “what? are you gonna let her speak to me like that?” she looks offended, good. “yes, get out of our home, now”… our home. our home.

harry and i don’t talk about what happened until we’re at the restaurant, he’s wearing a white shirt that isn’t buttoned all the way up, black pants with golden buttons and black loafers, he had a big heavy black coat on top that is now on the back of his chair, i’m wearing a ruffled light blue dress with spaghetti straps, the dress reaches my mid thigh and it’s freezing in february so i have tights on, my white doctor martens and a puffy jacket that is on my chair as well. he holds my hand on top of the table, “y/n.. i only love you, please know that.. well you and willow”, “i love you so much harry, i’m sorry this day isn’t your best birthday”, “don’t be silly, i spent 38 dreadful birthdays, i’m glad 39th is with the love of my life.” harry orders the wine for us, as usual, we both happen to go for pasta dishes… which let’s be honest is also the usual, “harry i’m gonna go to the bathroom, okay?” he nods as he’s munching on garlic bread. as i get out of the bathroom i see my older brother, angus, standing in front of me, “angus??? what the fuck” i whisper-yell at him, “y/n? what are you doing here? did mum and dad invite u?” that question almost made me die in front of him, “mum and dad are here?? fuck no! angus, angus do not tell them i’m here please! i’ll babysit jacob and matthew anytime u ask me to, u don’t even have to pay me anything” i’m desperate at this point, “heeeeeeeeey okay that’s a very big promise y/n.. oh good lord are you here with that older guy? IS THAT A WEDDING BAND” he just yelled that to the entire restaurant, “angus shut up!” as i yell back to my brother. i see my dad staring at the both of us causing a scene in a restaurant, my dad just recently got remarried…to his husband… paul and things in the family haven’t been easy, especially between him and my mum, which led him to flee the table looking for my brother for some peace, “y/n cookie, what are you doing here?”, “dad i’m here with my boyfriend but can u please, please not tell mummy?” i hope he can sense the panic in my voice because i’m literally about to throw up. “okay cookie, breathe love” my dad side hugs me, brushing his fingers through my cheek, “angus and i won’t tell mummy okay? go enjoy your dinner, cookie” i breathe out the air i was holding in and go back to the table. “i was going to look for you, y/n, i was getting worried” harry sits back down, “why are you shaking, what’s wrong?”, “my brother, my dad, my nephews…and my mum are all here..we are so fucked harry, my brother saw the wedding band and i’m pretty sure my dad did too but he promised not to say anything to my mum………..that is walking in our direction right now” this is it. i’m fucked. i’m so fucked, i don’t even know why i’m fucked at almost 24 but i’m fucked because i hid my relationship with a man 16 years my senior from my entire family but my siblings and i’m fucked. “y/n y/s/n y/l/n why are your brother and your father trying to lie to me? who is this?” oh god, i only have time to hide my hand under the table and breathe in and out. “hi mummy… um i.. this is harry” i’m stuttering, “hello ms y/l/n” harry gets up and stares at her, not knowing exactly what to do, “and what are you to my daughter?”, “i’m.. her boyfriend”, “y/n what is this?” i try to speak but nothing comes out of my mouth, i had nothing planned, i was thinking of maybe introducing harry to my family on my birthday party so it would be easier, “um.. uh.. well.. you know.. he..” i take my hand from under the table and hide my face in both my hands. bad idea. “oh my god, you got married to this man? how old are you? 50?” she starts yelling and i feel small, if i didn’t have words before now i just don’t want to be here anymore, my brother is trying to calm her down, harry is explaining they’re promise rings and he’s 39 which in my mum’s head is now 50 and my dad is holding the twins by the hand.

what. a. fucking. birthday.

i’m sitting on a bench, crying, harry is talking with my brother and my nephews and my parents are sat, one on each side, “amelia, let me do the talking, okay?” my dad snaps at my mum, “we just got expelled from a restaurant because of you, let ME do the talking” i had never seen my father this mad, “cookie, i understand your mum’s point by seeing you with a much older man, but i don’t understand why you didn’t come to us”, he’s now doing the cheek thing again, “because mum would make the exact same scene and harry would just see me as the stupid little girl that still needs her parents approval though she’s 23” i pout, i truly feel like a child with my reactions, “listen y/n.. i didn’t mean to cause a scene, bubs, i saw the rings and you know harry looks much older than you and i thought he was trying to hurt you” i swallow my tears, “how.. how long have you been dating this man”, “since august”, “AUGUST?”, “yes i’m so sorry”, i let my tears out again, “no, y/n don’t say sorry.. i feel so hurt with myself that you didn’t felt like it was safe to tell us for 6 months.. do milly and jane know?” when she mentions my younger sisters my expression changes from sad to guilty, “angus, milly and jane all knew… but only milly met harry”, “milly met harry?”, “yeah harry dropped off my christmas present at home and milly was the one that helped him…remember my friend willow.. the one i sleep over a lot and got me the care bears robe.. well willow is the name of harry’s cat” i just sat there in silence, i looked over at harry and the twins and i was no longer listening to my parents, “harry” i call out, “please come meet my mum and dad”.

i get up and stand next to him, “mummy, dad, this is harry, my boyfriend” i hold his hand tightly, playing with his wedding band.. i frown my eyebrows, i had never realised, his band was engraved with our initials.

the end (or not)

taglist: @psicostyles@behindmygreyeyes@your-local-lesbian-on-lexapro@mvaldez7821@tiktokandtvismylife @silvermistwannabe @harrysgoldenhome @subbbyharry @buckybarnessimpp@gabshouse @sassqwn @thegirlnextdoorssister @theanxietyqueen17 @michellekstyles

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annikin-annotates · 1 year

Note

hi,

if you write head canon would you be willing to write an aemond x female reader with never diagnosed or treated ADHD? feel free to ignore if that's weird.

thank you.

Hiya!

It’s not weird at all! I’m actually a Psych student with undiagnosed ADHD, who is also writing her thesis on ADHD in the medieval ages so this is very much up my alley!

