#so he has to use the original word which leads to him making sounds the average human Definitely Can't

[reallyspookynamehere]

Danny liked space, a commonly-known fact. He was, of course, to hear about all the alien civilizations that had died out, but luckily for him, many of those dead aliens became ghosts in the Infinite Realms. And when faced with the chance to learn about alien civilizationsof course he had to take it!

This leads to him infodumping to his phone about alien civilizations, their culture, and the ecosystems of the planets they once lived around and on.

And yeah, sure, he knows a strangely intimate amount, but who was gonna call him out on that? Hell, he'd post it online for all he cared! The people should know!

Looking back on it, he felt the need to emphasize he was being sarcastic, he didn't mean to post it online-

#dp x dc #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dcu #there's also not always equivalent words between languages #so he has to use the original word which leads to him making sounds the average human Definitely Can't #dc x dp

[fangswbenefits]

Comfortable

Summary: Astarion walks in on you in a rather compromising situation. Naturally, he offers to help, but then you ask him to promise you something that he was not expecting…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Fluff. Aftercare. Oral sex. Pillow humping. Innuendo. Mentions of masturbation.

Word count: 3.3k

It's a wavering sequence of whimpers that catches Astarion's attention just as he arrives at camp after a late night hunt.

The blood on non thinking creatures seldom presents itself as a decent meal, but he finds it unfair to depend exclusively on you.

The boars in the outskirts of Baldur's Gate are delectable enough to blind his hunger for a few hours – maybe a full day, if need be.

The camp seems peaceful and quiet with everyone still catching some rest after in their respective tents, and as the pale moon glows up high in the dark blue sky, he notices the dawn isn't breaking for at least a few more hours.

Maybe he can indulge in a trance to ease his mind and body after feeding, even though it's not a dire necessity.

But it seems that the night has other plans reserved for him.

His steps are light and sure, following the crescendo of sounds that seems to come from near his tent.

He would recognise that voice anywhere.

You.

As he draws near, trying to make out the origin of said whimpers, he vaguely wonders if you're having a dream.

That is the most reasonable explanation.

But then he hears what resembles a muffled groan.

A nightmare?

Instinctively, an eyebrow quirks as he approaches your tent.

And then he freezes.

Even through the obvious failed attempt at reining yourself in, he knows exactly what he heard.

His name. Muffled and barely intelligible, but his name, nonetheless.

An amused smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him that you are indeed pleasuring yourself. Risky and unexpected, but beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Cheeky…

He could simply entertain this, and leave it to you to reach your peak on your own.

Unfortunately for him, he has just fed.

And unfortunately for you, he has every intention of interrupting your solo endeavour.

His usual cool body now flooded with the warmth and vigour that make it extremely easy not to succumb to your sweet and melodic whimpers.

As such, he tugs at the strings that hold both flaps together, successfully drawing a surprised gasp from you.

“You scared me!” 

He finds you propped up on one elbow before rushing to sit and pulling a blanket to cover yourself, a mortified look splattered across your face.

The sight in front of him is enough for the recently drunk blood to rush downwards at record speed. 

Predictable, but such is the nature of his body when it comes to you.

Flustered and quickened breaths. His senses are so sharp from the recent blood intake, that he can hear your heartbeat drumming fast in your chest.

By now, he knows you well enough.

So well, that he's sure he has just interrupted your climax.

The confirmation comes in the form of a low growl of frustration.

He almost feels sorry for you, but what crosses his mind is the offer of a moment of pleasure so great only he can provide.

“You were close.”

It isn't a question and he doesn't expect an answer.

But you're so visibly irritated that you scowl deeply. “Yes! Yes, I was. Thank you so much for interrupting.”

“My pleasure,” he retorts, knowing fully well he's about to set off a bomb if he doesn't choose his words carefully.

You have a temper he adores to test. He's used to dancing to your tune and knows exactly which strings to pull to get you riled up in ways that often lead to very enjoyable outcomes.

His cock welcomes your huff of annoyance with a faint twitch.

“Why didn’t you just… wait…” you almost cry out in sheer frustration.

He lets out a taunting laugh. “What, and miss out on all of the fun, darling?”

A dramatic pout settles your lips and it takes all of his self-control not to wipe it off your face with a kiss in an instant.

“How many did you take this time?”

It is a glaring taunt.

And your mouth drops open.

Maybe he should have eased his way in, considering the current predicament.

But the way your body is all flustered and heated from your own touch is enough to flare desire inside him. And whenever desire begins to swell inside him, the fine line between reason and pleasure begins to blur. 

Mostly because he knows he was the one on your mind when you had your fingers deep inside you.

Your eyes widen slowly, and you clutch the blanket closer to your lower half, still hiding the proof of your arousal from his prying eyes.

You don't reply at first, your pride keeping you silent.

But Astarion doesn't mind. In fact, he enjoys your resistance at first. Makes it all the more enjoyable when you finally give in.

“How many, darling?”

You frown, averting your eyes.

So stubborn…

His cock adores it.

“How many?” his tone is firmer this time and you slowly meet his eyes again.

“... two.”

He clicks his tongue, crouching before you. “Oh, darling…” 

Two fingers are not nearly enough to provide the fullness and stretch that only his cock can. But he appreciates your effort nonetheless.

It's quite adorable and enough to have his cock hardening even more.

Your fingers still glisten in the faint candlelight and he feels the sudden urge to have them in his mouth. He never tires of tasting you in more ways than one.

“You do not need to hide from me,” he says tenderly, but still not moving an inch. He wants you to feel comfortable enough under his gaze. “You've bared yourself to me many times, love.”

Still, you don't let go of the fabric, a slash of defiance crossing your face. “You took too long.”

Ah. “Did you miss me?”

You bite your lip, face softening as you nod twice.

And you were so desperate for him that you just couldn't wait?

Gods.

His cock stirs even more against his trousers at the silent realisation.

“And I am here now,” he says, dropping to his knees, as a wicked smile turns his lips. “So, allow me.”

He reaches out with his hand to tug at the fabric, silently looking for your permission.

A shaky sigh parts your lips and he spots a shiver as he pulls the blanket that keeps you from him.

His eyes drop to the sweet spot between your legs and he almost regrets having interrupted you.

Almost.

Your clit is so swollen it deliciously peeks from between your folds, parting them gently. It throbs faintly as he catches your clenching a few times, wetness dripping out.

After a moment, he manages to tear his gaze away, ignoring the twitches of protest from his cock.

He finds your half-hooded eyes. “May I?”

You hesitate at first, nearly pressing your thighs together, but he stops you with both hands on your knees, a reassuring grip that has you slowly but surely loosen up under his touch.

“You don't have to…”

No, he doesn't.

But he wants to.

In fact, he thinks he needs to.

He rubs circles along your flushed skin, wanting your full attention on him before he speaks, “I appreciate the concern, darling, but I'm impossibly hard and you look incredibly delectable.”

It's more than enough to have you yearning for more, as a surprise gasp parts your lips.

You finally nod, spreading your legs and leaning back as you settle on your elbows.

He offers a sly grin, lowering and positioning himself right where he craves to be.

But not before he eases some of the growing tension on his lower half. The blood coursing through his body is more of an inconvenience for now, and he's sure, under different circumstances, he'd have better control over this.

Or maybe not.

Maybe you're just that good for him.

You jerk slightly when his mouth draws near your slick folds.

“Wait.���

And he does, his concentration slightly shaken as he promptly scans your face for any cause for alarm.

“Just… don't leave afterwards.”

Don't leave–

Astarion's lips are so close to your clit, he has to pull back slightly so he can have a proper look at you, his hardened cock still straining against his undergarments.

“What do you mean?” he asks, perplexed. 

There is hesitance in your eyes. “You tend to leave after… like you don't want to be here with me.”

That sounds like a whiplash to him, because it is not true at all.

Your words take him by surprise  and he immediately worries he may have said or done something that could be interpreted as mixed signals.

“Darling, I–”

But you immediately shake your head. “If you can stay after… I'd appreciate it. Only you want to, of course,” you quickly add. “It doesn't feel right otherwise…”

It isn't a request. Nor a plea.

It's just what feels right.

He's done this many times to the point of instinct. It comes natural to him to please others. The aftermath, though, is something that he's also used to forgoing. The mess, the sweat, the fluids… the unnecessary and forced talk…

But you are different, aren't you?

You are not… the others.

And after all you've been through, he feels his mind nearly snap in half as he realises just how much he's still holding back with you.

Even something as simple as just staying still felt… tainted.

Slowly, he nods. 

And slowly, your lips turn into a tender smile that he's grown to adore beyond comprehension.

“I'll stay.”

You heave a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Astarion counters the impromptu detour with unmatched expertise, lowering his head and admiring just how eager your body is for him.

Before he drags his tongue along your folds, he slithers his hand down to reach for the front of his trousers, hurriedly undoing them.

It's his turn to sigh in relief as his cock is set free.

But now he misses the friction and the carpeted floor of your tent feels too rough.

His eyes roam around in search of something – anything – more comfortable.

And then he's caught off guard by your offer.

“Maybe this will help.”

A pillow.

He chuckles deviously, appreciating your creativity in moments such as these. Promptly, he takes it in his hand and positions it under him, his cock welcoming the soft surface.

“I adore that mind of yours,” he says cheekily.

You are about to voice a reply, but no word comes out when his tongue hits your entrance. 

Immediately, your hips buck and his smile never wavers.

He knows what you crave, but he will take his time even if you're already close to the edge.

After all, he's addicted to his devotion to you even if he never utters it out loud. He prefers his actions speak for themselves. Words are treacherous and deceiving. Actions speak louder.

And so he indulges in you. He indulges you, because that is what keeps him from reaching the frayed ends of his mind. 

You're what grounds him these days.

And he will ground you with him.

As such, he drags the tip along your folds, collecting your wetness and he only stops once it finds your clit.

A soft moan escapes your lips and he hopes you have it in you to keep it down so as to not wake the others. 

He locks eyes with you one last time. “Are you ready, darling?”

Your hips roll twice, but he knows you're not ready. You never are for the pleasure he offers to you so passionately. 

Another roll and he knows you're growing impatient, so he gives your clit a quick swipe of his tongue before he latches.

He doesn't begin suckling hard right away, as he needs to ensure he can steady you for what's to come. Both arms loop around your thighs and he allows his eyes to flutter shut, losing himself in you.

It amazes him how your body responds to him, and your hips try to find a desperate rhythm as if you're riding his cock.

The pillow under him provides enough friction for him to roll his own hips, eager to match your tempo.

He could feel the wetness drenching the fabric, but he can't bring himself to care.

Your hand finds his curls and he growls against your clit as you tug gently, but evidently craving more.

And more he gives you.

He's sucking more fiercely this time, taking his time to savour the swell in between his teeth. From this angle, he can feel your wetness coating his chin. He can't directly feel it, but he just knows you're clenching desperately around nothing.

Maybe he should take it slower.

Maybe he should pry you open with two of his fingers, even though you're wet enough to take a third one.

But the unexpected friction caused by the pillow is begging to edge him beyond belief.

Is it from the blood he drank? Is he just so ridiculously aroused? Why is your clit so swollen this time? Is it from his incessant suckles? 

His mind turns into haze and he decides he's not looking for any logical answers.

He simply allows his hips to move on their own accord, matching the face with each suckle.

“Astarion… Gods…” 

You're fortunate his mouth is kept busy, or he'd hurl a snarky reply. Gods have no place here. The delicacies of carnal bliss are reserved for those who tread the earth.

He's the only one who'd ever worship you, and you'd worship him right back, because that's how it's meant to be.

Precum drips from his tip at an alarming rate. He's too hard. He's too aroused. His body is seeking to be inside yours.

But he decided against it.

No.

He wants to see you unravel for him and in front of him.

His eyes open once again and he takes in the sight of your body undulating. Skin all flushed and eyes read to drop close as you near the precipice.

As always, his latch is impeccable. He never lets go and takes pride in leaving you dripping for him.

A few droplets run down his chin and dangle from it, bestowing upon him the most enticing silent praise he could ask for.

He knows you're close when your fingers close around his curls, desperately rocking your hips against him.

A low growl of approval rumbles in his chest and he's starting to struggle to keep his pace.

He has to find a way to still his hips before you reach your climax in fear you'll drag him along with you far too soon.

And so he does.

This time, he wants to see it.

He wants to see you as you come for him.

He's mostly perplexed that you found a way to muffle your moans, your shirt rolled up and captured in between your teeth, granting him the privileged view of your heaving breasts and hardened nipples.

Momentarily, his hips threaten to buck driven by pure instinct.

But he manages to hold back.

And when he's sure you're too far gone, head tilting back and legs shaking ever so slightly, does he unlatch from your clit.

He pulls back enough to witness the first sets of contractions course through your body. 

Wetness drips from his chin, and he can't tear his gaze from the mesmerising way your entrance clenches rhythmically before him.

He's felt those contractions many times. He is well aware of just how vicious and relentless they can be around his cock, never failing to draw every last drop of his cum deep inside you.

Your muffled cries and the way your hips still momentarily, are all he needs to get lost in his own pleasure again.

He props himself high enough to place his hips at the right angle, rolling them urgently against the soft fabric of the pillow.

He's so close… so deliciously close.

Your taste lingers on his tongue and the vision of you still writhing under him holds his gaze almost painfully.

Your fingers ease on his curls and he feels the familiar tightening of his balls warning him that he's about to reach the point of no return. 

It comes and overtakes his body so violently his mind blanks for a brief moment, as his mouth drops open.

He wants to groan and growl and hiss, but no sound comes out.

The friction is so overwhelming, he can't help but to lose balance, his lips finding your swollen clit once again.

And just like before, he latches instinctively and you try to jerk away from him, definitely being hit with a sting of oversensitivity. 

He comes undone, suckling on you harder than ever before.

Ropes of cum spill from him rhythmically, his own contractions taking over. He can feel the fabric underneath him drench with each thrust, and he vaguely wonders how much of it he still has left in him.

Your clit is now the only thing grounding him as he rides out his climax and, in the far corner of his hazy mind, he's thankful that you eased into him once again, granting him the solace he is seeking so desperately.

There's only so much he can withstand as his senses are flooded with overwhelming pleasure, and he finds himself unlatching and almost slumping against your lower abdomen.

He's spent.

Utterly spent.

He thinks he hears a tender giggle, but maybe it's simply his mind playing tricks on him.

With effort, he hoists himself along your body, collapsing, the side of his face resting against your stomach.

He wants to say something, but he's rendered silent by the aftershock of his climax.

And that's when he feels your fingers again, raking along his scalp and through unruly curls. 

“Are you leaving?”

He says nothing.

Your fingertips work their magic along his skin and he's sure you can lull him into a trance if you so wished. 

You're too powerful and he's too in love with you to care.

“Astarion.”

Your voice is low and sweet and he hums in return, arm wrapped around your waist.

“Can we stay like this for a while?”

Who's he to deny you of it? Or himself?

He's sweaty and his cock drenched in cum and precum and you're a mess yourself. Hardly the epitome of romance.

Or maybe he's wrong because when you bring a soft piece of cloth to his temple and drag it along his face, he suddenly gets it.

He finally understands why you want him to stay.

Why it makes sense.

His eyes flutter shut as he basks in your tenderness and adoration. 

You hum a soft tune under your breath, cleaning him up.

Face and neck first.

“Can you shift higher?” you ask.

He realises your intentions and lifts his head to stare at you.

“You don't have to.”

All you do is offer him a smile. Your smile. “I want to. Allow me, lover.”

No one has ever taken care of him. No one has ever bothered to. Not until you. 

He silently does what you asked, too stunned to come up with a clever tease.

His eyes flutter shut in what comes close to embarrassment. For some reason, he feels more exposed than ever when you wrap the cloth around his cock.

“Tell me if it gets too much,” you say, your voice but a whisper.

He immediately shakes his head. “Not with you.”

A hiss parts his lips as you tenderly take care of him.

Astarion rests his head just above your breast and 

“Do you wish to talk?” he asks.

Your lips find their way through his damp curls, placing a kiss atop his head.

“Do you want to?”

He chuckles, feeling his cock soften in your hand – definitely a first. “I fear I'm too drained to do so.”

“Silence it is,” you say and he feels your warm breath against his skin.

Not just any silence.

Comfortable silence.

The rare type old romance books mention in passing and that many seek to no avail.

But he's found it because he's found you.

Masterlist

#astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion x f!reader

[chahnniesroom]

for better, for worse

pairing: lee minho x female reader

summary: an arranged marriage is anything but ideal. minho knows that when it comes to his role as a husband, he's lacking, but you haven't exactly been the perfect wife either. a phone call from you leads to a shift in priorities.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst, mention of a car accident, mentioned death of a minor character

a/n: originally this was going to be part of a longer fic, but i will never write that longer fic, so i decided to post it! the name of this fic is what inspired me to create the till death do us part collection. i hope you enjoy!

part 2 | till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Minho had never really thought that he’d be married before the age of 30. Sure, he knew that his parents would likely expect it of him, but he prioritised work far too much to have a meaningful relationship with anyone. So it’s not exactly a surprise that when his parents announce that they’ve arranged a marriage with you, Minho doesn’t suddenly become an attentive and doting partner. In fact, even a year later, he still hasn’t gotten very close to you.

Minho knows that when it comes to his role as a husband, he’s lacking, but you haven’t exactly been the perfect wife either. Behind closed doors, you seem openly resentful of this whole situation and do your best to avoid Minho altogether. 

Honestly, Minho doesn’t blame you. If he thinks about it, which he tries not to, you have it even worse off than him. You’re younger by a couple years and had been in the process of rising through the ranks of your family’s company when you’d been forced into becoming a dutiful housewife instead of an executive. 

You had tried at first, texting him good morning, staying up late to wait for him to get home from work, and making sure the staff always had fresh and healthy meals prepared. Minho feels guilty thinking of how often he had brushed you off, but he had just been promoted and a lot of the executives, your father included, were just waiting to see him make a mistake. The overwhelming pressure had led him to spend more nights than not at the office and when he did go home, his thoughts still revolved on the work he had left to do.

You haven’t done anything drastic to express your dissatisfaction yet, but it feels like it’s only a matter of time.

Tonight would be the perfect way to do so. The two of you are expected to be present for an event, one that Minho has been invited to speak at. His assistant, Jiyu, tells him that it’s the opportunity of a lifetime and stresses how important it is for everything to go according to plan.

Minho heads to the event straight from the office and isn’t surprised that you’re not there before him. Even 30 minutes after the event has officially started, he still doesn’t mind since it’s just been mingling so far, something that he knows you detest. It’s when they sit everybody down to start serving the meal that he starts getting impatient, his temper starting to make itself known.

You know that this night is important for Minho and he’s told you multiple times that he expects you to be there. He knew that you had been picked up on time since he’d even sent his personal driver, Jeonghoon, to get you and Jeonghoon had sent assurances that the two of you were on your way.

You're frustratingly convincing though, Minho has never been able to say no to you and he knows that you've charmed all the household staff as well.

He'd texted Jeonghoon once to check where you were, but hadn't gotten a reply and he just hopes that it's because traffic is bad and not because you're plotting something.

When Jiyu pesters Minho about the lack of your presence, he gives in and calls your cell phone. It rings for a while, and Minho is about to hang up when you finally answer.

“Minho!” you say, sounding delighted. Minho is instantly suspicious. “You’re calling me.”

“Where are you?” he demands coldly. “It’s late.”

“I-I tried to call,” you continue to babble. “This time, I was good, really. I remem-remembered to call Jiyu-ssi instead of your phone. She said you were busy and not to bother you. But they needed someone to come help and I couldn’t think of anyone else.”

“Y/n, are you- are you drunk?” he asks in disbelief. If he sounded cold before, his voice is absolutely frigid now. Someone happens to walk by and they look frightened by whatever expression is on his face based on the way that they scurry past while trying to avoid eye contact.

“No!” you deny vehemently, even though there’s still something odd about the tone of your voice. “I didn’t drink anything! They didn’t let me. They won’t let me do anything. They just gave me this thing and-”

“Where are you.”

“I’m at the hospital,” you say plainly.

“What?” Minho stands up from the table, uncaring of the way that everyone swivels to look at him. He had stayed quiet enough before to prevent eavesdropping, but forgets to keep his voice down reacting to your matter-of-fact response. “What happened?”

“We were driving to the hotel,” you say in a small voice. “I didn’t want to be late. I- I don’t know what happened. There was another car- they were in a rush too.” You stop to hiccup.

“Y/n-” Minho is at the entrance to the ballroom and doesn’t even wait for the staff to heave the doors open, opting to push through them himself. He knows he's making a scene, but he couldn’t care less about anybody else in the room at the moment. 

“He’s gone,” you interrupt, sounding hollow. “Jeonghoon. They couldn’t even get him out of the car. I saw it. Him. What was left. There was so much blood.”

It feels like Minho’s stomach drops right to the floor.

“Y/n-”

He can barely hear your reply, instead the rush of his pulse in his ears drowns out any other sound. He's suddenly aware of how shaky his breathing has gotten, shallow gasps that barely provide any oxygen to his lungs.

“It doesn’t feel real,” you say, subdued. “They keep saying that I was really lucky, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Are you hurt?” Minho’s almost afraid to ask.

“Oh,” you sound surprised. “Me? I- Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t worry? Never mind, just tell me what hospital you’re at. I’m on my way.” Minho has forgotten that you're particularly skilled at deflecting questions, even ones that are direct.

“What? No! You can’t leave, you have your speech-”

“Y/n,” Minho says gently. You're starting to sound panicked and since he still doesn't know what your condition is, he doesn't want you to be any more stressed than you already are. “It’s okay, I’ve already excused myself.”

“I know tonight was really important to you,” you say miserably. “I ruined it. I’m sorry. Oh I- Someone’s here, I have to go now. Don't come, please. I’m fine, really. Stay at the event.”

The call ends abruptly and Minho is left staring at his phone.

“Minho-ssi,” Jiyu hisses from beside him. Her heels clack as she tries to keep up with him. Minho's already halfway across the lobby, but he can still see into the ballroom where a number of people are still staring after him. They must think he’s gone crazy. There’s a smile on Jiyu's face, but the tone of her voice is anything but friendly. “What are you doing? They're not finished serving dinner and you have to be on stage soon.”

Minho doesn’t even bother to answer, starting to dial for a car to come pick him up before he realises, dismayed, that he’s pulled up Jeonghoon’s number. He shakes his head for a moment before calling someone else.

Jiyu grabs at his elbow, pulling him to a stop. Even through the layers of his clothes, her nails are sharp pin pricks that dig into the flesh of his arm.

“Minho-ssi, you can’t just leave!”

Minho wrenches himself from her grasp and turns to scowl at her. She stumbles back at the force of his glare for a moment before reaching out again.

“Y/n’s in the hospital,” he explains. That should be enough explanation, but it still doesn’t seem to affect her. "I have to go."

“Tonight is critical if you want to win over enough people for the contract that you’re negotiating. Don’t waste any time worrying about her. If she's at the hospital, there’s nothing that you can do to help Y/n, she’s already being taken care of,” Jiyu says coolly. “Some things are more important.” 

Minho stares at her for a long moment.

Jiyu has worked with Minho for a significant portion of his career. Her analytical and no-nonsense way of handling things is part of the reason that he’s been able to make it as far as he has. For the longest time, he had admired her ability to set aside her emotions to make logical, objective decisions.

Now he wonders if she’s just heartless.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho can see a car pull up to the doors and he makes his own decision.

“Yes," he agrees. Jiyu lets out a sigh of relief and reaches out to tug him back to the ballroom. Minho steps away to avoid her hand. "Some things- some people are more important. I didn't see that before and I won't make that mistake again. Jiyu-ssi, give everybody my apologies that I was not able to stay and then you may go home. Thank you for your service all these years, but I will not be needing you as my assistant any longer."

He doesn't look back.

part 2 | till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

#for better for worse #till death do us part collection #chahnniesroom #skz fanfic #skz angst #skz fic #skz x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x female reader #lee minho x you #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho angst #lee know angst #skz imagines #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

[hypnoneghoul]

absolution live 2017/2023

here I am with my over 1,5k word autistic ramble about the differences between absolution live from 2017 and 2023. at the end there is an audio file of both versions put together, if anyone would be interested in that. it sound very cool heh

also tags for people who showed interest in this: @forest-rot @ghuleh-recs @counting-eyerolls @ngnt-writes @ghnosis @rain-ghoul-appreciator @sister-rosemary-marie

anyway, under the cut

I will start with an analysis of instruments and players separately, one by one, and then I’ll talk about the whole thing a little bit. Also I’m using only ghoul names in there, but when I’m talking about styles and skills I obviously mean the unmasked folks.

Both in 2017 and 2023 we have Mountain on drums, which gives us a very fun comparison opportunity. In 2017 he goes heavy on the cymbals—according to the original version of the song—but it makes the whole thing a bit too crashy and too clogged. The drums are very widely mixed and set—slightly focused on the left side following the stage layout from then—but I think the cymbals could be a bit quieter in comparison to the actual drums, especially the floor tom. In general we can hear how smaller Mountain’s kit was in 2017. In 2023 the entire drum part is sharper and deeper, more bassy and it’s focused more in the middle. The way it feels to me, in 2017 the drums are the background and in 2023 they are the core. Mountain has better fills in 2023, he obviously got more comfortable just jamming in there and having fun over the years.

Dewdrop on bass in 2017; we can hear (or at least I can) that he is not a bassist. He scrapes his pick on the strings a lot which is connected to him being primarily a guitarist—it’s about the picking hand placement and angle. The bass is pretty quiet and it has overdrive on it. It helps conceal his buzzing a little bit, because it happens a fair amount for Dewdrop. Again—bass is not his main instrument. We can also hear exactly when he slams it, like we know he loves doing. In general sometimes he’s quieter and sometimes he’s louder and it’s mostly caused by his picking; how he angles his hand in certain moments and how much strength he puts into it. At the end he goes absolutely feral. Not surprising.

Rain in 2023 is amazing. He’s very skilled, and it’s a huge shame Ghost doesn’t have any songs that could really allow him to show off. He hit his cue a bit too fast at one point, but it might as well be intentional. He’s so much clearer and cleaner, both due to his skills and the settings. Rain has more drop, he most likely has his bass on a different pickup setup than Dewdrop, plus they used different basses—Rain’s with additional mods. One of those mods is a very heavy bridge—Badass Bass—and I bet we can thank that piece for the sustain and note definition in Rain’s playing. In general it flows more, fits into the whole image better. His changes in volume are controlled, not accidental like it happens for Dewdrop. Rain puts more slides, tiny additions and note changes into his live playing, it makes it a bit more lively to me. He’s put perfectly in the middle, nicely blended with the drums.

Unfortunately there isn’t much I can say about Ifrit, Dewdrop, Aether and Phantom mainly because “Absolution” isn’t really a guitar focused song and so it isn't the best song to compare guitar skills, either. The most interesting part—guitar wise—is the solo and little fills on the rhythm now and then.

Ifrit is very precise, I couldn’t hear any mistakes from him, but also the lead is surprisingly quiet in general. His palm muting is on spot, pull-offs and hammer-ons both in the chorus and the solo are very clean and he is simply a pro, he’s got super skills and I wish we could’ve gotten more (</3). He makes the whole song as lively as his stage personality, it sounds flowy but packed with emotions and still so precise it hurts.

Dewdrop’s sound is way better, though he and Ifrit are close skill wise. The difference between Hagstrom Fantomen and Fender Stratocaster is a big one, the main aspect that we can hear is the sharpness of the former and more grounded sound of the latter. Those two guitars also have a very different pickup arrangements—Dew’s strat has SSS (3x single-coils) pickups and he uses the bridge one (which is a Seymour Duncan Hot Rail), and the Fantomen’s has HH (two humbuckers that can be slip, but as far as I’m aware no ghoul used that feature), also with the bridge one used more frequently. In “Absolution” Dewdrop doesn’t add very much—as he does to some other songs—so it’s pretty much the same as the original version. There are small differences that inherently come with his style and that is what makes his version differ from both Ifrit’s and the album's, but it’s all very slight. Dew also makes a very good use of his pedals, mainly wah—especially at the end.

Aether is a bit off tempo in some parts. He plays well, mostly clean, but we can pick out some slight mistakes—mostly sounds that aren’t supposed to be there. His palm muting is a bit too light. He goes heavy on the pick which makes his part of the solo a bit sharp (especially that he’s playing the higher harmony) and square-ish. The sharpness is, again, something we can partially blame on the Fantomen. Only partially because both Ifrit and Phantom prove that it’s manageable. 

Phantom is very clean, he adds a lot of slides which is a feature of his personal style. Said style of his is very lively and fun, to me it sounds and feels like a slinky (don’t laugh at me it’s the autism). He’s more fluid both in the solo and the rest of the song than Aether, but makes one—barely noticeable—mistake in the solo where he misses a note.

Also Phantom and Dewdrop in 2023 are more in sync than Aether and Ifrit in 2017. For whatever reason.

Now keyboard; Zephyr goes absolutely ham on the keys, but it is a piano song so that’s not only understandable, but also desirable, I would say. Key’s are in the right ear with slight migration to the middle when it matters, again according to the stage layout. Their precision and speed and overall skill is insane, the ending when they go wild is the most impressive part, because the song itself doesn’t give many opportunities. If you haven’t seen a video of Zephyr playing that ending you gotta do it now because it really is insane (RIP to that Nord Stage 2 though). The synth fill before the solo in 2017 is played back, in 2023 it’s played live by Cirrus.

In 2023 Cirrus plays the main chorus keyboard part, it can be heard easily on the left side (so once again stage layout accordingly). It’s clean and precise, she’s also very skilled, but unfortunately doesn’t really show off at the end like Zephyr does. Cumulus plays some chords before the solo while Cirrus plays the synth fill.

Vocals are not my thing so I’m only going to say what most of us can hear; Terzo is very nasal, but cleaner, and sings a bit higher. Clear pronunciation, good flow. It’s closest to Tobias’ normal singing voice. Copia is even more nasal, more growly and raspy. They’re both, obviously, in the middle in case of mixing.

Backing vocals in 2017 are all play-back for obvious reasons—pretty simple, taken straight off of the album recording. It’s put on the left, but it could be more favorable in the middle. 2023 is way more spectacular thanks to—mainly—the backing vocals. They are 90% Aurora and Cumulus, with lower levels of Cirrus and barely anything of Swiss. He’s louder by the end. I’m still conflicted about the growls—if it is Swiss or Papa’s play-back—but it’s a great addition that was very mild in 2017’s play-back. The backing vocals are on the sides, accordingly to the stage layout. It all just adds more spice, I adore them.

Sound engineering and mixing is so much better in 2023. We can easily tie it to the budget (though I’d like to “blame” it on Hayden’s part in the engineering, he’s a mastermind, too). The sound is much clearer and fluid than in 2017, it highlights all the instruments perfectly at the same time. Mixing in 2017 is more blunt, it’s a bit duller and some changes in volumes and placements of instruments could—or even should—be made. It doesn’t mean 2017 sucks—far from it—it’s just a technical difference which actually warms my heart if we look at how far has Ghost come. So, once again, considering the budget in 2017 vs. 2023 it’s all understandable. Also the crowd sound control in 2023 is very fun; it makes a great use of all the yelling causing the whole song to sound warmer and fuller.

Both 2017 and 2023 are on the exact same tempo, they can be put over each other perfectly (which I did). They slide apart at the end and the break before the outro is longer in 2023. The 2023 outro itself is pretty boring in comparison to 2017, most likely because in 2023 it’s not a closing song. Below there’s both “Absolutions” over each other; 2023 in the left and 2017 in the right headphone.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #hypnone gear talks #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #ifrit ghoul #aether ghoul #phantom ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iii #zephyr ghoul

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Always & Forever

poly!mikaelsons x reader (kol, elijah, & rebekah)

summary: a slip of tongue confession leads to a world of trouble between the mikaelsons and the salvatores. but little do any of them know, it's exactly what was needed to promise a perfect future.

tags: smut, love confessions, mild exhibitionism, lingerie, blood drinking, begging, foursome (no incest), praise kink, choking, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, blowjobs, overstimulation, dirty talk, cuddling

word count: 6k

“I think my girlfriend is falling in love with my brother,” Kol says, with a look to each of the Salvatores, “but unlike you two, we’re actually quite capable of sharing women.”

Both scoff, and Stefan rolls his eyes. Damon takes a long sip of bourbon before smirking. “Prove it.”

Three days later, the brothers show up unannounced on the Mikaelsons’ porch, ready to find the proof themselves. Their conversation with Kol didn’t really end; the man just smiled and gave a wink, but didn’t offer any proof to his statement. He left the grill soon after that, too, convincing the Salvatores that he was just a cocky liar. Determined to prove their enemy wrong, they planned a surprise dinner in the other’s own house, specifically choosing a day they know you’ll be there. 

It’s a Sunday, and Klaus has been in New Orleans all weekend doing who-knows-what, leaving you alone with the other three siblings. You were originally a loyal friend of Elena’s, until she fell for Damon and you fell for Kol. Ever since then, your friendship has been in shambles and the two of you barely speak. The only reason the brothers were even talking to Kol about you is because you all ran into each other at the grill. You were playing pool with Elijah, while the younger watched from afar. Stefan and Damon approached to pester him about it, only to receive the answer they did.

Now, they were going to prove Kol wrong. They had been through this before with both Katherine and Elena. One woman cannot love both brothers; she will always pick one, and the two will become divided over it. It was only a matter of time for the jealousy to seep through, and neither brother could wait to see it happen. 

When they ring the doorbell, it’s Elijah who answers. “What may I help you with, brothers?”

Damon smirks, “we’ve decided to invite ourselves over for dinner. How does that sound?”

“And whatever has given you this idea?”

“Just a talk we had with your little brother the other day. Nothing bad, we promise.”

“Convincing,” he mutters, not at all convinced. “Well, I guess then, come in. I’ll find Kol.”

Kol isn’t hard to find. When Elijah walks into the living room, trailed by the Salvatores, he finds you and your boyfriend curled up together on the couch. Elijah clears his throat, grabbing both of your attentions. 

“Oh, look who it is - the less famous brothers,” Kol greets with an attitude. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You don’t say anything, but tense up at the sight of the two. Neither have been pleased with you lately, and their sudden appearance can’t be anything good. 

“They have come by for dinner,” Elijah supplies. “Which, luckily enough, should be ready now.”

Just as he predicts, Rebekah comes into the room, hands in oven mitts. “Did I hear the Salvatores are coming over for dinner?” She looks over to them, “oh, and they’re already here. What fun. Y/N, darling, would you please help me carry the dishes to the table?”

You nod quickly, happy to get away from the men. 

“You make your sister cook for you?” Damon grunts as you and Bekah disappear. 

“No, no, we all take turns. Kol was yesterday. I have tomorrow.”

“But sometimes none of us do and we just sip on blood all night.”

“You feed Y/N blood, too?”

“Well she’s not here every night, unfortunately. But if she is here on a sipping-night, we’ll still make her something,” Kol says sternly, not liking Damon’s tone. 

Stefan decides that now is a good time to interrupt. “So what’s Rebekah making?”

“We’ll have to see. Shall we?”

Five minutes later, the six of you are sitting around the table enjoying a steak meal, just red enough to satisfy both vampires and human. The seat you’ve chosen has you between Kol and Rebekah and across from Damon and Stefan, while Elijah, per usual in Klaus’ absence, sits at the head. You can tell he likes sitting there; the head of the table always gives the sitter a feeling of power. Dominance. Like how he dominates the conversation despite Damon’s numerous attempts to try. 

“I was just curious about your brother’s whereabouts. What exactly is he doing in New Orleans?”

“It isn’t your place to know about what he’s doing, and frankly, I don’t know every little thing he does either. I’m not his babysitter.”

“But you’ve got to know something.”

“Who am I to tell? It’s not my business, nor yours.”

“So if-”

At this point, the three of you zone out entirely. You have been pestering Kol the whole dinner, but now you’re really starting to bug him, rubbing your foot up and down his leg. The action makes him squirm in his seat, which only encourages you further, and now Rebekah’s giggling at the both of you. In return, Kol lands a hand on your thigh, squeezing it ever so often. You then poke him in the side where you know he’s ticklish.

 Little do you know, Rebekah wants to join in, but doesn’t want to cross a line with her brother. Little does she know, you want her to join just as badly. 

Meanwhile, the discussion between the others is growing intense. Damon is getting more aggressive; Elijah, more defensive; and Stefan, more anxious. 

“This conversation isn’t going anywhere,” he tries, “maybe we should-”

“Klaus goes in and out of Mystic Falls way too often. I like to know where my enemies are, so if he would just stay in one place, that’d be great. He-”

Finally, Stefan cuts his brother off completely. “What I would like to know is if Kol’s words have any truth in them.”