It’s actually a rather interesting topic! People with ADHD were more often than not sent out as crusaders, explorers and hunters due to their restlessness but also because they were so alert all the time. Making hunting and traveling long distances easier! So in order to keep small folk with ADHD occupied, they would be given jobs outside like working the field or things that involved a lot of hyper focus such as blacksmithing.

I hope you enjoy what I wrote, I also hope it brings some catharsis; But without further ado! Reblogs appreciated

Pairing: Aemond X ADHD!Reader

Word Count: 926

Warnings: Mild panic attack, Sensory overload.

You had always known that you were different.

It started when you had trouble focusing in your studies - preferring to live in the confines of the world in your head.

your siblings had called you boring and scatterbrained. The constant restlessness ate away at you.

but it wasn’t your fault - truly, you couldn’t help it. your mind raced all the time, like there were a million voices overlapping each other. All fighting to be heard at the same time.

When you reached the age to be introduced to court you were sent to King’s Landing.

And that’s when you met him Aemond Targaryen - The second son to the most powerful house in all seven kingdoms.

And he liked you.

you began courting with the Prince rather quickly after that, you were elated that you got to spend more time with him. but there was that voice whispering in the back of your head at all times.

He will leave you when he figures out who you really are - It whispered cruelly.

The first time he noticed it was while on a stroll in the gardens - you picked the cuticles of your nails. It was so subtle he almost didn’t notice it; it reminded him of his mother.

But once he did - he started seeing more things you did.

You were unusually quiet compared to the other young women at court, leaning more towards your own company save himself and a few other maidens at court.

A lot of the times when he would seek you out you would be in the library staring out the window with a far off look in your eyes.

You forgot things - a lot. Not that Aemond minded, he was by your side most of the time between his princely duties.

There was a banquet one evening - you had expressed to your friend at court how you did not enjoy those types of gatherings.

“I think I shall just stay in for the night, you know I prefer my own company”

Your friend would not take no for an answer, insisting that you simply must attend, that there would be revelry, drinking, dancing and food. So you caved to your friends whims.

You felt ill the second you stepped through the threshold, though you tried to shake it off - a goblet of wine may help dull the roiling in your stomach.

It did not.

you had originally planned to make your way to Aemond right away, you felt safe with him at the very least.

Your friends had other plans, instead pulling you to the dance floor. Just looking at the swirling dresses and smiling lords and ladies made you feel sick - but you pressed on.

You tried to dance and be happy with your friends, and you were for a while. But things quickly became too much.

The hall became stiflingly hot, your clothes felt like they weighed more than they did before. Your skin felt like it was trying to crawl away from you - the sticky feeling of sweat clinging you you.

The overwhelming sounds in the room became too much, you could hear lords chewing their food and ladies cackling too loudly.

Your friends tried to pull you back to the dance floor, but you shook their hands off you - it was all too much, just like you had said.

Heat rose to your face, your ears burning in both anger that your friends did not listen to you. And that familiar feeling of embarrassment that you couldn’t control how you felt. It was as if your brain was racing and your heart was trying to crawl from your chest.

“Leave me be! I told you that I did not want to come here and you made me!”

You searched for the exit, pushing open the doors to the hall quicker than the guards could. darting down the hall and to the library where you finally felt safe.

It was quiet - the tension slowly releasing from your body as you sat in one of the plush high backed chairs, tucking your knees to your chin. A few tears and a strangled cry escaped from your lips, all of the emotions finally coming out.

“I thought I might find you here - what is the matter my sweet girl?”

Aemond had seen the whole thing from where he sat at the table on the dias. He watched as you quickly became unsure of your surroundings, seeing the panic set in broke his heart. but by the time he got to you, you had already made your escape - so he went straight to the place he knew you would be.

Quickly wiping the tears from your eyes and uncurling your legs so you could stand, he shook his head as if to say ‘please, just sit. You are okay.’

He knew that when you were like this - being touched was the last thing you wanted.

So he simply sat across from you, his hand upturned and outstretched for you to hold it if you so wished.

Soon you had calmed enough to get up and kneel in front of him, laying your head in his lap.

His hand softly stroked your hair in a soothing manner.

“I do not understand what is wrong with me, Aemond.”

He let out a soft sigh.

“There is nothing wrong with you my love, people don’t understand you. but they don’t have to - because I do. And as long as you are with me; you are safe.”

Taglist: @adelusionalwriter @arcielee @hopelesswritergall @princesssszzzz @whoahoney

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whiskey-bumblebee · 5 months

Text

I'm On Fire (Chapter 8)

Pairing: DBF!Aaron Hotchner/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: the final chapter! finally! thank you everybody for encouraging me to lead the story to an ending I'm more satisfied with.

Warnings: Age gap relationship (older Hotch, younger reader), arguments, deaths of Haley and Jack, breaking and entering

Taglist: @littlepeanut03 @rosaline-black @moonmark98 @yuly @jazzymariexoxoc @frogoko @morgthemagpie @laisy @whoreforhondo @ssamorganhotchner @lex13cm @mrs-ssa-hotch @violetlilites @fairy-alix @mercurysrhapsody @art-and-thoughts @rousethemouse

Five years later

You trace your fingers over the spines of the books.

340.2, 340.54, 340.57... There it is. 340.570942 D07. You slot 340.570942 S04 into the gap to the right of D07. Considering you were surrounded by millions of words, it was incredible how much time you spent counting.

One of your colleagues knocks on the shelf to attract your attention, and offers you a smile.

"You're finished for the day. Have a good weekend."

You sigh with relief. "The weekend... What a wonderful word."

"Do you have any plans?"

You shake your head. "Do you?"

"I'm working," She replies. "Someone has to help the grad students find their books on the history of the cultivation of garlic."

"Really?" You laugh, careful to keep your voice low. Although the library isn't crowded, there are always at least a few students studying down in the stacks.

"Yeah. History of the cultivation of garlic. We did have something on it, but damn, I don't know how you can write a thesis on growing garlic."

You smile and shake your head. "I was seeing someone for a while, a PhD candidate from NYU. His research focus was feminist machinima and the phenomenology of the cyborg body. He was just stringing words together, and I think he didn't like that I could see that."

"God. It sounds like you dodged a bullet."

The word bullet takes you out of it for a second. You stare into space, trying to consider the word from each of its angles. Dodged a bullet. Your father hadn't. Had you?

"You okay?"

You nod. "Yeah. Just thinking about him." You're careful not to specify exactly which him you're talking about.

"Forget about him. Go home. Have fun."

"Okay," You breathe, running your hands over your jeans. "I'll see you Monday."

She nods, patting your shoulder.

After a quick stint on the M and the L, you're home. Your keys clink as you drop them into the bowl by the door, and the smooth wooden floor is cool under your socks.

There's soup on the stove, and to your delight, it's still hot.

____________________________________

Aaron is fucking horrified. He doesn't know what he's doing. He can hardly breathe, but then again, that's becoming normal for him. For the first time since the trial, he feels like a criminal. He feels like the kind of person he's usually trying to catch.

"What the fuck," He breathes, and his words leave a fog that hangs in the air for a second, as if reprimanding his language.

He presses the buzzer before he can change his mind. Number five. How long should he hold the button? He releases it quickly, not wanting to generate a buzz any longer than necessary. He notices that there's no camera in the buzzer.

"Hello?"

It's a man's voice, and Aaron thinks he must have the wrong apartment.

"Hello, sorry, is this number five-" He rattles off the address, pressing his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat.

"Yeah, that's us."

Us?

Aaron says your name into the buzzer, and tries to ignore that it's the first time he's ever said the whole thing out loud. "I'm trying to find her?"

There's some rustling, and an exchange Aaron can't quite make out.

"Who are you?" The man on the other end of the line says.

_____________________________________

You've moved to stand next to the phone so you can hear. Andrew holds the phone tenderly between your two heads.

"My name is Aaron Hotchner-"

You shake your head quickly. No. No, no, no. You've just started your new life. You're happy. You're stable. You have a therapist who's walked you through this possibility, although she told you it was incredibly unlikely.

You walk backwards until your back hits a wall, and you slide to the floor.

"No," You whisper.

"Sorry, man. She's not at this address."

__________________________________________

Aaron knows that's not true. Penelope had found water bills paid in your name for this apartment, just three weeks ago. There was no record of you moving.

"Look, I really need to get ahold of her, if there's any chance- Could I just, could you let me talk to her?"

He's pleading now, and it leaves a pit in his stomach. He's no better than a stalker.

"Aaron," You breathe.

All of the tension drops from his shoulders at that. He says your name back to you.

"Please leave. I don't know how you got this address, but-"

"Please, I need to tell you something. Haley's dead, and-"

"I'm sorry, Aaron, but that has nothing to do with me."

Your reply comes without hesitation.

No, Aaron thinks. He didn't take the time off work, fly all the way to New York in a snowstorm, just to get blown off at your doorway.

Aaron is so caught up in staring at the buzzer, this tiny box containing you, that his heart leaps when he hears the door click open, and he turns quickly on his heel, ready to pour his heart out. The words dry up on his tongue when he sees it's not you, but a man. Long-haired, shorter than Aaron. He looks like someone Sean would be friends with. Aaron thinks he probably shouldn't ask about that.

"Hey, man. Get outta here. She doesn't wanna see you."

"Who are you?"

The words pass Aaron's lips before he can catch them.

"I'm Andrew. Now fuck off before I call the cops."

"I need to see her."

"She's currently sitting on the floor crying just from hearing your name. If you'd seen her reaction, you wouldn't let yourself up there either."

Aaron notices that Andrew has left the front door open, just a crack. If he makes a break for it, he might make it through the door, up the stairs, before Andrew can catch him.

"Alright," Aaron sighs, letting his body slump. "I tried."

Andrew softens slightly. "Alright, man. Get-"

Before Hotch hears the end of Andrew's sentence, he slams the man up against the wall and pushes the main door open. He doesn't immediately see an elevator, so he sprints up the stairs, two at a time.

He yells your name when he sees the number five, and pounds his fists on the door. If he had to break all of the bones in his hands in order to get to you, he'd do it. He can hear Andrew coming up behind him, slow, disoriented.

There's no reply. An elderly woman steps out of number six and frowns at Aaron disapprovingly, then sees Andrew coming up behind him.

"Sorry, Elena," Andrew says.

"Andrew," Elena scolds, walking over to him in her slippers. "What's this?" She tilts her head to the side as she looks at his split eyebrow.

Andrew sighs as the older woman gently runs her hands over his face.

"Hotchner, get the fuck out of here," He breathes. "Elena, I'm fine. But if this guy lays his hands on me again, I want you to call the cops."

Elena's eyes widen. "Okay."

Hotch kicks the door down.

You jump at the sudden intrusion, and Andrew was telling the truth, you are sitting on the floor, your eyes glistening.

"Elena, call the police," Andrew hisses, before grabbing Aaron by the collar. "What the fuck are you doing, man? Have you lost your mind?"

Aaron easily brushes him off and squats down beside you.

"Aaron, please go. It's over. You can't just barge back into my life like this."

"Please, let's just talk. If I ever meant anything to you, please just hear me out."

You look over at Andrew. Elena has gone back into her apartment, but you can hear her on the phone.

"Fine," You breathe. "Just for a minute, and then I never want to see you again."

Andrew starts to argue, but you shake your head and get to your feet. You know that once Aaron makes his mind up about something, there's no swaying him. Your stomach twists, thinking about yourself as a mission objective.

You take a seat on the couch, and Aaron stands. It's a small apartment, and he doesn't think sitting next to you would be the right move: too intimate, too familiar. Andrew takes the spot beside you while Aaron's still thinking about it.