The room silences immediately. 

“That’s why we’re here, right, brother?”

Damon stiffens at being interrupted, but then relaxes, a smirk on his face. “Yes, actually.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Elijah cocks his head. “Kol?”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Oh sure you do? What was it? At the bar?”

“We go to the bar fairly often, Damon, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“You don’t remember? Y/N and Elijah were playing pool. You were watching, telling us what was on your heart…”

Kol raises his eyebrows before scoffing. “That.”

“Yes, that.”

“First of all, I wasn’t spilling my heart out to you two dumbasses. There was no heartfelt moment there.”

“Oh, really? I thought we were having a moment.” Damon frowns with a sad puppy dog look. Fake, of course. 

“You thought wrong then. I was only sharing an observation.”

“So? Is there any truth in what you said?”

Kol shifts uncomfortably, not liking being on the spot like this. 

“Aw, Damon, he’s shy. Let’s give him space.”

“No, hold up,” Kol stops them, “not shy about anything, I just don’t like to put my girl in situations like this.”

At the mention of you, you look up in question. 

“Well maybe you shouldn’t talk about ‘your girl’ when she’s not there to hear it.”

By now, Rebekah’s had enough, “whatever are you two daft dimbos on about? Kol would never do anything to hurt her. He loves her. Speaking of which, we all do, so you better not say anything bad.”

“Oh I bet you all do,” Damon smirks again. 

“Say what you want and be done with it,” Elijah tenses, “or get out.”

“You want to do the honors?” Damon turns to his brother.

“No, you’re good.”

“Alright.” He stands up as if he were making a speech. “Kol told us that he thinks his girlfriend over here, Miss Y/N, sweet little Y/N, is falling in love with his brother. Then he tried to tell us that you guys are good at ‘sharing women’.” The man laughs, “as someone who’s shared a woman with my brother, that never ends well. One, or all of you, are gonna be real sad when she either picks one and divides you from your family, or leaves you all and never looks back. So I say, pick your poison now, ‘cause it’s gonna happen someday.”

Damon sits back down looking very proud of himself. Kol, on the other hand, looks mortified. You, Bex, and Elijah have no idea what to do with that information. It’s dead quiet for too long. 

“Darling,” Kol finally says, “can I talk to you?”

“Of course.”

You leave the table with him, but no one picks up any conversation as you go. 

As soon as he gets to the kitchen, he runs the sink water so the vampires in the room over would have a harder time overhearing. He then puts his hands over his face and avoids eye contact with you. 

“Darling, I’m so sorry. I hadn’t meant for that to come out the way it did, nor to say it to those two, and I certainly didn’t expect for them to reiterate it straight back at you. I can’t believe I could be so stupid. I’m so sorry. I understand if you hate me for it. I-”

“Kol,” you call him for the fourth time during his rant. This time, though, you take his hands and make him look at you. “You’re not stupid.” He finally looks at you, but doesn’t reply. “And I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I subjected you to their vile jokes. Made you look like a groupie or something to my family.”

You have to stop for a second and giggle. Of course, he’s immediately confused. “Why are you laughing?”

“Did you just use the term, ‘groupie’? That’s so seventies, Kol.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“No, no, I’m just- I’m sorry. It was just funny to me.”

“What word was I supposed to use?”

You laugh again, “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, I shouldn’t have used any word, because you’re not that, but I made you look like that to those bloody idiots.”

“Kol, it’s okay. I’m not upset with you. With them, yes, for doing that in front of everyone. But only for your sake, not my own. And besides, I can live with being an original groupie.”

He nods, hearing you’re not upset, but then narrows his eyes. “Wait…”

You swallow hard. “It’s not entirely wrong. I don’t like admitting it, but I’d be lying if I said there was nothing there.” You pause, giving him time to react. He only nods for you to continue. “I know Elijah’s liked me to some extent ever since we started dating. At first, I brushed it off, but the more I’m around you all, the more I find myself starting to like it.”

Not sure how to answer the latter, he starts with the first. “To some extent? Darling, he’s in love with you.”

You half smile, “I know.” 

“But?”

“I don’t know how to say this, Kol. It’s weird.”

In one fell swoop, he picks you up and sits you on the bare counter. He stands to be in between your legs, then cups your face with his hands. “It’s alright, Y/N. Tell me.”

“I love you. There’s no doubt about it. I would die for you.”

His heart races. Sure, he’s heard those words a thousand times, but each time, his heart acts the same way. “I love you, too, darling. Nothing you could say would make me love you less.”

“Good, because I don’t want to lose you. I want to love you for eternity. But… you’re right.” You take a deep breath. “I’m also falling for your brother.” 

Kol doesn’t seem fazed by this. If anything, he seems relieved. 

“Are you okay?”

“I was afraid you were going to say you wanted him instead.”

Your eyes go wide, “no! Baby, no way. But… if it’s something you’re okay with, I wouldn’t mind being an original groupie.”

He laughs at your choice of words. “That is certainly something I am okay with. You can love whomever you like. I’m just glad you still love me, too.”

“I will always love you, Kol.”

He kisses you deeply, bringing a hand to your back to steady you. “And I love you. And like I said, I am willing to share my girl if it makes her happy. Plus, I trust my brother to keep you and your heart safe.”

You smile, then bite your lip.

“What is it?”

“One more question.”

“Hm?”

“Do you trust your sister, too?”

“You’re in love with Bex, too?”

You can only shrug. A blush rises to your cheeks. 

He shakes his head playfully. “Of course I trust my sister. Let’s say this: I trust my family with my girl and her heart.”

“Sounds good,” you peck his lips, then his nose. 

“Soooo… do you want to go back out and prove to Damon and Stefan that my family can both share and protect women better than they can?”

“Certainly,” you pop off the counter with Kol’s hands on your waist. “And I can’t wait to see the look on Bex’s and ‘Lijah’s faces when I kiss them unexpectedly.”

You little troublemaker,” he grins as he turns off the faucet, “you fit into this family perfectly.”

◇◇◇◇

A chat about the weather is the only conversation happening when you re-enter the dining room. A big sigh of relief comes from everyone when they see you. 

“I hope you’re willing to pay the water bill next month, Kol, because that was a long time to have it running.”

“Relax, brother. Y/N and I were just having a little chat.”

“Oh really?” Damon smirks, “did she slap you for what you said about her? Because that would be well deserved.”

“On the contrary, Damon,” you say, returning to your chair. Kol sits in his, though you only stand behind yours. “It actually gave us time to talk about some things that probably wouldn’t have been brought up otherwise.” As you talk, you make your way to Elijah’s side, putting your hands on his shoulders. 

“Ah, and what would that be, Miss Y/N?”

You grin, “why talk about it when I can show you?” Before Damon can answer, you trail your fingers along the man’s face to his chin, feeling the stubble along his jaw. The group sees your eyes roll back in your head, then they watch you move to stand in front of him. “Hi,” you say, blushing mad.

He mouths, ‘what are you doing?’

You’re too giddy to answer; it’d probably come out in a stutter. So, you only smile instead. Then, bending slightly, you lean forward, grabbing and pulling on his tie in the process, and kiss him passionately. His body goes limp immediately, satiated by your kiss after wanting it for so long. The fact that you have him by his tie, dominating him just a bit, doesn’t help his case. Your other hand rises back to his jaw, holding him in place. After a second, the reality of the matter kicks in and he kisses back, bringing his own hands up to your face gently. 

Seated directly behind you are Kol and Bex, half of their attention on the scene, and half on the lingerie peeking out from under your skirt. Kol knows damn well you did that on purpose, and he feels himself getting hard at the thought. As for Rebekah, she’s conflicted. She’s not sure if she’s allowed to feel the warmth in her core that you’re making her feel, or if she’s allowed to steal a glance at the black garter adorning your thighs. She tries to poke her brother to ask, but every time she moves her finger, one of the Salvatores glance over to see the younger two’s reaction. 

After about a minute, you let go of Elijah and lick your lips. You then stand up and smirk at the brothers. “What would that be, you ask? Well, it gave me a chance to tell my loving boyfriend,” you’ve made your way back to Kol now. Once you’re behind him, you turn his head toward you with a finger on his chin, then kiss him with the same intensity. “That, not only do I love him, but also that I’m falling in love with his brother, as he suspected.” Then you grin again, “but what he didn’t know, but also just learned, is that I’m also falling in love with his sister, too.” After confessing, you bend over to kiss Rebekah as you did Elijah, with your lace set partially on display for the man. His eyes catch it instantly and become locked on you. Meanwhile, Kol, in touching distance, grabs onto your thigh. His hand almost disappears under your skirt completely. The sudden feeling makes you moan into Rebekah’s mouth, causing her to grab the back of your neck and kiss you harder. 

Eventually, a cough from Stefan pulls you out of the make-out session. You stop and take your seat back, though Kol’s hand doesn’t leave your body. 

“Wow,” he comments with nothing else to say. 

Damon, of course, has a reply. “Since you’re sharing, you can give us a kiss, too,” he mocks. 

“Nu uh,” you wiggle a finger, “I’m reserved for Mikaelsons only. Plus, I don’t think your girlfriend would like that too much.”

He rolls his eyes. “Only playing.”

“So,” Stefan starts, rather awkwardly. “Dinner was great, Rebekah. Was I wrong to assume you’d be serving dessert tonight, too?”

“Not entirely,” she stands, “I did make one for us. Though it seems you’ll be the only ones eating it, for I already had mine just now.”

She’s on her way to the kitchen when you chuckle, “there’s no way that filled you up, Bex. That was just an appetizer. Trust me, dessert’s way better.” You give her a wink. 

The girl’s knees nearly give out. “Is it now?”

You’re about to answer when a squeak leaves your lips instead. Kol’s moved his hand from your thigh to having a finger on your clit. He puts the lightest bit of pressure on it, then says, “she’s right, sister. Dessert’s much better.”

Rebekah goes completely red and hurries to the kitchen to hide her face. Elijah, on the other hand, swallows hard. He’s not sure how he feels about doing something like this with the Salvatore brothers watching. He knows that Kol is, and always has been, rather wild, but this? And if he’s going to be allowed to touch and pleasure you for the first time, he doesn’t want them there. Nor should they be so honored to see your body unclothed; that should be a sight only for those chosen by you. 

Elijah’s tempted to pull Kol aside and bring up these concerns, but that would require leaving you alone with the Salvatores. That is something he’d much rather not do. Luckily, Rebekah comes back just in time. 

“For you two, who don’t get to share the beautiful Y/N,” she smirks. “Please, feel free to take it home with you so we can get on with private business here.”

Elijah relaxes at her words, but then stiffens again at Damon’s. 

“Oh no, we were promised that you could maintain a four way relationship and not fight. We are going to see this through.”

“That was never included, Damon,” Kol snaps, “all you were promised was that we could, not that you could see it. All you’re allowed to see of my girl is what she allows you to see.”

“Your girl?”

“Don’t push it. You’ve already pushed it by welcoming yourselves here anyway. And yes, she is my girl. Just because she shares her love doesn’t mean she’s not still my girl.”

“How do you feel about that?” The man nods to you. “A family of vampires sharing you?”

You giggle as Kol pulls you into his lap. “I don’t know if this has escaped you, Damon, but I gave in before either of these two did. I love them all as much as they do me.”

“Until you fall more in love with one and break the rest of their hearts.”

“I am not Katherine. I’m fully capable of loving them without hurting them. Just you see,” you challenge, a glint in your eyes. 

The brothers look to Elijah, knowing he’s been through the ringer with Katherine as well. To their dismay, he’s smiling. “The girl is right. She isn’t Katherine. She has a similar fire, yet is much more kind. Maybe if you two had been so lucky to stumble upon her first, you’d learn that not all women are like Katherine.” Before Damon can argue, he continues, “fortunately for us, and rather unfortunately for you, she’s ours.”

Stefan’s about to comment, but then he sees you smirking. The glint in your eyes, still apparent, and sharp like a dagger, as if daring him to try to convince you otherwise. At that moment, he decides it’s not even worth it to try. He turns towards his brother. “Well. Guess we have to let them figure it out on their own.”

“Guess so.”

Not long after that, the Salvatores are finally out the door, Rebekah’s pies in hand. Damon makes it very clear that if he isn’t allowed to see the action, that he is certainly taking the dessert he is allowed to have. And, he isn’t going to make any effort in returning Rebekah’s pans, either. 

“Whatever, don’t care about the pans, go away,” you say, pushing them out the door. “Bye now!” You lock it the minute they’re out. Then, you turn around to face the three vampires looking at you. “Hi.”

“Hello, darling. Quite a pickle you’ve found yourself in,” Kol smiles at you. 

Rebekah takes a step towards you. “Are you sure you can handle all three of us, love? It is a lot to handle.” She seems more like she’s challenging you into submission rather than actually asking you the question. You’ve proven you want all of them, now it’s just a matter of seeing if you can catch up. 

Your answer is on the tip of your tongue - an equally sassy reply that will tell her everything she needs to know. But then Elijah approaches you with a comment before you can say it.

“Maybe we should talk about this first. Y/N-”

“Oh, enough talking,” you walk over to him, “haven’t we been talking all night?”

His lips curl into a smile, “guess we have. Is this really what you want?”

“Yes, ‘Lijah.”

“Then you shall have it.”

You give three seconds. Three seconds to search his eyes for any hesitation. Three seconds for anyone to speak up with a counter. Nothing. Not a second after is wasted as you rise to your toes to kiss him again. He kisses back deeply, tapping your waist for you to jump. He holds you in place with strong arms, fighting everything to not push you up against the wall. He knows if he does, his siblings will protest.

The protest comes anyway. 

“Elijah, you’re stealing the girl,” Rebekah whines. 

With a sigh, he speeds you over to the nearest room and sets you down on the bed. As he catches his breath from the adrenaline, Rebekah wastes no time rushing to you and peppering you in kisses. Kol’s not far behind, laying you down the minute Bex comes up for air. Your head rests in his lap while he plays with your hair. Elijah quickly comes back into play, feeling the fabric that is the only thing separating them from seeing you wholly. You make eye contact and nod to him, and instantly, your clothes are torn from your body.

“Gorgeous,” you hear him mutter, running his hands from your stomach down your legs.

“Say,” Kol snickers, “what about this lingerie, darling? Was that on purpose?”

You bite your lip, “knew I’d get you by the end of the night. Didn’t think this would happen.” You nestle your head into him, “but I’m not complaining.”

He grins, “was a lovely surprise to a boring dinner.”

“I’ll second that,” Rebekah bounces her eyebrows at you, making you giggle. 

“Kol,” Elijah calls to his brother. 

You and the boy look up. 

“Switch places. She’s been with you, knows you best. For her first time with all three of us, let’s give her something familiar.”

The boy nods, and you’re secretly thankful for the man’s suggestion. As much as you’re loving this, it’s all very new, and something familiar is greatly appreciated.  

“Thank you,” you mutter to Elijah as he takes Kol’s spot in supporting your head. 

“Of course, baby. I love you.”

You smile, “I know. I love you, too.”

“You know? How, may I ask?”

“I’ve known since the minute I met you.”

His eyes soften from shock as everything sinks in. You knew he loved you, yet you were dating his brother. But now, they both have you, and Bex, too. Bex, who, at the moment, is giving you a hickey on the neck. 

Elijah realizes this and immediately chides, “don’t bite her, Rebekah.”

“Relax, it’s only a hickey. People do it all the time.”

You giggle, “it’s true, ‘Lijah. But I don’t mind if you bite. Kol’s fed from me.”

“He has?” The girl stops her ministrations to read your face.

“Mhm. I trust him, and eventually, he started to trust himself.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” She jokes.

“I’m right here, Bekah.”

“You’ve fed from her?” She asks again, still shocked. 

“Show her, Kol,” you smile up at him. During the last minute of your conversation with the two, he’s been teasing your entrance with his cock, making sure you’re wet enough to fit comfortably. 

He bites his lip, debating it, but can’t say no to your face. “Alright, darling. Count of three.” He lines himself up, then covers your body with his own, positioning his teeth right at your neck. “3… 2… 1.” At one, he sinks his teeth in and pushes his cock into your heat at the same time. Your eyes roll back into your head with pleasure as he begins to rock inside you, finding a pace. Kol only drinks for a few seconds before detaching, because he knows Bex will want to try too, if you’ll let her. 

“Not long enough, baby,” you say immediately. 

“Give Bekah a try,” he nods to his sister, sitting back up. 

Rebekah’s still in shock at her brother’s self control, but snaps out of it when you give her the ‘okay’. 

“‘Lijah, you too.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“I need it,” you beg. 

“She’ll beg you all night,” Kol warns. “Better to give in than deny what you know you both want.”

The argument is convincing. Elijah gives in, taking your wrist. At the same time, he and Bex bite down - her at the other side of your neck - and begin to drink. Kol slows his pace as they do, taking a minute to look into your eyes. I love you, he mouths. You mouth it back. 

Seconds later, they come off, too. Elijah wastes no time bringing his own blood to your lips, healing your wounds completely. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him. 

“Mhm, thank you, girl,” Rebekah interrupts, “you’re bloody amazing.”

Elijah returns your smile, nodding to you. 

As soon as you meet his eyes, Kol picks up his pace again until he finds the one you usually like. Though Bex beats him to rubbing your clit, so he uses both hands to hold onto your waist instead. Elijah takes to kissing you hungrily, his hands digging into your scalp. You’re so overstimulated with pleasure, yet it feels so good. 

After a bit of this, you start to pant, running out of breath.

“What do you like, baby?” Elijah asks, not wanting to tire you out with kisses. 

“Play with her boobs,” Kol suggests, “makes her crazy.”

“Does it now?”

“She’s cum just by me sucking on them at times.”

“Kol!” You whine.

“Don’t get shy now, darling! Little late for that, don’t you think?”

You shut your mouth tight as the three smirk at you. Elijah then repositions his body to sit more to your side, giving him better access to your chest. He makes sure to put a pillow under your head where he had been sitting, then wastes no time playing with your tits, holding, cupping, and squeezing them. The feeling is so good it makes you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Darling,” Kol mutters, swiping your lip and putting his finger in his mouth, “don’t hold back your pretty little sounds from them. Let them hear what I get to hear from you.” As soon as he says that, he pounds into you hard without warning. You cry out in a strangled moan before you can stop yourself. “Just like that, yes,” he praises. “Good girl.”