You pick up a paper towel from the small coffee table, and dab at Andrew's eyebrow. It doesn't look that bad. You remember one of the anatomy manuals that you'd read while the library wasn't busy, how it said that facial wounds bleed a lot because the skin is thin.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, quietly.

Andrew nods. Aaron rolls his eyes.

"Say your piece," You say, still focused on Andrew. You tip his chin from side to side, checking for any other injuries. His eyes are sharp, focused. Good.

Now that he's here, Aaron doesn't know what to say. He can't even imagine where to start.

"Haley..."

"How did she die?"

"There was an unsub, he broke into my house, he killed them."

Them? Your heart drops.

"Jack?"

Aaron nods.

Your frown deepens.

"Who's Jack?" Andrew asks.

"Long story," You sigh. "I'll tell you later."

"I'm sorry, Hotch, but what does this have to do with me?"

"She was the reason... She was the reason we couldn't stay together. I was scared, fucking terrified, that she had some evidence, something that would get me locked in prison forever-"

Andrew gently tucks your hands back at your sides so he can look at Aaron.

"I think that we have more than enough to get you locked in prison, pal. Assault, breaking and entering?"

You nod, agreeing. "I don't know what you're trying to do here, Aaron. I've moved on. I've spent years trying to forget you."

Andrew looks at you, clearly needing more information than what you've provided. Aaron's curious what you'll say first. This is my ex-lover? I defended him in court and saved him from a lifetime in prison? This is the love of my life? This is the guy I told you about?

"He killed my father."

That's not what Aaron was expecting.

"What the fuck," Andrew breathes. "Dude, you've gotta get out of here, seriously-"

You shake your head. "He was acquitted."

Andrew looks at you, confused.

Aaron is so quick to jump to your defence that he doesn't take a second to think of the implications.

"I did it," He says quickly. "She's right."

Andrew stands up and takes a deep breath, preparing to tear into Aaron. He's puffing up his chest like some kind of exotic bird, and you know that if it came down to it, he couldn't take Aaron in a fight. You're not sure how exactly Andrew came to be injured, but you don't doubt that Aaron had a hand in it.

"Andrew," You say quietly. "Calm down."

He looks at you with sympathy, but there's an uneasiness in his eyes like that of an unbroken horse.

"Respectfully, you just told me that the man who just broke into our apartment murdered your father. This is all the calm I can give you."

"Valid," You reply. "Okay, so, Aaron? What are you doing here?"

Aaron realizes his grand plan is starting to come apart at the seams. He had a speech, he had a plan, he has a second flight back to D.C. booked and ready, but he hadn't anticipated Andrew. How had Penelope missed that detail?

"NYPD, open-"

A police officer raises his hand to knock, and seeing there's no door, steps into your apartment, careful not to trip over the doorknob.

"What's going on here? We had a call from a concerned neighbor."

You look at Aaron, and then at Andrew, and then at the police officer.

"We had a break in-"

"Everything's fine-"

"I'm an FBI agent-"

The officer holds up a hand. "One at a time. Let's start with, why is your door on the ground?"

Andrew shoots a look at Aaron. The officer notices, and when Andrew turns back to the police officer, he takes in the cut on Andrew's face for the first time.

"Did someone hit you?"

"He did." Andrew points at Hotch.

"And who kicked the door in?"

"He did," Andrew repeats, repeating his gesture for good measure.

"So what's the problem?"

Andrew looks at you, encouraging you to tell the story of the last ten minutes.

"Um," You say, looking around.

"Look, if everything's fine here, there are more important things I could be doing."

You nod and apologize quickly, then see the officer out. Elena comes out of her apartment and pokes her head through your doorway.

"Everything fine, Andrew?"

"Fine, Elena, thank you."

She doesn't look convinced, but she leaves anyway.

"Will one of you please tell me what the hell is going on here?" Andrew sighs, running a hand through his long hair.

"Aaron and I used to..." You trail off, unsure how to categorize it. The case is still recent enough that Andrew could easily find news coverage online, and if you say something that contradicts your sworn statements, you don't doubt that Andrew would do anything to get Aaron in trouble.

"Date," Aaron finishes.

You shake your head, offended by his choice of words. "Not 'date'. We never went out anywhere."

"We went out for coffee-" Aaron argues.

"A fast food drive through doesn't count," You rebut.

"You wore a wedding ring for me."

"It was the ring from your marriage to your wife."

"Ex-wife," Aaron hisses.

"Widow."

Aaron looks taken aback at that. A piece of information you'd only learned a few minutes ago, and already you'd hafted it into a weapon.

Andrew holds up a hand and looks at Hotch.

"Wait, you were married?"

You nod. "Haley was his wife." You turn to Aaron. "I'm sorry. She was a lovely person."

"She wasn't," Aaron says quickly.

"Your wife died, so you came to New York to take back your old mistress?"

"She wasn't-" Aaron starts, but he's quickly interrupted.

"Mistress!" You say, louder than you meant to, astounded at his choice of words.

Andrew shakes his head, then stands up. He walks over to the spot where you keep your house keys and plucks them out of the bowl.

"I'm going for a walk. You guys, talk."

You're a moment too slow in covering your mouth and Andrew hears you laugh.

"What?"

You gesture at the keys, then at the broken-down door.

"You don't need the keys."

Andrew puts the keys back down and walks out, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. I'll pay for the door," Aaron says.

You rest your head in your hands, and like your shadow, Aaron follows your movement. He's beside you instantly, a large hand smoothing over your back.

"You know how fucked up it is that I don't even know how to explain you to Andrew?"

"How about you explain Andrew to me?"

That makes you slip Aaron's hand off your back and look at him, confounded.

"What makes you think you have the right to come literally barging back into my life, and then question me about why there's a man in it?"

"You're right, I'm sorry," Aaron breathes, leaning back.

You take a deep breath, fighting all of your instincts not to confess to Aaron that Andrew was great, but he wasn't Aaron, that nobody could ever be him.

"So why did you come here?"

"I thought maybe you'd be waiting for me."

"There's no way we could have worked out. You work with the FBI, for god's sake, you think none of your agents would figure out that you are actually dating the person that you testified under oath, that you had never really met?"

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking. The whole time that we were together, we were always thinking, planning, strategizing. For once, I just wanted to do something without having to have a battle plan behind it."

"I'm happy here," You say, quietly. "I have a stable job, and I like my coworkers, and we have a great apartment in a great location. I'm starting to make friends. I have a partner who loves me and treats me like an equal, not like..."

"A mistress."

You bite your lip. Aaron looks at you.

"What happened?"

"There was an unsub who was stalking me. He killed Haley and Jack while I was away working on a different case. It was about a year ago."

A deep frown pulls at your mouth.

"Jack was only..."

"He was about to turn four."

"Oh my god," You breathe. "Aaron, I'm so sorry."

Aaron shakes his head. "It was terrible, and I miss him so much. But while I was doing everything, going to grief counselling, planning the funerals... I just kept thinking maybe this was meant to be our second chance."

"You got a second chance. That doesn't mean I have to be a part of it."

"There's nobody else who I'd want to be a part of it."

You turn to face Aaron and take his face in your hand. He turns his face in towards your palm, closing his eyes. His eyelashes are as long and dark as ever, even now that his temples are beginning to grey.

"We could move to Rehoboth Beach. Just you and me. I could work as a lawyer, and you could..."

You shake your head. "You don't even know me. You don't know what I do for work. You don't know what I want."

"That's not fair," Aaron says, his voice taking on a darker tone. "We both know what you want."

You look into his eyes for a long moment.

"So you're trying to tell me that you chose wrong? After I gave you every opportunity to leave her?"

Aaron takes your hand from his face and places it gently back in your lap.

"If you tell me that you don't want me, I'll go. I'll go back to Washington and I'll never contact you again. I'll ask that you do the same. But if there's any part of you that wants me, that's thinking about it... Leave him. He deserves better than being your second choice for the rest of his life."

You glance at the clock on the microwave. Andrew's only been gone for five minutes, and Aaron's been back in your life for less than an hour. You shouldn't be thinking about this. You definitely shouldn't be thinking about the fact that when Andrew goes out for walks, he usually walks past Tompkins Square Park, down to the East River, and it takes him at least twenty-five minutes, which means that if you wanted to, hypothetically, you'd have enough time to-

You kiss Aaron.

He's surprised, but he wraps an arm around you, slowly, like he's not sure if he has the right to.

You press your tongue into his mouth first, flicking the tip of it over his tongue, inviting him to do the same. He takes a deep breath through his nose and pulls you closer. You fall into his lap easily, and his hand slips under your the back of your shirt.

He pulls back slightly and breathes heavily. You do too, but you don't let him stop kissing you. His lips move against yours, and then he bites your lower lip. He still knows you like it. You press down against him.

Aaron breaks the kiss first, and looks around for the door to your bedroom. You can see the moment he realizes that he's in another man's apartment. If he were to take you to the bedroom, he'd be laying you down in another man's bed.

He withdraws completely, pulling his hands from your skin carefully, like he's testing if he'll stick to you.

You look over at the front door, and see Andrew standing there. He only went as far as Tompkins.

Aaron doesn't realize that you're staring at something, someone, that you're frozen in place. He kisses your neck. You don't try to stop him, realizing that Andrew has seen more than enough already. You can't lie your way out of this one.

"Wow. Okay."

Aaron's head whips to the left so quickly that you're worried for his neck. He looks at you, lost for words.

You were going to use the kiss to make up your mind, but now that you're looking at Andrew, the soft press of Aaron's lips seems completely irrelevant. You can't do this to him. You like Andrew. He's nice. You have a good thing with him.

It's with a sudden dread that you realize, now that Andrew's seen you, he has a decision to make too, one that will make your choice for you. Just like that, you've lost all of your agency because of Aaron. Again.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Andrew..."

He shakes his head. "I'm not going to compete. If you want me, want me. I'm just saying it's got to count for something that you were alone with him for a second and-" He gestures to you and Aaron.

Aaron bristles at that, and sensing something like a competition, Andrew holds up his hands. "That's it, then."

You frown at Aaron. This is not how you anticipated tonight going.

"Aaron, get out."

Aaron looks shocked, but when you move from his lap, he stands up and walks out without arguing.

"Andrew," You sigh.

He wraps his arms around you.

"Sucks about our door, huh?"

You huff a laugh. "He'll pay for it."

_______________________________

I love you, and I'll always love the memories we have together, but it just wouldn't have worked out. Thank you for understanding. Please give me privacy and let me move on with my life.

You hesitate, and hesitate, and hesitate, then finally press send and relax into the shoulder of the man beside you. His scent is warm and familiar. He wraps an arm around you casually. When you look up into his eyes, you know that you couldn't have made any other choice. This is Aaron. Your Aaron. He smiles.

THE END

#i'm on fire #my writing #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch/reader #criminal minds #hotch #fanfic #fanfiction

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everythingsinred · 5 months

Text

Natsume is a Leftie

I am BACK with another important research post.

At the end of the day, I am a scholar and an academic and I must go out of my way to closely research and study in my field (Natsume). Today it is time, after gathering my evidence, to establish my thesis on Natsume being a leftie.

(I gathered evidence in the background of gathering evidence for ANOTHER post about Natsume being a cat, so this isn't exhaustive, just strongly suggestive. Except that I'm right. So.)

Alright we'll start with a caveat! Higuchi Tachibana is a human being and makes many mistakes while drawing (draws buttons on wrong side sometimes, drew Natsume wearing the elementary uniform when he was supposed to be wearing the middle school uniform, drew Ruka in the girl uniform, etc.) so there ARE times when Natsume is using his right hand to do things he should be using his left hand for OR that other characters who are usually right-handed are seen using their left hand.

Take this image, simultaneously an example of Natsume being a leftie but also depicting Ruka, who (as far as I can tell from other evidence) is right-handed, as left-handed too. There are inconsistencies! But I am basing this off of the overwhelming amount of evidence the manga provides.