Bex immediately picks up on how you react to Kol’s praise and tries it for herself. “Hey, girlie, can you do that for me, pretty please?” She puts more pressure on your clit, touching you exactly how you like. 

“Awh,” you moan, “like that, keep doing that. Feels so good, Bex. I- I’m close.”

Meanwhile, Elijah’s transitioned from using hands to using his mouth to stimulate your breasts. He tugs on a nipple with his teeth while pulling the other between his fingertips. 

“Fuck, ‘Lijah. Shit. I- I-” whatever you were going to say is cut off by another moan. This spurs the man on, Bex too, and they continue at their paces. 

You then turn your attention to Kol. “Right- right there. Perfect. Close. I’m close. Kol?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Cum with me, okay? Please, please, please.” You know begging will do it instantly. Another thing that will make you both cum fast- “and here,” you point to your neck. “Please.”

“Which one?”

“Pick.”

“You pick this time.”

“Kol, I can’t.”

“Can I put them up to the challenge?”

You nod ferociously, desperate for anything. 

“Choke or bite, she wants.”

The siblings go still. Neither feel good about choking you, and they’ve already fed. 

“Kol, please,” you beg again, “I’m so close.”

“Okay, darling.” He thrusts deeper to crawl back across your body, then holds you in place by the neck as you get closer to your high. In the midst, Bex continues her pleasure on you, while Elijah keeps at his. Then, mere seconds later, you cum hard. A string of curse words that ends as a moan falls out of your mouth. Black spots cloud your vision, due to Kol’s hands on your neck, or the overstimulation, or both, you’re not sure, but you love it. You whine all the way through your orgasm, legs shaking and heart beating rapidly. Shortly after you, Kol cums too, and it takes everything in him not to collapse onto your body. After the two of you ride out your highs, everyone begins to ease up in their pleasuring. 

“Not done,” you pant, out of breath still. You crawl up a little ways on the bed to lean against the headboard and its numerous pillows.

“What do you mean, ‘not done’? Girl, I’d think you’d be tired,” Bex says, incredulous. 

You answer her by slipping your hand into her pants, feeling for her heat, and inserting a finger. You then unzip her jeans for better access, making her melt instantly. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” she whines. When you curl your fingers, she moans louder.

Once you have her where you want her, you move your other hand to the man beside you, rubbing his hard-on through his suit pants. “‘Lijah, come here.”

“You don’t have to pleasure me, baby, I’m alright.”

“Again,” Kol interrupts, “she’ll beg you all night if you don’t let her.”

You smirk up at Elijah, proving Kol’s words true. The man tries to fight it, but desire takes over him. He’s slow to pull himself out, still a bit unsure. You gesture him closer and closer until you’re able to pleasure both him and Bex at the same time. 

“I’d rather you straddle my head, ‘Lijah, so I can get you wet, and more comfortable,” you say in between breaths. The man goes red in the face. Never have you ever seen Elijah embarrassed. Neither, apparently, have his siblings. 

Bex grins, “brother! You’ve gone shy to Y/N’s dirty talk! I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t seeing it.”

You giggle, the girl egging you on now, “I promise it would be much better. Come on.”

Again, he hesitates, but ultimately gives in. You smile as he moves in front of you, not exactly straddling you, but comes at least close enough that you can take him in your mouth. Immediately, you circle your tongue over his tip, sucking slightly in certain places. He lets out a breathy moan which makes you crave him more. Soon, you find a vein on his underside that is especially sensitive, so you tease him by dragging your tongue along it, before finally taking him in full once he’s wet enough. 

When you find your pace with Elijah, you refocus your attention back to Rebekah, continuing the curling of your fingers, but also stimulating her clit. You’d love to put your tongue on her, too, but in its absence, you move your fingers inside her instead. Wetness drips from her, pooling onto the bed. Hers, thankfully. She rocks her hips against your hand, holding onto your hip for support. Little whines leave her lips, one after another.

Meanwhile, Kol’s attention is on your clit, driving you to overstimulation yet again. He flicks his tongue against it while keeping two fingers buried inside you. It’s only a matter of time before you all explode from the intense pleasure. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d probably place a bet on it. 

Not two minutes later do the second round of orgasms come, and they do in quite a domino effect. Kol blows cool air on your clit and immediately, it sends you into pleasure. You start shaking again, well beyond satiated. Bex is then triggered by your orgasm, having her own not a second after, and having it be just as intense. Her mess is made bigger, cum obvious on the sheets, and she can’t help but giggle. Bex giggling causes the same reaction out of you, to which Elijah’s final stimulation is the vibration from your mouth, and he has his own orgasm. He tries to pull out, but a shared look of eye contact comforts him, knowing you’re okay with it. Once you’ve swallowed it, you loosen your suction from his cock and allow him to pull out completely. He can’t help but to kiss you when you open your mouth to prove it’s all gone. 

As soon as you all come down from your highs, one-by-one you collapse on the bed, exhausted. Bex and Elijah are on your sides, while Kol’s between your legs, his head on your chest. 

“That was,” Elijah pauses, catching his breath.

“Perfect,” Rebekah finishes for him. 

“Quite the girl she is,” Kol says, kissing your tits. 

“Need to take care of her back,” Elijah tries to get up. 

You hold him down, though, “no, no, stay with me. We do that later. Cuddle for now.”

“Y/N-”

“No, we cuddle for now. I need that more.”

“Okay, baby. We’ve got you.” He settles back down into your side, letting out a long, peaceful sigh.

A second later, a camera snaps. 

“Who’s that?” Everyone peers an eye open, except for the one who’s guilty.

“Whoops, sorry.” Kol smirks, “going to send Damon proof that not only are we capable of sharing, but also, that we have the best bloody girlfriend in the world.” 

“You’re such a little shit,” you ruffle his hair because he’s too out of reach to kiss. “But I love you. I love all of you.”

“I love you, too, darling.”

“Me too,” Bex yawns.

“We will love you, Y/N, always and forever.”

And you all did love each other, always and forever. 

#poly!mikaelsons #poly!mikaelsons x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #rebekah mikealson x reader #tvd fanfiction #i'm not crazy about the summary #but i can promise you it's smutty

[adorethedistance]

I Love You - Trevor Zegras x Reader (18+)

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, SMUT, oral f!recieving, rough sex

Words: 1956

Summary: When Trevor accidentally lets it slip that he's in love with you, the heat of the moment confession turns into the fuck of a lifetime.

A/n: I wrote this piece in one sitting and decided to not proof it extensively lol. It's not bad tho so enjoy! Minors DNI pls pls pls

“Spiderman would not beat Captain Marvel in a fight!” I sit up to passionately declare to an amused yet startled Trevor. As I sit up to straddle his hips, he subconsciously draws his legs up to rest against my back. Trevor looks at me with gentle shock, clearly not expecting me to get so fired up about the statement he’d just made. 

I’d been laying with my head on his chest for a while as he and I talked about the wonders of growing up. Then, somehow, the topic of aspirations led to childhood, leading to superheroes, and now to hypothetical super battles. Once the initial shock wears off, Trevor’s eyes flash with stubborn delight and he pushes back.

“Spiderman would absolutely win.”

“Why?” I ask, preparing to deconstruct any argument he throws my way.

“He’s got Spidey-sense so his reflexes would be quicker.”

“Okay, that doesn’t mean shit!”

“Why not?!”

“Because Captain Marvel has actual powers and MCU spidey only has spidey-sense, which is really just mega anxiety.”

“No way!”

“You’re just mad because I’m right. JAMIE?!” I scream into the empty hallway. “Oh my god, wait, he’s not even here!” I begin wheezing laughing at my own brain fart. Trevor also begins to laugh, though it’s clear he’s laughing at both my wheeze and the embarrassing moment beforehand.

“I told you he’s out with some of the guys.”

“I forgot to ask, why didn’t you go with?”

“Because I wanted to see you,” he says as if that statement didn’t just make my heart swell a million times larger.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your choice, but you never miss guys’ day.”

“What? Yes, I do!”

“When?” At my question, Trevor pauses still trying to come up with an answer. “See?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to make more of an effort to spend time with you...”

“What? Why?”

“Because I love you!” Trevor and I both fall silent for a moment. Lips slightly parted in surprise.

“Did you just-?”

“I don’t think so-”

“You totally did!”

“Well…” He trails off again, “I do.”

Reaching forward, I extend both arms to hold his face and I lean down to kiss his lips. The kiss deepens as it lingers and I hum a happy sigh into the connection. Trevor finds our passionate rhythm and his hands that were originally resting on my waist trail down over my hips and onto my ass. I can feel him fighting a smile through the kiss, which causes me to smile. The small laughs between us are gone just as fast as they came, and I keep one hand on Trevor’s cheek while the other slips into his hair. Gripping my hand in the strands on his neck he moans softly into the kiss. 

The heat of the moment leads me to begin grinding down on him, desperate for any sort of friction that could provide release. I trace the tip of my tongue down his neck, nipping soft bits of his skin between my teeth. Trevor groans at the sensation in tandem with the movement of my hips. The sound is so erotic it makes me want to ravage him immediately. I pull off of his neck for a brief moment to mutter,

“Bedroom. Now.” And Trevor doesn’t need to be told twice. He sits up sliding one hand under my ass and the other across my back to carry me from the couch to his bedroom. I marvel at how strong he is, how effortless the motion is for him. Trevor tosses me down on his bed with ease, a lustful smirk occupying his features as he admires the sight of me between his unmade sheets. 

Before either of us can say a word, I’m tearing his sweatshirt and the soft baby tee underneath it, off of my feverish body. The choice to forego any kind of bra was purely coincidental. Or maybe I knew deep down that I needed him this bad. Regardless the action leaves us both topless, and his smirk now grows into a lustful grin. 

“Fucking hell, I’m a lucky guy,” Trevor says as he takes in the sight of my bare chest. I remain laying down but extend my hand to reach for him. Trevor takes the cue, interlacing our fingers before dropping his head to pull my right nipple into his mouth. I gasp softly as he sucks the hard bud, grazing the flesh with his teeth, causing me to moan fully. 

“Fuck.”

He puffs a small laugh of arrogance before harshly sucking a love bite into the side of my tit. He works quickly, placing a kiss on the mark once he’s finished before repeating the motion on my left side. I tangle both hands in the back of his hair. Gripping the tufts for my own expression of pleasure. My hands idly follow as he pulls off of my tits and leans up to kiss me once more. He sucks my bottom lip roughly before kissing his way down the length of my body.

The kissing ceases as he encounters the waistband of my pajama shorts. Hooking his fingers in the band he looks up, pausing for a moment to check in. I nod a fervent ‘yes’ and that’s all the encouragement he needs to yank off my shorts and my thong in one swift motion. He discards the clothing somewhere behind his body, staring down before meeting my eyes once more. He wordlessly quirks a brow. Such a fucking tease.

“Please,” I say, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. Trevor happily obliges, roughly lifting my legs. He braces himself with one hand on the underside of each of my thighs, pushing them so that my knees flank my marked breasts. His head dips lower. Licking the surface of my pussy with his wide tongue. I breathe out a pleasured sigh at the first contact. He continues licking up and down the length of my sex, lingering at the top to swirl his tongue on my clit. I moan softly at the action, causing him to swirl harder before sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth. 

“Ah, Trevor!” I whine as he continues to pleasure me. His hands drop from holding my thighs to then open me up more, momentarily pulling off of my clit. The right hand spreads my pussy apart while the left lifts from above; I shudder at the feeling of the crisp air against my exposed clit. He snickers darkly before licking the bud, causing me to cry out in pleasure.

“Oh fuck!” 

His pace quickens. The movement speeds up as I feel my high building further and further. And just as fast as he had begun, he pulls away from my core once more.

“Agh, you dick!” Trevor just laughs and fake pouts at me.

“What’s wrong?” He asks snarkily and I roll my eyes. The act is surrendered without much of a fight as Trevor unties the drawstring on his sweatpants and drops them. His boxers quickly follow; he's already the hardest he’s ever been. I sigh at the sight and then scooch further down the length of the bed. With my hips right on the edge of the mattress, he reaches down to slowly trace his tip through my slick folds. He moans at the initial contact. I can feel myself getting wetter as he does. The things this boy’s moans can do to me is humiliating.

Then, Trevor gently pushes the tip into my dripping hole. He takes a moment, allowing me to adjust to his size before pulling back out again. He fucks in and out of me with the tip until I whine out of impatience. Trevor takes the hint and without a moment to spare immediately pushes all the way inside me, bottoming out in one quick movement. I groan out a cry, relieved to feel him again, but desperately wanting more.

“Fuck me, please,” is all I have to say before he begins thrusting in and out. The pace of his thrusts are steady and wonderful. If I’d know he could fuck like this from the beginning, I wouldn’t have wasted time playing false modesty. He continues to fuck into me, moaning at the sensation in time with his thrusts. 

“Harder,” I sigh and Trevor merely smiles. He thrusts with a bit more force but I can tell he’s holding back. “It’s okay,” I say tauntingly, “You won’t break me.” Trevor seems ignited by the promise and begins to fuck harder and deeper. I loudly moan out with each thrust, reveling in the pleasure of feeling him inside me. 

I can feel  my orgasm building but before I can utter another encouragement he pulls out completely. “Wha-” I try to ask but Trevor quickly uses his impressive strength to rough flip me over. Laying face down, on my stomach, he grabs my legs and pulls me back to the edge of the bed. From where he stands, he pushes back in to fuck me harder and faster from behind. I cry out in immense pleasure and reach my right hand out behind me. Trevor interlaces our fingers and uses the position to pin that arm on my back, using that as leverage to go harder.

I could scream with how intense the pleasure is. As he continues fucking me I feel my high building once more. Trevor senses my peak through the way my pussy is clenching his dick, and he begins moaning louder at the sensation. Fucking faster and harder, he holds one hand on my back, the other on my shoulder to keep my from moving away from the end of the bed. I use my free hand to grip the fabric of his sheets in my fist. Each thrust gleaning a louder, more intense cry than before, building higher and higher.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.” I squeak as he fucks me hard. The swelling mix of his pants and moans indicate he’s also close. 

“Fuck. Me too, babygirl.” 

“Please please please please please,” I whisper as I near my high more and more. As my orgasm envelops me, I go silent reaching for the peak of my high. The intensity of my squeezing around his dick amplifies, and the added friction is enough for him to climax simultaneously. He doesn’t let up his pace, allowing the both of us to release at the same time. 

“I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming,” I whine as he twitches, jerking slightly as he finishes inside of me. The both of us finish with a symphony of moans and whines, falling into one another’s pleasure as we do.

Trevor then pulls out of me and collapses on the bed beside me. As I turn over, I feel his cum start to leak out of me but I’m too exhausted to do anything about it. When I finally muster the energy and look up at his sweating face, I smile and laugh breathlessly due to the rush of endorphins.

“Holy shit,” I say as best as I can with my dry mouth.

“That was easily the best sex we’ve ever had.”

“Agreed.” We fall silent again for a brief moment, Trevor resting his eyes in the interim. I look at his handsome face and smile as I think about how he’s completely and utterly mine. “I love you, Z.” His eyes flutter back open and he smiles sweetly. He sits up to look at me fully and say,

“I really am the luckiest guy in the world.” Trevor then leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. 

“I’ll get you a towel and then you should probably pee.”

“And they say chivalry is dead.”

#Trevor Zegras #Trevor Zegras fanfiction #Trevor Zegras fanfic #Trevor Zegras fic #Trevor Zegras smut #Trevor Zegras fluff #Trevor Zegras angst #Trevor Zegras x reader #Trevor Zegras x y/n #Trevor Zegras imagine #Trevor Zegras one shot #Trevor Zegras oneshot #Trevor Zegras blurb #Trevor Zegras drabble #Trevor Zegras writing #NHL #NHL imagine #NHL fanfiction #NHL x reader #TZ 11 #TZ 46

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Please No!

Oh this part, the amount of times it has gotten me teary eyed, a lot of this will probably be squealing so sorry about that but I am sucker for angst and this movie knows how to hit me.

Before I start crying let's go back for a bit.

The sequence of Miles seeing the future somehow hit him, and I am assuming it was him and only him since the others don't seem disoriented and were kind of behind.

However, all of them saw Miles clearly be shocked by The Spot's words, and honestly I think everyone would had been a bit intimidated after seeing the man basically tear time and space just to say how he will end you.

Gwen quickly goes for him to see that he is okay and that he can get up.

Gwen is calling his name while Hobie is clapping his hands, so I am guessing they both realizing Miles is stunned but physically okay, or as well as any of them are.

I love that Hobie tries to get Miles moving and went with Gwen to check on him, this guy just met Miles, who hasn't been exactly the friendliest to him (not that I think Hobie care, if he ever paid attention to that to begin with.) Yet he still goes and check on him, even if this hasn't been the point when he actively likes Miles.

Miles is disoriented, the world around him sounds distant and how we see from his eyes everything is a bit confusing and difficult to process.

This is probably bias talking but I love how realistic this feels, it reminds me of the times I had gotten so overwhelmed trying to make sense of words is difficult and felt like I barely have time to process what's going on.

Which makes me feel it for Miles while for him it only lasts a few seconds, DAMN I wouldn't like to be feeling that way when I am having rubble falling on me.

As soon as they start running Gwen checks to make sure Miles is following fine, we know she specifically was looking for Miles because Hobie was going in front of her and Gwen went directly to look towards the direction Miles should had been coming. Then she went a step back to grab him.

While this makes sense, considering he was the one who stunted and Gwen probably can hear Pavitr coming slinging; we can't pretend there is no more meaning behind Gwen checking on Miles constantly while going on.

Hobie went to make sure he could get up but after it is Gwen who is making sure he goes out in one piece.

She continues to grab him by the wrist while running (which btw, tip, most of the time that's a bad idea; it works in this context since Miles seems to be still disoriented,)

She tries to guide him amongst the rubble until it starts getting difficult for her too.

Still keeping an eye on him and helping to get him out.

(Sorry for the shake frame, I try 3 times to get one that looked decent and this was the best I could get.)

I couldn't get a good screenshot for it, but after Gwen helps Miles out he is the one who takes the lead getting out of it while still holding her hand.

There are other things to talk about in this sequence, but they aren't really ghostflower stuff, so it would go in their own separate post.

Let's continue to the part that still hurts even after seeing it so many times.

We all know that there was more than once reason why she did this, and let be honest here, I don't think the canon event was the primary concern.

Let me repeat that to make sure no one gets it twisted, maintaining the canon event IS STILL important for Gwen, but I don't think it was the main reason why she was worried about this, and we see it in the next scene.