And! While I did focus on Natsume's handedness for this post, I did periodically check other characters' eating and writing and alice use (if applicable, since not everyone's alice works like Natsume) and the above image of Ruka feels like an exception rather than a rule. Most people are righthanded and most of the characters seem righthanded.

Mikan is a rightie and Chapter 27 is full of her writing with her right hand. You can see her eating with her right hand in other chapters and primarily using her right hand in other scenes throughout the manga.

We see most characters here eating with their right hands with the exception of Natsume and Mikan, who have their hands down and aren't eating. Hotaru handles weaponry primarily with her right hand and eats with her right hand. She also uses wrenches and other tools with her right hand. Koko and Iinchou and Permy all seem like righties from what I can tell.

Dainty Ruka-pyon uses his right hand to eat! It's kinda hard to track with him, honestly. There's not a lot of instances of him writing or eating, so who's to say. He might very well be right-handed as evidenced by this evidence with his fork (and there's another one on the same page) or maybe he's left-handed as evidenced by the above writing picture with Natsume. He's usually holding an animal (typically Usagi), so it's hard to tell sometimes if he's using a certain hand because it's his dominant or because it's the hand that's not busy holding an animal. Maybe he's ambidextrous! Who knows!

Anyway! About Natsume...

Let's begin with what exactly handedness is. Wikipedia says it's "an individual's preferential use of one hand, known as the dominant hand, due to it being stronger, faster or more dextrous" with the other hand usually being less so. Thus, for complex actions that require precision and control will be carried out with the dominant hand. You'll defer to your dominant side most times and it tends to be subconscious. So for both absent movements and precision-requiring movements, you will probably default to your dominant hand. Our muscle memory and precision is usually significantly more developed in our dominant hand. Handedness is usually determined by observing the hand people use to write or eat with. This post will also feature heavily that Natsume predominantly uses his left hand to use his alice.

10% of the population is left-handed and most of society was built to cater to right-handed individuals. In Japan in particular, children are sometimes still forced to write with their right hand because of the way writing kanji works. Previously, throughout history, people have assumed that left-handedness was a sign of the devil. People have also historically correlated left-handedness with mental illness and have encouraged forcing leftie children to use their right hand (though this practice often resulted in children having self-esteem issues and speech impediments, which probably means the lefties have higher rates of mental illness because of how they've been treated rather than some innate issue).

Thus pages like this, where he's using his right hand to use the water fountain, are because they are designed for right-handed people, thus are not evidence that he's not left-handed, if that makes sense.

Alright here's the evidence for him being a leftie!

This is my most consistent evidence. Most people with alices don't have a manifested thing to keep in their hands like Natsume does to showcase this, really, so he's kinda unique in this way, but most of the time that I've been able to notice, he's primarily using his left hand to summon his fire. This is pretty consistent until we get to later chapters when his battles are much grander and he summons much larger flames that surround him rather than manifesting in one hand or the other.

I mean. This is pretty solid evidence that he's a leftie. Medusa here points out that he's specifically targeted Natsume's left hand because he caught on to the fact that Natsume has been using that hand to use his alice for most of the battle. He can use his right hand, as we see in other moments, and even on the next page of this scene, but I think his left hand is his dominant hand and thus the one he feels most comfortable using.

He even uses his left hand to make an alice stone! If you were crafting something with love and care, you'd probably use your dominant hand, right? (Or, rather... left.... hehe :P)

Honestly if this was a couple one-off times regarding his alice use, I wouldn't make anything of it, but it's so consistent, it must mean something.

But! I have more evidence than just alice use, although I think that's pretty significant.

We'll start with my weaker and more desperate evidence...

He tends to reach out with the left hand. I've noticed a slight tendency for him to turn on his left side (like in the above example with the water fountain as well as this scene with Ruka), or to lean on the left side, which is not necessarily proof but just padding for my study.

The center image in particular seems so telling to me. After the ground closes up, Natsume instantly collects himself and even seems embarrassed by how much emotion he showed, which signals that this moment was knee-jerk fear to help Mikan. He reaches out with his left hand because it's the familiar hand and it's an instinctive move.

This is the same reasoning as above. Natsume grabs this kid and gets him out of the way of danger and thus his left hand is stuck to the kid for an hour, so we consistently see him with his left hand out of commission. I think, because this was a knee-jerk and instinctive move, he reached out with the left hand again to save the kid from being crushed.

These are stretches, but humor me! The shape of the fingers suggests that's his left hand, and I either hold a book with two hands or with my dominant. It feels a little weird to hold it with my non-dominant. The next one is him feeding the animals with his left hand despite the animals being on his right. Subconsciously, people move to favor their dominant side to make things easier.

Alright, on to stronger stuff. According to the internet, what hand you use to write is pretty indicative of your handedness. We have the image with Ruka above, where we can see him writing with his left hand.

This scene is very important to me! Technically, Natsume does end up writing the answer on the chalkboard with fire using his right pointer finger, but that's because he'd already picked up the chalk with his left to write with and only drops it when he's moving past the area. He's a lazy boy too, so...

Using violence, LMAO. He hits with his left hand and... I don't know if y'all have ever thrown a punch or slapped someone, but... I mean, in my experience you prefer your dominant hand.

For such precision-oriented actions as these examples above, you'd likely use your left-hand. He does use his right hand in Chapter 9 playing dodgeball (but it's the one time he's shown actively throwing it, so IDK. Could be a fluke or a mistake.), but I'm inclined to ignore that. I don't really toss things with my non-dominant hand the way Natsume does with the cockroach, so that's probably the hand he's more comfortable with. The second image is him after he threw a ball at Tono's head, and, for max aim ability, one would use their dominant hand for that. The last one.... First, he's so cool. I've never been able to do that, dominant hand or no (I'm bad at sports), but it was always a bit easier on my right hand (dominant) than otherwise, so I think that's proof too.

Moving on...

People use their dominant hand to use eating utensils, as we saw above with other characters. These are multiple examples from across the manga where Natsume uses his left hand to use a fork or chopsticks. I will concede that in the last image where Natsume is eating a New Year's meal with chopsticks, many other characters are using their left hands despite me knowing they're right-handed, namely Hotaru. That being said, the other evidence here makes me think Natsume's left-handedness is intentional.

And here it is, my biggest proof:

(Ruka is a rightie here, and no animal in sight, so maybe this is his natural way of being... Then again, he could always be ambidextrous, like I said, though that is exceptionally rare. Then again, Ruka is exceptional, so <3)

Here, Higuchi Tachibana would have had to go out of her way to draw Natsume eating with a different hand than Aoi or Ruka. This evidence to me is SO LOUD. Not only does this further cement that Natsume is a leftie and not all other characters are, but also that it's not an accident or even a headcanon. This is proof that it was intentional on Higuchi Tachibana's part to draw him left-handed! I've always been obsessed with this page, so I was bound to catch this eventually. Yet another reason to love this panel lol.

I have stuff I couldn't fit in here because even with a 30 image limit I am tempted to go overboard, but this should be sufficient. Natsume is a leftie!

Did y'all know lefties tend to excel more in sports? They also tend to be better fighters (as we can see in the violence examples above) because they move from an unexpected side. The fact that the world is designed to favor right-handedness means lefties have an unforeseen advantage in sports and fighting because they move from a side righties don't anticipate as naturally.

But many tools, computer equipment, and even instruments are designed for easier right-handed use, which can be inconvenient or even dangerous for lefties. Thus, I didn't know how a sax would work regarding handedness (and also Natsume sucks at playing it anyway) which is why I didn't even really check out those chapters.

Anyway, handedness doesn't really affect many things in a meaningful way despite some propaganda or vague correlations saying otherwise and lefties face an often-overlooked series of disadvantages, which is why I think Natsume being a leftie is interesting, because his life is hard enough already. Oh well.

Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed reading this rambling! Natsume being left-handed is something I will not let go of. I will DIE on this hill, especially because it's pretty clearly intentional.

#gakuen alice #ga #hyuuga natsume #my meta #ga meta #of course i cant really talk abt him being a leftie without discussing why most other characters ARENT.#anyway. i hope this was a fun read. it was fun to put together #ive wanted to make this post for a while but i'd never actually gathered evidence for it before this #i figured i might as well compile my evidence #bc i always write natsume as a leftie in my fics so. its pretty important to me #this post also made me realize ruka is a bit more ambiguous w handedness so! i like the idea that he could be ambidextrous #thats so cool of him lol

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 9 months

Note

Lots of people here on tumblr claim that Robespierre was disgusted by the atrocities made by his colleagues from both the CSP and CSG, but are there official statements by him where he expresses his contempt? Also, is it true he said he wanted to end the Terror? Or is that just speculation?

For the CPS, I take the word ”atrocities” to refer to the repression carried out or sanctioned by some of Robespierre’s collegues. I would personally, like I already wrote in this post, answer ”no” to the idea that you can use such a strong word as ”disgusted” or ”horrified” to describe Robespierre’s reaction to it. The thesis that he was mainly stems from secondary sources, with the memoirs of Charlotte Robespierre and Napoleon being at the forefront, and not from Robespierre’s own words. But also like I wrote in that post, there are statements made by Robespierre that can be read as disapproval of the repression in general:

The rigor of the republican government comes from charity. Therefore, woe to those who would dare to turn against the people the terror which ought to be felt only by its enemies! Woe to those who, confusing the inevitable errors of civic conduct with the calculated errors of perfidy, or with conspirators’ criminal attempts, leave the dangerous schemer to pursue the peaceful citizen! Perish the scoundrel who ventures to abuse the sacred name of liberty, or the redoubtable arms which liberty has entrusted to him, in order to bring mourning or death into patriots’ hearts! This abuse has existed, one cannot doubt it. It has been exaggerated, no doubt, by the aristocracy. But if in all the Republic there existed only one virtuous man persecuted by the enemies of liberty, the government’s duty would be to seek him out vigorously and give him a dazzling revenge… Robespierre in a speech held February 5 1794

All the scroundels have abused the law that saved the fatherland and the French people. They pretended to ignore it was supreme justice the Convention made the order of the day, that’s to say, the duty to confuse the hypocrites, comfort the unhappy and the oppressed and fight the tyrants, they forgot these duties and made an instrument to torment the people and patriots. […] We had foreseen that one would abuse it, but at the same time we had thought that this decree (the decree of 18 floréal, that proclaimed the existence of the Supreme Being), carried out against the oppressors, would impose on public officials the duty to exercise virtue and to never step away from the obligations that tied them to the patrie: but these obligations didn’t force them to focus, with a severe inquisition, on the good citizens in order to look away from the sketches of the crimes of rascals: these rascals, who had stopped attracting their attention, are the same who oppress humanity and are the true tyrants. If the public officials had made these reflections, they would have found few guilty to punish, because the people are good and the league of villians to punish is the smallest. Robespierre at the Jacobins July 9

The principles of the orator (Robespierre) are to stop the shedding of human blood, shed by crime: the authors of the plots denounced [Fouché] aspire, on the contrary, only to immolate all the patriots and especially the National Convention, since the Committee has indicated the vices from which she must purge herself. Who are those who unceasingly distinguished the error from the crime, and who defended the misguided patriots? Aren't they the committee members? Robespierre at the Jacobins, July 11 1794

Any word against that sort of men was regarded by them as criminal, and terror was the tool they used to force patriots into silence, they threw in prison those who were brave enough to break it, and that’s the crime I hold against Fouché. Robespierre denounces and expels Fouché from the Jacobins, July 14 1794

Let us severely punish those who abuse revolutionary principles in order to hurt the citizens. Robespierre’s last speech on July 26 1794

It’s just when these statements are put next to other things Robespierre’s said and done that at least I start to question if it really is the amount of executions he’s referring to here. Not to mention Robespierre (and everyone else for that matter) always use a very strong language, to the extent that words like ”rascals” and ”scroundels” becomes code for just about ”anyone who is against me,” while ”oppressed patriots” may just refer to ”anyone who agrees with me and don’t have their way,” while any nuance in between gets lost… Regardless, statements like ”Collot d’Herbois is to be condemned because he gunned down thousands of people with grapeshot in Lyon” is not something I can find in any of the notes, speeches or interventions made by Robespierre during his last year alive. Which to me is what would have been needed in order to describe the reaction of Robespierre as ”horrified”, a person whose feelings we actually know fairly little about at all.