Not My video, this is a link for the original.

Again I normally try to not use works (gifs, videos,) but there was no amount of screenshoots and words that would make this moment justice.

I feel my heart bleed every time I watch this scene, I can hear the desperation in Gwen's voice and all I can think is how she must be thinking about Peter; how she also lost him when rubble fell on him and she needed to move around to get his body.

I can imagine how absolutely terrifying and heartwrenching this must be for her; she said it before, Miles was her only friend after Peter, and while Hobie and other spideys are important to her, Miles is next level.

And the idea of losing someone that important to you in the same way you already lost someone else- goddammit I am getting teary eyed writing this.

This is why I said her priority was Miles while asking him to not go; because she didn't try to look on her watch or see if the canon event was still intact, I honestly thing she forgot about it until her watch warned her about it.

I could probably go on, but I would be repeating myself; anyone who says Gwen doesn't care about Miles (using what happens later in HQ as proof,) is blind in my opinion.

I had mentioned multiple times about how the masks are meant to be more expressive than what they would normally be to allow the characters to show emotion.

This normally shows by the shape and size of the eyes, but something I picked up while watching this scene again was that Gwen's eyes look really reflective in this scene (more than usual at least,) which is not something you really see in other scenes.

I think this was a way to indicate that Gwen was getting teary-eyed below her masks, which I think would make sense considering that it already sounds like she is ready to cry by her voice.

May be wishful thinking, but I think the way she says "Right" shows my point about not thinking on the canon event the moment she saw the rubble fall down.

For me it the way she says it looks like she just remember about this, and it needed to be her watch telling her in order to do so.

(By the way, we never see any scene with Hobie's watch doing this, it could had been that way because there was no point in doing so; but I wonder if, while being aware of canon events, his watch doesn't report these events because he isn't working full time with Miguel. Or maybe because Miguel doesn't trust him with that information.

I think is around this moment, that Gwen starts to question the canon events situation.

While she technically sided with Miguel later (or at best, stood aside without doing much for any side,) she sees what they just did here, how they had saved a bunch of people and got a happy ending for Pavitr, who if Miles hasn't done anything, will had probably dealt with a lot of trauma and guilt that he didn't deserve.

Sidenote, sadly Miles and Gwen aren't holding hands in this scene, the angle just gives that impression. I wish tho.

In a way, I think this shows what Gwen ultimately thinks about Miles' being an anomaly.

This entire situation is technically, an anomaly in itself, but she is looking at it in awe and shock, soaking at the image of a city that could had faced a worst tragedy hasn't them being here. She saw Gayatri hug her dad, something that wouldn't had been possible without Miles, because he was suppose to die in a event that is also suppose to kill Gwen's dad; I don't think that was something Gwen missed.

She knows Miles is an anomaly, yet she says she has always thought he was amazing.

I think she sees Miles in the same way Peter B does, yes, perhaps Miles situation was an accident, but it was ultimately good that it happened; because he himself is amazing, and he is better thanks to being an anomaly.

I see this scene, and I think of Gwen seeing Miles, while thinking "Perhaps is by being an anomaly, that you get to do the greatest things."

(Yes, I know that's a leap from speculation and into fanficfky territory, I may use that later.)

The Mumbattan scenes are interesting because we see an entire array of emotions coming from Gwen towards Miles. From being exasperated, to not wanting to give him the wrong idea about her and Hobie, to being so worry nothing else in the world matters.

There are still some things to talk about Mumbattan, but it has been mostly covered.

Thanks for reading!

#ghostflower #gwiles #gwen stacy #miles morales #pavitr prabhakar #hobie broen #atsv spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv #across the spiderverse #ghostflower files

[skania]

Let's talk about Aqua "using" Akane

So Aqua makes a very big deal about "using" Akane, but... did he actually use her at all?

I mean, he makes it quite clear that he is only keeping her close because she's useful, right?

So, what is Akane useful for, exactly?

Aqua's entire premise is that Akane understands Ai better than he does. He can't lose Akane because she may help him figure out Ai and find out who his dad is.

But we never, ever see Aqua asking Akane questions about Ai. At the contrary, most of his time with Akane is spent either on Aqua and Akane helping each other, or on Aqua talking to Akane about himself rather than about Ai.

(Spoilers for the entire manga below the cut!)

Let's take the TB arc for example, since this is the arc where Aqua and Akane interact again. What do we see?

First, Aqua helps Akane voice her concerns about the script:

Then he helps solve the disconnect between the ones in charge of the script and the original author, thus doing Akane and everyone involved a big service:

Then he helps Akane win against Kana, going as far as to agree to do emotional acting in order to accomplish it:

And then he helps Akane draw Kana out into the spotlight:

In other words: Aqua spends the entire arc working as a team with Akane. He makes no effort to use her at all.

What's more, all the occasions he had to get Akane's insight about Ai? He uses them to give Akane insight about himself instead.

Which is ironic, because we eventually find out that he even went as far as planting a GPS on her sometime after Love Now, in the off-chance Akane came in contact with the culprit. He obviously was pretty serious about making the most of Akane's deduction skills...

... but how was Akane supposed to deduce anything when Aqua never gave her any info? After all, Aqua only shares that information with Akane after he thinks his revenge is over and he has no use for her anymore.

Which means that, up to the point where Aqua temporarily drops his revenge plans, we don't actually see him using Akane at all.

Despite this, we still see Aqua going on and on about how he has "used" Akane.

So, let's take a closer look at all the ways he has "used" Akane, shall we?

• "About my father" is the simplest one, since that's what Aqua wanted to use Akane for in the first place. Except that, as we saw, things don't go quite as planned and he literally doesn't do anything to have Akane find his dad.

So yes, Aqua did intend to use Akane to find his dad, but he doesn't actually put her to use. In fact, Akane finds him all on her own by pure chance much, much later.

• "The corpse" is a very interesting one, because by Aqua's own admission, he trusted Akane's capabilities enough to think she may be able to find his corpse, and fed her information to help her achieve this.

This is indeed true, except for two things. One, when Aqua starts looking for the corpse, he actually tells Akane to stay behind. She's the one that chooses to follow after him. Aqua makes it sound like Akane finding his corpse was his goal from the get-go, but his actions are at odd with his words.

Secondly, Aqua stops looking for the corpse the moment Akane suggests it may be buried, but he still takes her to Goro's house either way.

Nothing he tells her about Goro is relevant to the search of his corpse. It's completely irrelevant, in fact. But Aqua still opens up to her, sharing everything about Goro, from his upbringing to his goals to his feelings.

Once again, his words say one thing, but his actions tell a different story. Akane is the first person Aqua has opened up to about Goro, and he does so without any ulterior motive.

Which leads me to the way Aqua has "used" Akane:

• "And many other things."

This is what Aqua means by "many other things". Ever since that day, Akane has been giving Aqua emotional support and he has come to treasure it, so much so that it "saves him little by little".

I'd even say he has come to rely on it, as his monologue later shows.

Now, you may say, but isn't receiving and giving emotional support a normal part of every relationship?

And you'd be completely right! But Aqua isn't a normal guy.

Aqua is guilt-ridden to the point he is in pain whenever he enjoys anything. Since the guilt he feels colors basically everything he sees, it permeates his relationship with Akane as well.

Instead of seeing all the good he has done for her, he just sees all the ways he ties her down.

Instead of seeing how much of himself he has shared with her, he focuses on what he has kept from her.

He is such a guilt-ridden, self-deprecating person that he even apologizes when Akane finds his corpse. As if getting murdered and not being found for 20+ years was his fault!

Akane puts it best: Aqua is always trying to carry the burden on his own, always acting like every wrong is his fault.

It's no surprise then that Aqua feels guilty over allowing himself to cherish Akane's support. It's also no surprise that he tries to paint it negatively as him "using" her, because Aqua has been trying to convince himself that his relationship with Akane is a lie.

If he repeats it enough, if he makes his every action about using Akane, then it will be easier for him to let go of her — even when that becomes the last thing he wants to do.

This all comes to a head in Chapter 98, where we see Aqua cutting ties with Akane to keep her safe. This was the perfect time to use Akane, for real this time — but "using" Akane has become a lie that he can't keep up any longer.

Akane has become too important to him. So important in fact, that leaving her side marks the moment he makes a wrong turn and gives himself into the darkness of his revenge.

TL;DR Aqua did want to use Akane, but he never gets around to it. He comes to rely on her emotional support and feels so guilty for it that he sees that as "using" her. Ironically, by the time Akane becomes the perfect "tool" for him to use in his quest for revenge, she matters too much to him and he lets her go to keep her safe. In fact, Akane only makes herself "useful" to him by pure chance! lol

#oshi no ko #aqua hoshino #akane kurokawa #kurokawa akane #aquakane #my aquakane meta #I hate hate hate the new tumblr editor #how dare it limit me to 30 images #fandom: onk #me: onk #I've played myself: I care about Aqua now #the way he continuously lies to himself is pretty engaging when you get down to it

[queenofmistresses]

adam x dom!reader where he makes a sexist, misogynistic comment about you so you have to teach him a lesson and decided to make him suck your strap and maybe he cums from it? untouched and truly pathetic

A/n thanks for the request lovely! I hope you enjoyy sorry it took a little while!

Warnings: dubious consent but only lightly - she’s quite forceful but he does agree to it. Slapping, strap sucking (obviously), adam is a dick at the start, let me know if i missed anything!!

“Look it’s just a fact, and I should know as the original dick.” He winks, “Women are naturally submissive. That’s how God made them.” I snort at his incredibly stupid logic.

“Remind me again why your first wife left you?” I sneer at him, watching as he now breaks eye contact and stutters over his words searching for a response. Ever since he came to hell he’s been acting like an entitled brat and I’ve had enough. I’ve made more entitled men than him apologise for their ignorance and Adam is not going to be an exception.

That same day Charlie treats everyone at the hotel to a night out, letting me and angel dust take the lead to take care of everyone since we know the scene a bit better than… well… all of them. Angel enlists Husks’ help in watching over Nifty and I take care of Adam. Which makes my plans a lot easier.

I have a couple shots, letting myself loosen up a little, I watch Adam do the same. I don’t drink much though, and don’t let Adam either, not wanting to be too out of it tonight. For once I let Adam flirt with me, biting my tongue and holding back the roll of my eyes as he spouts nonsense.

I start getting flirtatious back, even a little touchy, and I have to admit to myself that I am enjoying it. After a little while of back and forth I indicate towards the sex room, not waiting for an answer, and pick up my bag before walking into the room. I hear him flail behind me to keep up, almost like a puppy.

He shuts the door and before he has time to make any stupid remarks (which I can see on his even more stupid face that he’s about to) I reach into my bag and pull out my strap on, effectively stopping any movement from him. His mouth is agape for a moment but he seems to try and form some words as his mouth opens and closes periodically. “I would prefer if you’d stay silent.” I say, as calm and cooly as I can. He seems to listen because his mouth clamps shut and he nods. Maybe this would be easier than I thought. “Good.” I say.

I place my bag down, leaving just the strap on in my hands now, investigating it as if I hadn’t seen it many times before. “I’ve made a decision.” I decide to start with, barely grabbing his attention away from the silicone cock in my hand. “You need to be taught a lesson.” His head shoots up to look at me dead in the eyes, though I’m not sure whether he looks more scared or aroused. “Ever since you came here you’ve been acting like a teenage boy and treating me, and everyone else here like shit. I won’t put up with it.” I watch his throat bob and a sick pleasure courses through me. “I’ve taken it upon myself to show you how things work around here, and how things are going to work here,” I indicate towards the two of us, “from now on.”

His face looks completely flushed, and I don’t have to look for long to see how hard he is under his clothes. I scoff and walk towards him, “How does that sound whore?” I whisper cruelly up at him, watching as he nods enthusiastically without hesitation, almost as if he’s lost his own sense of self-control. “Use your words.” I say sternly.

“Please.” He breathes out pathetically, making me smirk as he shudders.

I tell him to strip himself out of all of his clothes, which he does rapidly, as I put the strap on myself. Once he stands completely naked in front of me I look at him properly. I can feel him looking at me too. “Good. Now, you are going to get onto your fucking knees and suck my strap until I decide you’ve done enough.”

I watch as he kneels down in front of me, not allowing him to break eye contact. He shuffles forwards until he’s close to me, and I see him hesitate. “Well? What are you waiting for?” His throat bobs for a moment before he moves his head forward, taking the tip into his mouth. He sucks on it gently and looks up at me, almost like he wants me approval. I roll my eyes, “You’re pathetic. Surely you know how to suck cock properly? Or should I find some other whore who knows how to actually do it?”

That seems to spur him on as his widens his mouth to take more of it, filling his mouth. Now he’s sucking my cock like he means it. Like he’s been waiting for this. Maybe he has. I smirk as he closes his eyes and brings a hand up to rub the base of the cock that he can’t fit it into his mouth. I can see that he’s rutting against the carpet as he does, “God you like this don’t you? I bet you’ve fantasised about being used as a cockwhore every day of your pathetic life.” This only makes him moan as he ruts his hips faster, chasing a release.

He tries to take my cock further down his throat but he ends up choking on it, though that doesn’t stop him. I reach my hand forward and grab by his hair, tight. “Relax your throat.” He does, staring up at me, and I slowly push his head further into my cock, watching it go further. Tears pool out of his eyes and fuck he looks amazing like this.

I reach into my pocket with my other hand and turn the camera on. As I point the camera towards him and press record, I see his hips get faster and rougher as he looks straight at the camera. “You are going to make the best fucktoy Adam sweetie. So fucking easy, just begging to be used by me.” His eyes roll back as he desperately tries to keep sucking on my cock as his hips stutter and I can see that he’s finished.

I keep recording as I slide my cock out of his throat and kneel down to be eye level with him. He’s panting but he still meets my eyes. I bring my hand up to hold his chin gently before I let go to bring my hand to slap his cheek. Hard. “Next time, you fucking ask before you cum. You’re worthless and if you can’t even control yourself then I have no use for you.” I practically growl out at him.

“Y-yes miss.” He stutters out just barely. I stroke his cheek softly and smile at him.

“See isn’t this so much better? I much prefer you like this, and I bet all our friends back at the hotel will too.” He nods at me, his mouth gaped open as I run my hands through his hair. “Good boy.”

#adam x reader #adam smut #hazbin hotel adam #sub!adam x reader #hazbin adam

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Personal Heater

Summary: Spencer has no heat in his apartment, but that doesn’t stop Reader from spending the night.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: fluff

Word count: 858

You are so stubborn. Stubborn to the point that Spencer finally caved and let you spend the night at his place, despite constantly telling you the heat is out. It took two weeks and several weather reports including wind mileage and humidity percentages, but you broke him. Now you’re in his bathroom, spitting your toothpaste and mouthwash concoction into his rickety sink. And it was your sharp, minty inhale that put the stamp of regret on the night.

Out of all potential points of convincing you to wait, he failed to mention that he lived in a building originally constructed in the early 1900s; when insulation wasn’t even a thought.

Your feet are freezing under the tile, and you’re convinced if you put enough force behind it, you can land in Spencer’s bed with one jump. Moving as minimally as possible sounds ideal because your legs feel as mobile as frozen pipes. But a screw-up will lead to you hitting the floor in the darkness, alerting your boyfriend in the living room, and — worst of all — you’ll have to admit he was right.

So instead, you lumber out of the bathroom, sliding your feet across the floor to navigate any potential hazards. The floor creaks with your weight. Once in the clear, you, quite literally, hop into bed. Spencer was still focused on some work at his desk, but he promised he wouldn’t be long since he was already in his robe. You took advantage of the time to gather the comforter and the extra blanket he’s been using. Then you grab some others folded neatly on a nearby chair (that you may or may not have fished out of his closet) and let them all fall on top of you. The warmth creeps in if you stay still and prevent drafts, but your feet instinctively rub together like they were sticks and you needed a fire. It’s the only movement you allow as you try to zone out enough to fall asleep, apart from the occasional kick to yourself for not being patient.

The benefit of being in an old building is that doors creak too. So Spencer coming in to call it a night is not subtle at all. He turns on the lamp on his side, and it’s the first time you’ve dreaded hearing him chuckle. “Well, well, well,” his tone is infuriating, “I see you found the extra blankets.”

You keep your eyes closed and hope for the best.

“I heard the floors creaking three minutes and 42 seconds ago, hun. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Dammit. You use your bitterness to turn on your right side, making sure to keep your body encased under the small mound of various cozy materials.

Spencer’s robe is tied: boring, plaid, and brown. But it gives him a secure layer over his fun pajamas, the light blue ones with cloud patterns, also known as the ones you got him. His hair is adorably messy and his lips purse into an annoyingly cute smile. “Anything you want to say to me?”

“Yes, actually,” You prop yourself up on your elbow and look him in the eye as you ask “How the hell does someone who grew up in Vegas tolerate freezing temperatures indoors in early spring?”

“Well, robes help, but it’s also not freezing,” He corrects. “It’s 43.4 degrees outside, which means it’s…” He feels the air for reference because it matters to him. “About 58.2 degrees in here right now considering what floor we’re on and —”

“If I admit you were right, will you please come to bed?” You fall back onto your pillow and pat his, utterly defeated. 

He doesn’t hesitate to switch off the lamp. Spencer climbs in and nestles under the comforter. “No need, I already know.”

You wish you had a snappy response to that, but Spencer’s hands are already distracting you by navigating blindly under the comforter. You take the hint and push yourself closer to him. When your bodies meet, he pulls your leg up so you can be just a little closer. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and your fingers end just above the back of his neck. You play with the hair you can reach and he finally kisses you. It’s sweet and slow, with no urge to prove a point. “Your nose is so cold.” You tell him.

“So is yours.” He replies, rubbing them together. He kisses the bridge of yours.

“I’m warming up though.” Slowly but surely. You try to keep your icy toes away from his to avoid ruining the moment.

“Good. Me too.” The hand keeping your leg steady slid up your back, finding a comfortable place to rest. “Seriously though, do you think you’ll be able to sleep tonight?”

“Yes.” You nod for extra assurance.

“Okay,” He rubs your back. “Wake me up if you can’t.” He gives you another precious kiss.

You want to say you’ll be fine, but you don’t feel like risking being wrong twice in 24 hours. So you plant a kiss on his forehead, and that’s good enough for him.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom

[lovelydork505]

Platonic yandere! Uncle Iroh x reader

(tw: yandere, dark fiction, implied obsessive behaviour, mentions of manipulation)

This is just a concept, I actually haven't thought about it much this is basically just a word vomit.

No matter how you two meet, I feel like it's no surprise that he's not overbearing.

In fact, compared to ozai, he is pretty nice and reader probably won't even notice the rise of his tendencies as a yandere.

Uncle Iroh chooses and values humility over pride so he's pretty chill. He is wise and takes great joy if he manages to get reader to laugh with one of his jokes.

If you aren't a part of the royal family, maybe you originally meet him at a tea shop you frequent or work at.

How long he knows of you will also depend if you are from the fire nation or Ba sing se

His fixation probably starts if you reminded him on anyway shape or form of his deceased son. Even as wise as he is, Uncle Iroh is not imune to grief and it's sorrowful claws, which sometimes leads to some irrational paranoia (not that reader or anyone else is aware).

With that, he wishes to be by your side no matter what, it's enough to just bask in your presence and to know reader is safe and sound at all times.

I see him carrying something you own with him 24/7, so if your favourite necklace is suddenly missing don't worry to much about it. Oh? You're sad about it? He'll buy you another one so you'll always have with you something to remind you of him

He's actually really sweet period

Even though he's just an old man, don't let looks deceive you, he is pretty powerful, a general and brother of the Fire Lord Ozai, when it comes to you and your safety, if it's necessary he won't hesitate to use any of his titles, although he prefers peace over battle.

Teaches you a lot os things like how to brew tea property. Loves to make you tea and other blends

If you don't know how, he'll also teach you how to play pai sho

As we all know, he is great at giving advice when you come to him with your problems, he loves listening to you. If reader has any activities they enjoy he'll absolutely insist to participate.

Best emotional support and company, you'll find it easy to talk to him about anything and everything, and in the middle of your excited rambles you won't even realize the amount of personal questions you've answered and the kind man who is mentally memorising it all, drinking it like the golden liquid of the gods

He tells you stories of his time as a general, tales of the spirit world and shares his knowledge of culture from other nations.

He doesn't care if you can bend or not, you being you is enough.

His yandere side doesn't really shine through that much, he lets you have all the freedom you want but you'll come to notice that he's always near, seemingly afraid to stray too far.

Like a father, he praises you for everything not just because of his tendencies but because he's genuinely proud of you.

Even if he doesn't like it, he'll subtly manipulate you to stay with him or to not leave permanently without him for another path of life .

Of course, that's just the tip of the iceberg, once reader ceases to be oblivious of their situation some things are bound to change.

#yandere #yancore #yandere x you #yandere x reader #platonic #platonic yandere #uncle iroh #ATLA #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender series #drabbles #platonic yandere x reader #soft yandere #more than soft yandere #uncle iroh atla #implied obsessive behaviour #x reader #nice yandere #oblivious reader #concep work #my writing #uncle Iroh x reader #platonic uncle Iroh x reader

[just-some-random-blogger]

You Were Meant To Be Mine

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Having decided he hated you when you were children for seemingly no reason, as you grew older, you made reasons for the Targaryen prince to repel you, which made for the most uncomfortable of atmospheres. Now that you were of age and seemingly so keen to be betrothed, your archnemesis makes it his mission to ruin your plans.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Fem reader, you have brothers who have names ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, enemies to lovers themes, fluff, a bit violent, insufferable!Daemon, typos etc.

A/N: This is inspired by this prompt and a bit by the song from Heathers 'meant to be yours' and it honestly came out flufflier than expected. I made a fake house ok i literally just used the icelandic translation of star T_T

also I MADE AN ENTIRELY SEPARATE 10k daemon fic... do you wanna see?

psa: i did some edits on this since posting it

"Congratu-fucking-lations," I slur, feeling my entire face heat up as I smile. The lady Gemma, who I was greeting, turns about, looking for whom spoke to her, yet finding that I was crouched down, flailing my head and arms for sport.

She makes a face, "Lady Stjarna?"

I still in my actions, then perk up, shaking my head, breaking into another smile, "yes?" I inquire, then break into a laugh, "oh yes," I clap my hands together when I remember why I was standing in front of the bride, "My Lady Gemma, I am so pleased that you have finally found a match. You and your lord husband will surely-" I hiccup and slightly burp, "- make an army of beautiful children."

Gemma, my childhood friend, who had not regarded me in the longest of time and only came to invite me last minute because one of my brothers got promoted again, made a disturbed face with wide eyes, "where is your brother?"

"Why?" I pull an annoyed pout, "do you fancy him still?"

Gemma, who was standing right next to her sister-in-law, Carolina, who was too my childhood friend, but decided along the way she also did not like me, begins to twitch.

I sigh, grabbing the cup from Carolina's hand, downing its contents. Once my mouth is empty, I hand the cup back to its original owner, "glad am I that neither my older brothers, Johann nor Gunnar, not even our youngest, Ari, found any interest in you at all."

I hear the sound of the devil's muffled laughter in my head.

"You insolent wench," Carolina mutters under her breath, thinking it was soft enough for only her and her new sister to hear.

I smile wickedly, "may your womb be bountiful and may your house prosper." With a final curtsy, I turn about and walk away.

I manage to walk far enough to catch sight of the banquet table. Before I could pour myself a glass of wine again, quickly, a hand swoops in, pulling me by my shoulder, and I am faced with a face that makes my day more bothersome than it already is. It is my youngest brother, Ari, brows curled in concern. With his free hand, he takes mine as he leads me into a dance against my own will. He jests too strongly, too early, "and you wonder why so many detest your effervescent aura, sister."

I give him a pinched look as I stomp my heel in front of me in an attempt to crush his foot. Being too used to it, he quickly pulls his leg away and clicks his tongue, pulling me close to push me back into a twirl, "you have drank too much, too early."

Once I am before the young lad again, I give him a look, "when has that stopped father?"

He sighs, "you are not father, you are you, a Lady of the house Stjarna."

"I'm trying hard not to be," I grumble, beginning to circle around my brother in continuance of the dance, "as is father, Johann, Gunnar, our cousins, even our servants!" I look off in the distance as I speak, looking for the face of my father, feeling my heart skip a beat when I see him and our eldest brother Johann, conversing with the Lannisters.

Once I am in front of Ari again, my face is beaming, and it causes him greater concern.

"Father talking to the Lannisters," I tell him breathlessly, "they could be talking about my marriage prospects."

Ari's forehead tenses even more, lips curving into a frown, "does that notion truly bring you joy?"

I roll my eyes at him as we press our hands together to the beat of the music, "it does. As it should you! An alliance with house Lannister will mean you can rise in the ranks quickly to join our older brothers."

Ari is visibly troubled by this.

I clench my jaw at his expression and halt in my movements. I decide our dance is over, promptly pulling him aside. Once we are alone far enough from the dance floor, I mumble to him, "you will not understand until you are in the crosshairs of fate and you've had to raise your younger brother because your mother was killed in the cloak of night."

Ari grips my arm as we make it to the side of the room, "and I am grateful for it, for everything you and everyone has done for me! But I am not a child anymore, and I do not wish to see you wed a scoundrel for my benefit," he whines, voice growing softer but more frustrated with every word.

"That scoundrel of which you speak, is the richest man here," I mutter under my breath, "and it would do you good to-"

"Conspiring again, are we?"

The unmistakable voice rings in my ear, and though my younger brother hastily turns to whom spoke, quickly greeting him with a bow and, "your grace," I forfeit the pleasantries and keep my eyes fixed on my brother.

Once Ari is facing me again, I place a hand on his shoulder and give him a half sympathetic look, "there is nothing in the world I would not do for you, for our family. My heart beats only for the glory and survival of our house."

"But you don't-"

"And I am doing this precisely so that you would not have to sacrifice your own dreams for the same thing," I give him a pointed look and place both my hands on his cheeks, "do you understand, Ari?"

My brother averts his gaze, unable to meet mine. I release him and gently nudge him back, "now go dance and make merry. It is your privilege."

Ari sighs, bowing his head in acceptance. He then turns to the side, bidding farewell again to the man who had been standing there for gods-know-what, "my prince."

I watch as Ari fades into the crowd, still unwilling to look the said prince beside me in the eye, lest I hurl out my insides.

"What dutiful sister you are. I bet many bachelors are even willing to slay a dragon for your hand."

I let out a prolonged hum in a failed attempt to calm myself down, "why would they need to fight a dragon, pray tell, when I have nothing to do with them?"

I finally look at him, Prince Daemon, with his long silver-white hair, violet eyes, and ghastly annoying curved lips. I respond to his smirk with a stoic look and move to walk past him. He, however, in his good old fashioned pettiness, speaks in a volume too loud, "will you not even greet your prince?" practically forcing me to stop, lest I give these wenches more reason to whisper about me.

I turn about with not a hitch and curtsy, dramatically, impossibly low, and I even flash the realest fake smile I reserve especially for fuckers like him, "my beloved Prince Daemon."

The Demon is pleased by this and by how many people are watching in this moment.

I rise after a good moment passed, knowing by then a lot less eyes were onlooking. I step forward, looking up at the idiot, thinking of exactly what will wipe that smirk off his face, "heir to the iron-- oh," I look away, pretending to think, "apologies, what were you heir of again?"

Daemon eyes darken and yet he does not forfeit a laugh. He masks his annoyance in this, but I know him too well to miss how his jaw clenches. It is finally then that I turn away from him and head outside the blasted banquet hall.

I silently pass a few servants of the house and bring myself outside the building. I make my way to the gardens of the estate, surprising even myself with how I still knew place well even after the years that have passed since I last visited.

My mind begins to spiral, in thoughts most uninvited, like, why Lady Gemma, and the rest of whom I believed to be my friends, began to simply stop thinking of me as such.

I wonder if it was when I became motherless and began to prioritize teaching my baby brother at the age of 11. I sigh, wrapping my arms around myself at the thought. No matter how much I try to understand, I just don't. What changed in me that made them turn away?

Through my deep thought, I was still very much aware of my surroundings. It doesn't take long for me to feel the presence that was lingering behind me, the persistent thorn to my side that just refused to be plucked off. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was by my heels, and yet I do. I throw my skirt around me and glare knowingly at the prince who was a mere few steps away from me, "must you persist even now when no one is looking?"

"It is most exhilarating to hunt in the intimacy of an empty forest, knowing no one can interfere no matter the outcome." Daemon did not cease in his steps as he said this, and continued walking towards me, up until there was nowhere to step, and yet he pressed closer still.

I knit my brows tightly at his attempt to push me back and I place my hands on his arms forcing him the other way.

"You're supposed to step back if a man does this to you," he states.

"I will step back for no man," I grunt, successfully shoving him off me, not having moved an inch from where I stood.

Daemon reels back, only slightly, but it matters not, for he was still pushed away. He chuckles at this and tilts his head, "your strength is impressive. You have not wavered since we were children."

I roll my eyes and turn from him, continuing my walk.

The insolent Targaryen invites himself to walk to my right. I know it is pointless to argue with him about it, so I decide to ignore him instead.

"I hear you were invited to the Strong's estate recently."

I do not waste my breath with a response.

"And yet I saw your father and your brother with Jason Lannister moments before I saw your horrid face."

Daemon is not granted the satisfaction of a reply, which is why he resorts to saying, "you must have been too overbearing with your new match that your father had to quickly look for a newer one."

I am unaffected by his words, but I still choose to turn over to him, "my father is not nearly as quick about me as you are, however."

He smirks at that, placing his hands behind his back, "if I didn't know any better, you sound like you think I care for you."

"Well, obviously you do," I snap at him, "or else you would not be accompanying me in this dark deserted garden, warning me to back away if men decide to lay their hands on me."

Daemon makes a face, "you should not allow any man's hand upon you," he quips.

"None but you?!" I blurt, stopping beside him, then stomping over, "I am so sick of your arrogance! I even decided to be the bigger person between us, and yet you persist on sabotaging me, to make spectacle of my existence and force my suitors away."

For a moment, Daemon basks in the fire, absolutely in awe of it.

My rage is continuously fueled by his entertained expression, "I know for certain it was you who injured Sir Armand on his travel to our estate, and you who sabotaged the travels of house Frey to our region."

I half expect him to egg me on, to feign ignorance, and yet he says nothing.

"I don't understand what sick sense of fulfillment you earn from this, but you need to stop it and focus on destroying your own prospects."

The sound of his laugh enrages me even more, "you should be pleased I've done you a favor of allowing better suitors to come forward, or else you would have readily settled for a pig with but an acre of land."

I shudder, hands balling into fists, "so you don't even deny further, you insolent twat!"

"My detest for you was never a secret to start, my sweetheart" he breathes out hotly, a dragon baring its teeth, face uncomfortably near mine.

"You stupid fucker!" I blurt, managing to land a slap on his face and a hit on his chest before he finally caught my flailing arms and growled at me in warning. I am not intimidated in the slightest, not even with his nose nearly brushing mine, not even when both our hot breath was hitting each other's skin.

Though I am perfectly aware I am no match for his strength, considering how I am basically locked in place under his tight grip, I refuse to relent. He could kill me if he wanted, I honestly wouldn't care, for then, at least, I would not have to deal with him any further.

This is why I shout right at him without a second's thought, "I'VE ABOUT HAD IT WITH YOUR TOMFOOLERY!" I wrangle in his grips in an attempt to break free, "I would curse you never to marry and die an old lonely man, but I'm sure you would want that," my chest begins to tighten, "for there is no shame in you choosing to die a bachelor, yet it is a mortal sin of mine to even breathe the air my age without baring children!"

My face begins to crack out of anger and tears begin to build in the corner of my eyes the more I speak, "I am a shame to my house," I bark, as Daemon's grip tightens around me to further cease my violence, "to my father, to my brothers, to my dead mother especially, for living this long as a maiden! And you feel no remorse for me for you a man, a prince, born to be pacified, lest they wish to end up as dinner for your overgrown lizard!"

I can no longer withhold the tears from my eyes as I remember what happened to my beloved cousin who was unable to marry. She was far fairer than me, far kinder, and yet no one would have her over rumors planted by our rival house that she was impure.

I break into a sob. Daemon slips into bewilderment. He begins to panic, unaccustomed to this emotion. His grip on me begins to loosen. It was his mistake. I take the opportunity to knee him in the groin and shove him off me.

I watch him crumble. I nearly smile and think to bask in his suffering.

Once he is crouched in the ground, moaning in his pathetic pain, I wipe my tears and angrily spit out one last time, "make no mistake. I care not if you are prince or king. You will not stand in my way."

Daemon watches as I walk away.

Days have passed since the wedding and my most unsavory encounter with the royal idiot.

I was in much brighter moods as of late, since I was met with more options than ever over whom I could marry. In his own delight, my father decided to host a tourney in our estate. Houses of far and wide were invited to come, and just in his thick-faced fashion, the Prince Daemon decided to attend in honor of his house Targaryen.

I had begged my father not to invite him, but he would not risk shunning the crown over it. My father did make it a point to have my brothers distract the vermin, knowing too well his volatile tendencies when he is around me. It made for but a peaceful half hour for me since the time he got here.

It was too quickly he managed himself out of Johann and Gunnar's company and so rudely uninvited to mine.

The moment I saw him coming towards me from across the stand, I mentally prepared for the hell he was about to unleash, and asked the man I was conversing with to take his leave.

"What do you want?" I airily growl at Daemon once he gets close enough.

Unbothered, completely amused, and seemingly relieved, he releases a sigh, as he watches my latest proposition walk off behind me, "you seem completely out of luck, so I decided to rub on some of my own on you," Daemon started, hand darting over, gently caressing the skin down my arm causing goosebumps to ride around me.

I pull away and rub the area roughly in disgust. I turn to him, not liking the solemn expression he held, "what's it going to take for you to leave me alone, Daemon?"

He barely manages to hold in the quirking of the corner of his lips at the familiarity, the sheer impertinence of it all, "it's as though you are unaware it is my favorite sport to vex and rile you up," he licks his lips slowly and leans in to whisper, "you wouldn't want me to tell everyone about how we roughly spent the night alone in the garden, now would you."

I heave as he pulls away, lips in a lopsided smile.

I do not manage a retort, as suddenly I hear the trumpets sound, followed by an announcement, "Sir Ari of house Stjarna has challenged Sir Jason of house Lannister!"

I feel my heart leap to my throat. My jaw drops and my hands instantly sweat. Why would Ari do such a reckless thing when he barely even could go against me in a fight? He was too unconfrontational for this.

The prince watches my expression, but I could not care less about him in this moment more than ever.

The guests, who were preoccupied with other festivities, quickly make way to watch the show. I quickly make my way to my father, in hopes to stop this ridiculous match. I push past Daemon, uncaring that I shoved him in the process and hurriedly comb through the crowds. I move as quick as I could and yet once I find my father's face from across the sea of people, it is far too late. The sound of restless, chuffing horses fill my ears and the crowd cheers as the beasts whine in anticipation.

My heart races, "ARI! ARI!" I call from the side, practically begging, using all of my energy into my screams. It is pointless though as the crowd is too loud for anything to be distinguished and it seems my brother is wholly immersed in the game, face tense and distressed.

I look between Ari and his opponent, feeling my insides churn at the Lannister's dark grin.

The cue is given, and soon the two order their horses to run and go at it with each other. I rip my fingers through my hair.

Jason allows my brother the courtesy of the first blow and did not even move his lance to Ari. Ari manages to hit him and the crowd cheers, but having watched far too many tourneys in my time, I know that would not be enough to beat his opponent. The second time around when the two gallop towards each other, Jason is not so kind and hits my brother right in the chest, causing the wooden beam to break into a millions pieces.

"ARI!"

Ari has not fallen yet though, and foolishly rides once more, coming around the third time. I do not see what happens next however, for I'm making my off the stand to run to the players. I do freeze a moment when the crowd goes wild and suddenly the trumpets sound again, along with the announcement, "The winner is house Lannister!"

The next thing I know, I am on the playing ground running over to my fallen brother who was writhing on the dirt. Our servants are upon him, gathering his unconscious body up to be moved away and tended to.

I barely even get in front of my brother when a horse gallops beside me, then in front, effectively blocking my path.

Jason Lannister looks down at me, ripping his helm off, offering me a perverted smile, "do not be distraught, my lady, it was only a game, and I swear to you I have not gravely injured your brother."

I shudder at the sound of his voice, feeling my cheeks grow cold, only now realizing it was due to my tears wetting them. My insides however were burning in anger. Seeing him look down on me like this made me want to do nothing more than to shove him off his high horse. I could not show it though, not to him, not in front of everyone and my many other present suitors.