For the CGS it is easier to say Robespierre expressed his contempt — in his speech on 8 thermidor he openly accuses its members, and particulary its agents, of issuing wrongful arrests:

Everywhere, the acts of oppression have been multiplied in order to expand the system of terror and of calumny; impure agents lavish unjust arrests […] Amar and Jagot, having seized the policing, have more influence alone than all the members of the Committee of General Security: their power is still based on this army of clerks of which they are the bosses and the generals; it is they who are the principal architects of the system of divisiveness and slander. […] Here, one openly slanders the revolutionary institutions; there, one seeks to make them odious by excess; one torments men that are void or peaceful; one plunges each day the patriots into the dungeons, and one promotes aristocracy with all his power. […] Those who slander [the revolutionary government] and those who compromise it by acts of oppression are the same men. I will not elaborate all causes of these abuses; but I will show you a single one, which will suffice to explain you all the fatal effects: it lies in the excessive wickedness of the agents subordinated to a respectable authority constituted at your bosom. It lies in this Committee of General Security of men of which it is impossible to not search and respect the civic virtues; it is more a reason of destroying an abuse which is committed without their knowledge, and which they are the first ones to fight. In vain a fatal policy claimed to surround the agents of which I speak of a certain superstitious prestige; I cannot respect rascals; I adopt still much less this royal maxim, which is useful to harness them; the weapons of liberty must only be touched by pure hands; purify the national surveillance instead of palliating its vices. Truth is only a reef for corrupted governments; it is the support of ours. For myself, I tremble when I contemplate that the enemies of the Revolution, that the former professors of royalism, that the ex-nobles, the émigrés maybe, are suddenly made revolutionary and transformed into clerks of the Committee of General Security in order to take revenge on the friends of the patrie for the birth and of the successes of the Republic. It would be strange enough that we would have the kindness of paying the spies of London or of Vienna in order to help us to make the police of the Republic.

Here the question should perhaps instead be just how grounded in reality Robespierre is in his assessment. His statements have in part lead to a theory that the multiplied amount of executions carried out during ”the great terror” was the result of a sabotage by the CGS, who through them aimed to weaken Robespierre’s reputation (for this thesis, see for example Robespierre: a revolutionary life (2010) by Peter Mcphee, Nouvelle histoire de la Révolution française (2012) by Jean-Clément Martin and Choosing Terror (2014) by Marisa Linton. However, a study conducted in 2016 by historian Annie Jourdan concludes that there is nothing in the CGS documents to suggest said committee was trying to hasten the arrests and executions:

The Committee of General Security did not carelessly imprison people and multiply the executions. Nothing suggests it. But it took advantage of whatever came its way to "depopularize" Robespierre. […] [Robespierre’s enemies] were more inclined than others to harm Robespierre and, therefore, to intrigue and sabotage his policy. Not that they abused their power to send innocent people to death. The minutes of the Committee of General Security suggest nothing of the sort. On the contrary. They testify that suspects were regularly released and that arrests were monitored, especially if they came from Saint-Just.

Jourdan cites archived, unpublished documents (AN AFII*-254 et 255) for her claim, so there’s unfortunately no way for me to check on her sources. I’m however still more inclined to buy what she says over the other three, who cite no sources for their version of the story at all.

As for if Robespierre wanted to end ”the terror” (which I’m going to interpret as ”did he want to slow down with the executions?”), that is something that the citations above have invited a few to believe. However, given the following passage from his 8 thermidor speech, I would personally respond ”no” here as well:

The revolutionary government merits all your attention: would it be destroyed today, tomorrow liberty would be no more. It is not necessary to slander it, but to remind it of its principle, to simplify it, to decrease the innumerable crowd of its agents, above all to purge them: it is necessary to return security to the people, but not to its enemies. It’s not about impeding the justice of the people by new shapes; the penal law necessary has to have something vague, because, the present character of conspirators being dissimulation and hypocrisy, it is necessary that justice can seize them in all shapes. A single way of conspiring let unpunished would render illusory and would compromise the salvation of the fatherland. The guarantee of patriotism lies therefore neither in the slowness nor in the weakness of national justice, but in the principles and in the integrity of those who it is entrusted to, in the good faith of the government, in the frank protection which it grants to patriots, and in the energy with which it represses the aristocracy; in the public spirit, in certain moral and political institutions which, without impeding the march of justice, offer a safeguard to good citizens, and suppress the evil persons by their influence on the public opinion and on the direction of the revolutionary march and which will be proposed to you when the closest conspiracies allow the friends of liberty to breathe. […] The revolutionary government has saved the patrie; it is necessary to save the revolutionary government itself from all the reefs; it would be bad to conclude believing that it is necessary to destroy it by this alone that the enemies of the public good have paralyzed it at first, and now strive to corrupt it. This is a strange way to protect the patriots by releasing the counterrevolutionaries, and by making the rogues triumph! It is the terror of crime what makes up the security of innocence.

Not to mention that if Robespierre’s goal was to stop the terror, some of his actions taken right before the speech was held run rather contrary to it. Like I already wrote here, Robespierre is certainly not blameless for many of the executions carried out during the great terror. His last act at the CPS is, as far as I can see, when he on July 20, along with eight others signs an order for roughly 150 prisoners to appear before the Revolutionary Tribunal as soon as possible.

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