Jason's lips curve, "I do hope it would not be cruel of me to request your favor, my lady."

I sniffle, releasing a breath before choking out, "not at all." I turn over my shoulder and shout, "hand me a wreath!"

A servant runs up to me a moment too long in my taste, as I had to stare at Jason Lannister's face the whole duration.

I hand him the wreath, which he plainly gets and keeps on his wrist. I offer him a quick curtsy and he nods before galloping off, enticing the cheers of everyone. He basks in his phony glory as I take to the sidelines where I began to look for my brother. It does not take a lot for me to see him laid on a makeshift bed with our family maester attending to him.

"Ari!" I exclaim the very moment, running over to him, falling into a fit of sobs.

"Worry not, my lady," the maester speaks, as he wipes my brother's face, "Lord Jason's words hold true. He did not severely injure young master Ari."

I break into a choke, crumpling down on the floor by my younger brother's side, gripping his leg in anguish. I groan in distress, "how could you be foolish enough to challenge someone?! And Jason Lannister of all people?!"

My unconscious brother, of course, does not respond, but one of my servants do, "pardon my brazenness, my lady, but I do believe sir Ari did so because of how that... Lannister heir spoke lowly of you."

I turn to my servant and look at her in expectance, "what did he say?"

Before she could reply, the trumpets sound again, and there is an announcement, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen has challenged Lord Jason of house Lannister!"

I perk up at the sound of that and rise from where I was, walking to my servant, "what did he say about me?"

She sighs and looks away, "he said he was doing a you a favor by marrying you, although everyone knows you would make an impertinent wife."

There is a a loud crashing sound, followed by the cheers of the crowd.

"The winner is house Targaryen!"

I look out to the playing ground and find Daemon, clad in his arrogance and his armor, mounted on a horse trotting over to me. I spare a glance at his fallen opponent, Jason Lannister, who looked far worse than my brother had, yet feeling no remorse for him.

I look up at the prince once he is finally upon me. If I hadn't known any better, he looked distracted by my tear stained face, and so I do the talking, "do you require my favor as well, my lord?"

Daemon eyes flicker up and down me. He steals a look past me, seeing my unconscious brother, then decides to ignore me, turning his horse around, trotting to the direction of my father, "Lord of house Stjarna."

My father watches the rider come closer.

The prince continues, "you held this tourney in celebration of your fair daughter's many marriage proposals, and yet your son has been left injured by a man who wishes to marry her."

Daemon's gaze falls back on me, his horse continues to gallop back and forth in restlessness, "I request that you withdraw the Lannister," he starts, turning back to my father, "my losing opponent, from her list of suitors for this reason."

I knit my brows at that, feeling an inexplicable feeling rise within me.

My father stares at him for a moment, debating the gravity of his words, before replying, "my son knew what he was getting into. Tis but a game played in good spirits. I hold not my son's loss to Sir Jason, nor should he hold his loss to you."

"Well, if you cannot remove him for that reason," the prince raises his face up proudly, "remove him as my request as a winner of your tourney."

Johann, who was now behind my father begins to mutter something behind him. My father raises a hand to my brother, then releases a breath before asking, "and why would you request this, if I may so inquire, prince Daemon?"

"Because it is my understanding Sir Jason is her strongest prospect, and I should like to be her main suitor instead," he responds, making the crowd erupt into hushed whispers.

My father lets out an incredulous laugh. Johann, behind him, looks down at the prince, brows raising the way it does in times where I begin to anger him. My father however cuts himself off when he sees the serious expression on Daemon's face, "pardon me, your grace, but you have never shown any interest in my daughter before. One would even think you do not take kindly to her."

"No, I don't, do I?" he mutters, chuckling himself, "yet you of all people know about the disruptions of her previous proposals, disruptions, you have been aware of for a long time, that I have caused-- at first due to my boredom."

My father's face hardens.

Daemon face contorts into a smirk, "I've only realized myself why I have been so adamant about causing your daughter trouble," he turns his horse over to me, catching my eyes, "very much recently."

The crowd is bustling at the notion, eating up the Prince's words like roast beef.

"When, if I dare so ask, did you realize this, my prince?"

"During Lady Gemma's wedding," Daemon turns his horse around, "when I accompanied your daughter to the gardens," he looks back up to my father, "and we roughly spent time alone in the cover of night."

Instantly, a chorus of gasps fill the air.

That fucking piece of Targaryen shit.

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon

[chouxsardine]

Hold Me (1)--- Jake Kiszka x reader

My fic for @seenoversundown 's Valentine's Day Writing Event! I choose the prompt: Play Truth or Dare

Summary: "hold me like you hold your Les Paul, have your way with me the way you play her.” || Your drunk slip-up leads to one of the best Valentine's Day gift you've ever got

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 3547

Warnings (for this part): 18+! Minors DNI, sexual implications, cursing, alcohol, dom Jake/sub reader, guitar kink, bondage, scissors, inappropriate use of guitar strap, pickle slander

Author's note: Remember I said here about a series of improper guitar use fantasy? Well, here's another one! This idea has been circling in my mind for the longest time. Happy Valentine's Day, Enjoy!

🎧: Dirty Little Religion by Warren Zevon

“Come on, y/n, you have to play by the rules. That’s only fair.”

“Oh gosh, please don’t,” you groaned, banging your forehead on the table, regretting every possible decision you have made in the last two hours.

It was a Friday night, Jake and you were throwing your very own drinking party at home. It started out with some innocent cocktails but has somehow soon turned into chugging down straight tequila. To add to the fun, you proposed an impromptu and very informal round Truth or Dare, which, looking back now, was a very bad idea. Yes, your original intention was to fish out some funny anecdotes from Jake, but woe is you—how the tables have turned. Now, you were the one facing the difficult choice between spilling your dirtiest fantasy or drinking a shot of pickle juice.

That dare was definitely devilish, and Jake was setting it up for you to fail. He knew you absolutely can’t stand pickle juice, especially when it’s that bottom-of-the-jar “essence”— evilly green and murky with all the loosened pulp and seeds floating around. Simply one look at it made you sick.

“Pick your poison, darling,” Jake said, making no effort to hide his smirk.

You tentatively reached for the shot glass but immediately gave in as its smell reached your nose. Why trouble yourself? You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t an arousing tingle inside. Simply the way Jake said the word ‘fantasy’ sounds sexy. Talking about the chokehold this man has on you. It was clear that you were fighting a losing battle. To choose something so ghastly over a little spice in the uncharted territory is just straight-up stupid. Plus, you may or may not have had a bit too much to drink. You felt positive that one simple sip of that pickle juice would make you throw up before the alcohol does.

Sensing the silence, Jake’s demeanour changed. He was more than tipsy, yes, but not to the point that it stops him from being attentive to your feelings and reactions. It was a cute, hot little thing he came up with on the spur of the moment that he thought would be fun. It wasn’t meant to put you on the spot. To make you uncomfortable and ruining the moment is the last thing he wanted.

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have—”

“I’ve always—”

You opened your mouth simultaneously.

Jake took one look at you and shut up immediately. Your cheeks are flushed, your half-lidded eyes were fixed on him with a familiar look. Your left knee that was previously stretched out was now bent against your chest. Oh.

“Go on.” He whispered.

Fuck it.

“I’ve always felt jealous of your guitar, you know that? Especially when you are away on tour. The way you play it on stage, making all those girls scream for you…And that one time you fucking kissed it to make the vibration like that?” You let out a humourless laugh as your eyes narrowed, “it drives me mad.” The way you accentuate “mad” blurs its meaning, and it makes Jake wonder.

“Mad, huh? Which kind? Mad as in crazy, or mad as in angry?”

The drinking game long forgotten now that it has changed into your worship of Jake. You ignored his question completely as you continue. The words coming out much easier and at a faster pace.

“Or the way you slap it, the way you hold its neck and rock it,” all the images and videos you’ve seen are alive in your mind, overlaying with the sight of Jake right before your eyes, “the way you make her whine and scream.”

Jake’s heart skips a bit at the change of pronoun.

“Did you ever get hard while doing that?” You set down the glass on the table, got down on your hands and knees, crawling towards Jake until you were by his feet. “I bet you did. How can you not?” Jake beckoned and you straddled his lap in one swift motion, holding his face. Your eyes were glassy, your pupils dilated. “That’s when I get so jealous and….and insecure.” Jake frowned at that last word. He never thought of that.

“That’s when I wish I was there, waiting for you backstage. I want to kiss you and tell you how amazing you look up there because you deserve it,” with that, you studied Jake’s face intensely through your droopy eyes before defeatedly dropping your head onto his shoulder, your words muffled and slurred,“hell, you have no idea what I want to do to you.”

“I will if you tell me,” Jake tempted.

You pulled back, staring down at him. You caressed his cheek, your fanned breath tickling the loose strands of hair that frame his face. To Jake, you feel like a warm dessert soaked in bourbon; you looked…delicious. It was the same kind of primal desire that shares the same origin with hunger, the wild biological needs fuming. All your shame and self-consciousness unraveled by the alcohol, coming off like a corset with its ribbons pulled.

“I want you to tie me up with your guitar strap,” your eyes closed at how good it felt finally having those words freed from your mind, “I want you to hold me like you hold your Les Paul, have your way with me the way you play her.”

Jake’s jaw hung open. Damn, alcohol does makes people open up. He was not expecting you to say that and was also not expecting himself finding it so incredibly hot. Practically, whiskey dick, but mentally, he was so hard. Before he could come up with a decent response, your head dropped down again, this time with a heavier thud, and he could feel your breathing change.

“Y/n?”

No response.

He was so glad you finished that last sentence before passing out.

That was some weeks ago and you only had vague memories of the night. You knew that you must have spilled some crazy shit because since then, on several occasions, you have caught Jake staring at you. Well, it’s not like he can keep his eyes off you very often, but you can tell this is different. He would have his thumb and index fingers rubbing his chin, looking deep in thought as if composing a riff, except that his eyes are on you, and there is a predatory smugness that keeps you at your feet.

“For fucks sake, Jake. You’re doing it again! Why are you glaring at me like that?” You have tried fishing it out of him more than once.

“Secret” and a wry smile were the answers you got every time.

Luckily, he didn’t keep you waiting for too long; it was only a few days later when you finally get to find out about it.

Neither Jake nor you are the type of people who would go overboard on Valentine’s Day. In the past, it has always been a cute dinner date followed by a night that is both sweet and spicy. You could tell Jake is up to something this time. He’s been dropping subtle (or so he thought) hints throughout the day.

Evening was fast approaching. You opted for staying in and cooking. Jake made an amazing chicken piccata. (He even used heart-shaped pasta!) Dinner was quick and delicious, Warren Zevon’s record was playing in the background as you did the dishes. A pair of arms wraps around your waist as you turn off the faucet. Jake’s curls tickle your skin. He is humming to the song, and it takes you a second to realize that he was humming along with the record to the lyrics of Dirty Little Religion.

“I have a gift for you, sweetheart.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, as if his intentions couldn’t be clearer. But who says you aren’t equally (or perhaps more) excited?

“Oh love, you’ve been so good to me all day, how could I ask more from you?” You sound innocent, as if completely unaware of the implications.

“M’not asking. I’m offering. My good girl deserves all my loving.” Jake replies slyly.

Jake calling you good girl will always make you knees go weak. You turn around in his embrace and willingly accept his affectionate kiss on the lips before pulling open the dishwasher. ‘Fine. I’ll just finish up here real quick, okay?”

“Of course, and when you do, come downstairs and find me.”

You quirk your eyebrows. “Downstairs, huh?” It looks like he does has some ideas.

“And you better hurry up, sugar.” He gives you a teasing smack on the butt before turning on his heels.

Downstairs means his studio. Your steps are a bit wobbly as you reach the bottom of the stairs and your fingers shiver as they come into contact with the cool metal of the doorknob. Calm down, y/n, you could be getting all riled up over nothing; knowing that couldn’t be further from the truth, your attempt to calm down sounds pathetic. Throughout your relationship with Jake, the last thing this man ever did was disappoint. And if your nose serves you right, you detect a faint smell of magnolia in the air—the scent that was only reserved for certain occasions. God, what has Jake been planning?

On a second thought, you retrieve your hand from the doorknob, choosing to gently knock three times. A gut feeling tells me that the man of the other side of the door would prefer some manners tonight.

“Come in.”

You push the door open. The room is warm and well-lit, looking the same as usual. Jake is sitting in his Corbusier-style leather chair in the corner, fingers steepling together.

“Hmmmm, a girl with courtesy I see. Very well.” Jake commends.

Bingo. You smile coyly. Your praise kink almost made you curtsy to him.

“Already so good, perhaps I have to find something else to reward you with on top of your gift,” Jake says thoughtfully as he approaches you and pulls you in for a kiss, “but first, my princess deserves to live out her fantasy.”

Fantasy? The way Jake says it gives the word a familiar twang that triggers something in your brain. Your mind is racing as it flips through memories from the past few weeks. Looking around you, most of Jake’s guitars are hanging on the wall instead of resting on the stand. A rather odd thing for him to do. And every guitar on the wall has the strap attached, hanging below them and casting snake-like shadows on the wall.

Then it kicks in. Memories of that Truth or Dare night rushes back to you. Your drunken words replay themselves in your mind, clear and loud: “I want you to tie me up with your guitar strap.”

“Oh, Jake, you didn’t—” Your hands fly up to cover your face in embarrassment.

“Oh, but I do,” Jake laughs, taking your hands in his and thumbing them in soothing circles, “no need to be shy, love. There’s nothing shameful about having desires; it’s a very human thing to do.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. I’m so happy that you feel comfortable enough to share it with me,” Jake smile reassuringly, “and I find it hot beyond words.”

Your eyes shot up at him upon hearing it, and Jake’s gaze tells you that he is being honest. Seeing that you’ve relaxed, Jake leads you to stand right in front of his guitar display, his hands resting steadily on your shoulders.

“I’ll let you take your pick, doll. Whichever one that has the honour to have caught your eyes.”

You take a deep breath, feeling like a child in a candy store. This is not the time to get overwhelmed. Your eyes first travel greedily between the guitars, linger over their smooth curves, then you divert to the straps. Jake’s signature ’61 Les Paul SG is standing tall and proud in the middle, paired with the most often seen thin leather strap in back. Moving further right is his SG Classic with the Pinegrove brown padded strap from earlier days, and there’s the black one with the broader shoulder pad which was once used to hold a double-neck but now used on his Coodercaster. You picture them laying over Jake’s shoulder, the way they strain and slacken with his movement, the umbilical cord between his body and his creation. You also imagine the what they would look and feel when wrapped around your waist. The slightly nervous you is inching towards the brown strap—it looks so comforting with its suede texture and its wrinkled surface, and its also wider, therefore leaning towards a cuff rather than a rope when tied; however, the bolder voice obviously prefers the black one—classy, timeless, direct and succinct like a command. It’s thinner, so it might cut into your skin if you are squirming too much (which you definitely will), but isn’t that what you are after? Isn’t that the gist—pleasure mixed with pain?

Jake is being unexpectedly patient, giving you all the time you need to take it in as he resumes his previous position in the chair, admiring your predicament from afar.

“I want that one.” You blurt out finally, pointing at his black strap.

The look on Jake’s face made you suspect that he has known what you’d choose all along.

“Nice choice.” Jake comments, stepping forward to remove the strap from the guitar. You know it’s most likely in your head, but the strap looks different the second that it was detached from the instrument; now wrapped around Jake’s palm, it looks more powerful, it looks like it is determined to serve its intended purpose well for tonight.

“Now go upstairs.”

This time, the command is brusque.

Oh, so the studio is not the final destination. You feel like being on a scavenger’s hunt, following all the clues and getting more snd more excited and impatient by the second. You can’t tell if you are disappointed or relieved that you are not doing…well, whatever Jake intends to do with you…in his studio.

You hands are already touching the door when you heard him again:

“While you are up there, princess, do yourself a favour and strip down to your bra and panties.”

You gasp, but chose not to turn around.

“Yes,” you murmur just loudly enough for him to hear you, “Sir.”

Upstair in your shared bedroom, you do not know how to position your body. You are naked except for your underwear, but the room still seems too hot. You tried laying in bed in a sultry pose—too pretentious, for fuck’s sake, you’ re not shooting porn. You sat down but you kept hugging your knees to yourself—you don’t want Jake to mistake that as reluctance. You are just a bit jittery. God knows how long you’ve been fantasizing this. You tried sitting on the ottoman, but the leather kept sticking to your bum, and it wouldn’t take long before you start sweating and leaving a shame-filled imprint on the seat. You’ve always wanted this, and it’s Jake, there’s nothing to be nervous about, just do what feels best.

Alright, alright.

Following the voice in your heart, you find yourself dropping down to your knees, kneeling on the plush beige rug by the bed. You have your back against the bedroom door. You know it would be impossible for you not to look at Jake’s reaction the moment he see you in this pose, but you are also not sure if you are ready to take that reaction. To you, for now, kneeling feels the most right. For you and Jake, the dom/sub thing in bed is never explicit. Sure, he enjoys you calling him Daddy from time to time and you definitely have got him all whiny and teary for more than once, but this would be the first time that you will be trying restraints. You guess you have always had this fantasy—there’s just something about Jake and his guitar that makes your knees buckle. You are secretly thankful for your drunk slip-up, because you are not sure if you will have the courage to stare into his eyes and say those words sober, even though you know that Jake would never judge you.

The sound of the door opening interrupts your thought. The room is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop, and you are holding your breath. Therefore, even without looking, you are positive that Jake hitches his breath when he sees you. You regret a little for facing away from him. Now you want to see his expression.

“Don’t move.” As if reading your mind, Jake orders. You straighten your back. Jake approaches until he is standing right behind you.

“What a good girl.”

Something touches you. You quickly realize Jake is using the bended strap to trace random patterns on your back. You feel the looped end of the strap at your cervical spine before it circles around your scapula, from where it travels down along your spine all the way to your hipbone, dipping a little into the elastic band of your panties. Jake watches the involuntary contraction of your muscles as they react to the touch, feeling satisfied as he sees the fine hairs on the back of your neck slightly perk up.

You just breathed a sigh of relief when you feel the smooth leather again, this time reaching in front and tracing your clavicle. It stops at the little indentation between the bones, right beneath your throat and inches upwards to your chin, tilt it upward, then finding leverage on the left side of your jaw, Using it to turn your head back.

You run straightforward into Jake’s eyes, which are now the colour of melted chocolate. The dark, mesmerizing, 80% cocoa type.

Your pouty lips and puppy eyes are silently begging him for a kiss. Jake indulges, catching your bottom lip between his teeth slightly as his pulls away.

“Already tasting so sweet, angel.”

Aside from the praise, the tenderness in his tone is unvarnished. This is the voice he uses whenever he checks up on you. This is a sign that you are about to have the talk—the sweet conversation with a fraction of awkwardness before you two try out anything new that gives consent and sets up rules and boundaries.

“I…I really want this.” You pre-empt.

“That’s good to hear,” Jake chuckles. Now he has came around, sitting face to face with you. What looks like a wash bag laying beside his knees. What? He has gone and got a bag for this? You wonder what the hell he has got in there.

“I know it’s been a minute, but do you still remember our safe word?”

“Yes. It’s ‘soundcheck’.” You answer, peeling your eyes away from the bag. The safe word was something you two has settled early on in your relationship. Neither of you has been in a position that requires the use of it, but the simple fact that such a word exists and you are comfortable using it when the situations calls for is reassurance for both sides.

“Good. Use it if you need to. Since we are trying something new today, I suggest we add on to it a bit more,” Jake holds your gaze steadily as you nod, “we are going with colours. Green means all good and continue; yellow means pause, say it if you feel like it’s too much, we will take a break, check in, work things out, and you decide if you want to keep going; red is the big ‘no-no’, say it and everything, I mean everything, stops immediately, no question asked. Copy?”

“Yes, green to go, yellow to pause, and red to stop.” You repeat it back, knowing Jake always requires a clear response at this point. This is starting to sound like those naughty romance novels, although you have a secret feeling that what you’re about to experience is going to be so much better.

“Clever girl,” Jake unzips the bag and takes out a pair of scissors, showing them to you, “these are safety shears. I feel like they’re necessary if I am tying you up today. They are medical grade and they cut through everything. Whatever the reason you need out of the restraints, they get you the quick release. ”

He places the scissors in your hands. You hold on to it, finding its curved blade and matte handle consoling. “Now listen up, if it comes to that,” Jake speaks slowly, his index finger tapping your naked skin with each accentuated word, “I will cut the strap. I don’t care how long I’ve had it or how much it costs. They are nothing compared to your safety. Do you hear me, love?”

“Yes. Yes, I understand.” You heart melts at how serious he is taking this. You knew he must’ve done his research. The colour system and all. “Thank you, Jake.”

“No need to thank me for keeping you safe, doll,” Jake squeezes your hand gently, “now, are we ready?”

Part 2 out now

Yeah! you made it! Thank you SO MUCH for reading :))

any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated. I've never done a taglist before....does anyone want to be tagged for part 2?

my other works: Permission to Fall | Mariner's Complex | Ticked (all my boxes) | Love is a four-legged word | The Lucky Ones | Coming back to me | Warm Honey | He Would

#gvfvalentines #greta van fleet #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka #gvf fic #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jakedown

[vampwritesstuff]

Tricky Feelings

I’ve been on a Leo kick lately, so have a fun lil self indulgent oneshot I made for him lol. If y’all end up liking this, then check out my multi-fandom masterlist which is pinned on my blog! Also- I totally didn’t hide a song reference in here at some point 😅 giving y’all a mini challenge to find it lmao

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Leonardo x Reader

TMNT Version: 2012, because it’s lowkey my fav version lol

Requested?: Not a request

CW: angst to fluff, comfort, mentions of body shaming (body type is unspecified), AFAB reader, brief mention of blood and being cut by a Shuriken on the cheek, playful teasing from Raph, Mikey and Donnie.

Word Count: 2.4k

You were sitting in the lair, curled up into yourself as Master Splinter comforted you. “I’m so stupid, Master Splinter.. why did I even think that he would actually like me?” You sobbed into the shoulder of the only father figure you’ve ever had. “Y/n, boys are.. dumb. That boy couldn’t see how amazing you are, and therefore, has missed out on such an incredible girl.” Splinter told you, patting your shoulder.

You and April had known the turtles and their master for months. Both you and April were training to be kunoichi under Splinter’s guidance, but you seemed to be more in tune with it than your best friend was.

Originally, you had come down here to take out some frustration by sparring with Raphael, however, he and the other boys were out on a mission when you arrived. So you settled for a therapy session with Splinter, to make up for it. You sniffed and wiped away the tears from your eyes, “Thanks, Master Splinter, I really needed that.” He gave a nod, “If you’d like, we can train to take your mind off of it.” He suggested, and you snorted but gave a nod, you could use the distraction from your emotions. Of course, Splinter wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to train you.

When the four turtles returned, they found you and Splinter in the dojo, training. They watched with impressed expressions as you focused on dodging the Shuriken that Splinter was aiming at you, per your request that he train you on evading and expecting attacks. He had a feeling that it had to do with what had happened prior to you visiting the lair, but you hadn’t told him what exactly had happened.

Once Splinter had run out of Shuriken to throw, he ended the session, also having noticed his sons’ return home. You nodded and both bowed to each other. “Dude! That was awesome!” Mikey shouted finally as he bounded over to you, making movements and sounds that mimicked what you had been doing. “Oh! Dude, Y/n, your cheek is bleeding.” He said casually, and everyone turned their heads to you, even Splinter was surprised to see that Mikey was right. “Oh, guess I didn’t notice..” you hummed, wiping away the blood but your cheek continued to bleed.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I did not realize that I actually hurt you.” Splinter spoke as he walked to you with Raph, Leo and Donnie following behind him. They must’ve been telling him how the mission went. “It’s okay, Master Splinter, it happens. Besides, I hardly feel it.” You hummed, but Donnie was already leading you off to his lab so he could patch up your cheek. Once you were out of sight, Leo turned to his dad.

“So what was Y/n doing here, anyways?” The leader in blue asked, Splinter shrugged, “That is not for me to tell, my son.” And with that, Splinter disappeared into his room. Leo gave an exasperated sigh but decided to check on you and Donnie.

However, he stopped when he saw that Raph and Mikey were standing outside the door, seemingly listening in on the conversation going on. Before he could ask, Raph turned and shushed Leo, grabbing him and telling him to just listen.

“That guy doesn’t deserve your time of day, Y/n, you shouldn’t worry about him.” Came Donnie’s voice, “But, I liked him Donnie, and I really thought he liked me back.” Your response was muffled, almost as if you had your face buried in your hands, trying to keep the tears from flowing again, Leo felt his heart drop at the mention of a guy. “So you’re gonna let one bad date with a guy affect your view on dating?” Donnie’s voice questioned again.

Inside the lab, you were sat on the table as Donnie disinfected the cut. “No, well.. maybe, I dunno.” You sighed, “Donnie, you weren’t there… he made fun of my body, said extremely mean things and even threw his drink on me.. how do I not let that affect me?” You questioned, only looking up to see a stunned Donnie and three other very angry looking turtle brothers, even Mikey looked pissed. “Uh, how much did you three hear of that?” You asked, nervously clearing your throat.

“Enough.” Raph said as he stomped up to you, you shrunk back as you thought he was gonna blow up on you. Instead though, you felt him pull you into a tight hug, and eventually three other pairs of arms joined his. “Y/n. You’re worth so much more than that guy can see.” Came Leo’s voice, you teared up again. “I swear, when I find that guy I’m gonna shove my foot so far up his-“ you smacked Raph on the head, “No you will not. But, you guys are right, I’ve got all I need right here.”

Eventually you all separated from the hug and had found yourselves watching Space Heroes in the living area of the lair, you were sat next to Leo.

If Leo was being truthful, his heart was pounding at the feeling of you being so close, his heart had squeezed painfully when he’d heard you had gone on a date with another human guy. In all honesty, Leo had a huge crush on you, and his brothers knew it. Raph looked behind him at the two of you and gave his brother a ‘Get em, tiger’ kind of wink, but Leo just shook his head at Raphael. Of all his brothers, Raph was the one who gave Leo the most shit about trying to use Karai as a distraction from his feelings for you. Leo felt bad for being kind of relieved that your date didn’t go well, of course he was angry that you were told those things by that guy, but maybe it was a chance he could use to prove that he was a good choice for you.

Leo heard you yawn next to him, and without thinking he pulled you against him and laid your head on his shoulder. He felt you stiffen for a split second before you relaxed into him and began to fall asleep. Leo looked down at you and his gaze softened at the sight of you with your eyes closed and your head laying on him, your arms wrapped around him in a hug. He was distracted though by the sounds of Raph and Mikey giggling.

He looked at his two brothers and was horrified to see that they were mocking him and you, Raph pretending to be you while Mikey acted as Leo. Then they started making kissy noises, and that’s when Donnie lost it and began to laugh loudly. Rolling his eyes, Leo stood with you in his arms, carefully to not wake you up, however you were already awake and had witnessed his brother’s teasing. In the heat of the moment, you turned Leo’s face to look at you and gave him a quick peck to the lips, laughing at his expression when you pulled away.

You laughed even harder, however, at the reaction of his brothers, they were gagging and freaking out. “OH MY GOD, LEO’S GOT COOTIES!!” Was all you heard from Mikey as Leo took you back to his room, now he definitely needed to know how you truly felt about him.

You let out a small ‘oof’ as Leonardo unceremoniously dropped you onto his mattress, “Hey, what was that for?” You asked sitting up, only to see a flustered and fidgety Leo. This was not something you saw often and you really only remembered him acting this way with Karai when she first came around. “Leo?” You asked cautiously, as if you were attempting to get a stray to eat from your hand.

“Please tell me you meant that.” Was all he said, confusing you. “Meant what, Leo?” You questioned, and you could see him visibly upset. “That kiss. Please.. just tell me that meant something to you, like it did to me.” Leo’s gaze was pointed at the ground, he didn’t want to look up at you and see the pity in your eyes as you rejected him. Your eyes widened.

Truth be told, you had the biggest crush on Leo, like almost as big as Donnie’s crush on April. But when Leo had began to have his little, very obvious, boy crush on Karai you started pushing those feelings way down because you knew you would never be as cool as her. Trying to ignore the squeeze in your chest each time you heard Leo talk about her didn’t help, so you actively began seeking out an old crush from school in the hopes that you could move on and look where that landed you. Then you found out that Karai was his sister, and that changed everything, but things didn’t go back to how they were. You knew that there would be no way that Leo liked you, you were just some random human girl that was saved by them.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard a choked back sob come from the terrapin in front of you. “L- Leo… I,” he stopped you before you could continue. “No, I get it, you were just teasing my brothers…” He mumbled, wiping his tears and attempting to appear unbothered. “That’s not it all, Leonardo!” You snapped, quickly covering your mouth as you and Leo both looked at each other in shock. You hadn’t used his full name since you guys had first met. “What?” Was all he said.

“I didn’t just do that to tease your brothers, or you.” You could feel the word vomit coming up your throat, but you were powerless to stop it and in the moment, you needed to get all of it off your chest. “I like you! I have for over two months now, and I didn’t think you would ever like me back so I started ignoring it and pushing it away, thinking that if I didn’t acknowledge my feelings then they would go away. But then Karai showed up, and all you could do was talk about her and how cool she is and I realized that there was no way you’d ever like me because I could never be like her and-“ Leo cut you off by grabbing your face and pressing his forehead to yours, staring you in the eyes.

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you never could. “I like you too, a lot, and when I heard you had gone on that date, I thought I had lost my chance. But, I’m taking it now because I know that you feel the same way.” He had said something else but it fell on deaf ears as you were now hyper-focused on how close he was to you, there were just inches between you both.

Leo felt a shiver run down his body as you whispered his name and moved closer, both of your minds were clouded. Leo couldn’t describe what it felt like when he finally closed the distance and kissed you. He swore that it was probably the most amazing feeling in the world, it was nothing like he had imagined before. His hands rested on either side of you, one of his knees propped against the bed while his other foot was planted on the floor, giving him stability. He didn’t really know what to do with his hands.

You were in a similar situation, eventually your hands had found their way around his neck and were twirling the tails of his blue bandanna around them. You had expected his lips to be rough in texture, and while they kind of were, they weren’t nearly as scale like as you anticipated.

The kiss was hesitant, neither of you fully committing until either of you fully relaxed into the kiss. But once you both had relaxed, your movements became more fluid and Leo moved his hands to your hips. The kiss only lasted for a few moments, but to the both of you it felt like minutes as you pulled away to take deep breaths of air.

Neither of you returned for a second kiss, but instead you kept your foreheads together. Leo found comfort in listening to the soft inhales you took to catch your breath. There was so much Leo wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words to express how he felt.

“Thank you.” He blurted without thinking, what an odd thing to say after your first kiss with a girl, and Leo was mentally cursing himself for that. “For what?” You asked with a chuckle that made Leo blush, “Well, uh for everything? For not pushing us away, for keeping our secret, and just.. everything thing you’ve done for me and my family. It means so much, especially to me.” You felt your heart swell with happiness, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“You guys saved my life, it’s the least I could do.” You told him with a soft voice. Leo moved to sit beside you, and this time he was the one who laid his head on your shoulder. “Will you be my girlfriend?” Leo asked, he was still nervous to ask despite knowing that you would most likely say yes. “Of course, I’d love to be your girlfriend.” Was your answer, and it made Leo’s heart soar with happiness.

He snaked his arms around your waist and easily pulled you into a laying position. You definitely were not used to Leo being this touchy or clingy, however, it was definitely nice to be cuddled up and held close to him. Leo supposed this was what it meant to be touch starved, because oh boy was he now addicted to the fluttery feeling in his stomach that he got each time you gave him a reassuring squeeze.

You lightly traced the scutes of his shell while your head was resting against his plastron. The feeling made Leo’s eyes droop and he began to fall asleep. Thankfully, it was a weekend and you wouldn’t have school in the morning, which meant spending the night at the lair would be okay.

Oh boy, Leo is going to kill his brothers when he finds out that they got hundreds of photos of the both of you sleeping together, cuddled up.

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2018 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2014 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leo 2012 #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x you

[jimmy-dipthong]

Why are anime translations so bad?

Disclaimer: I have never done any professional translation, and I don’t watch dubbed/subbed anime very often. But recently I watched a few episodes of subbed Demon Slayer at a friend’s place, and I noticed how bad some of the translations were. It reminded me of my childhood, watching subbed Ghibli movies and thinking “that english sounds weird”. As a kid I thought it was an unavoidable part of translation, but now that I can speak Japanese, I realise that we can do so much better with translations!

This post is my attempt to identify what a “bad” translation is, and hazard some guesses at what mistakes translators make that lead to these bad translations.

Examples are from Ranking of Kings, episodes 10 and 11. Screenshots taken from Crunchyroll.

What do I mean by bad?

Reason 1: They don’t sound like natural English.

If a character in an english cartoon said some of the stuff that characters in anime say in translations, it would sound very unnatural. Anime-translation english is unnatural and awkward sounding.

ダイダ様、久しぶりに街に出てみますか？ Price Daida, it’s been a while, so why don’t we go down into town?

This example sounds awkward. What’s with the random “so” in the middle of the sentence? No one in English media talks like that. If you just remove the “so” and replace it with a full stop, we get a much more natural sounding sentence.

Price Daida, it’s been a while. Why don’t we go down into town?

Or even something like this:

Price Daida, why don’t we go into town? It’s been a while since you’ve been down there.

Reason 2: They don’t fit the character.

This screenshot shows the character Kage speaking (the black blob). He has a character trait of being kind of immature and almost never using polite Japanese, even to royalty, which is very disrespectful. The original translation makes him sound so formal! Kage is supposed to sound like a 15 year old who tries way too hard to be rough and intimidating. Can you imagine someone like that saying “You may say those things”?

いやいやいや、なんかいい感じなこと言ってるけど、違うからね！ No, no, no! You may say those feel-good things, but reality is different!

It doesn’t preserve his characterisation at all. Way too formal and not juvenile enough! A better translation would be:

No, no, no! Nice motivational speech, but they’re just words!

The devil’s advocate & descriptivism

Now, I’ll preface this by saying I am a hardcore descriptivist. I’m not saying that these translations are wrong, or that the resulting English is incorrect English. What I’m saying is that they do not achieve the goals of a good translation, those goals being preserving what is being said and how it’s being said.

It could be argued that by now, anime translations have become a new dialect of English. Anime fans have come to expect the awkward-sounding phrasing, and instead might see natural English as unexpected. This is a fine rebuttal of my first point (it sounds awkward) but not of my second point (speech-pattern-based characterisation is often lost). Even then, anime translations are not exclusively for established anime fans. First time viewers may be put off by the unnatural language choices and strange turns of phrase. “Anime is cringe” they might say, and they wouldn’t be wrong. A good translation should be understandable to the entire target audience, and first time or casual viewers certainly make up a large portion of that target audience.

Why do the translations end up so bad?

They err on the side of direct translation over meaning-based translation

Often, it seems like the main nouns and verbs in the sentence get translated verbatim, and the rest of the translation is forced to bend around those. In addition, they do not consider how a similar sentiment might be phrased in english. Even if it’s a japanese way of saying something, they preserve the individual words instead of changing the whole sentence. Let’s look at the Kage example from before:

いやいやいや、なんかいい感じなこと言ってるけど、違うからね！ No, no, no! You may say those feel-good things, but reality is different!

I’ve coloured the text so you can see which pieces got translated separately. In this example, basically every word is being translated separately. Now let’s look at my example:

いやいやいや、なんかいい感じなこと言ってるけど、違うからね！ No, no, no! Nice motivational speech, but they’re just words!

I’m translating the entire middle verb phrase as one atomic piece of meaning. It’s not individually important that, for example, the specific word 言ってる was used, so it’s not important that I translate it directly to the word “say”. What is important is that Kage is saying that Despa is saying some nice stuff, but it doesn’t change the facts. I have a feeling that the more you can group words together and translate them as a whole phrase, the more natural the translation ends up sounding (and the more characterisation you can preserve).

They use weird words, due to dictionary translation

Let’s look at another example:

兄上は弱者だと、どこか甘えていないか？ Aren’t they sort of spoiling Brother, just because he’s a weakling?

In this example, the word 弱者 is translated as “weakling”. “Weakling” is a pretty rare word to hear outside of anime. That’s probably the best direct translation if we’re looking at the word 弱者 out of context. However, words always appear in context. Both times the word 弱者 is used to refer to a person in this episode, it’s used to refer to disabled people (Bojji, who is deaf, and a citizen, who is both blind and deaf). The citizen is actually not physically weak, in fact he looks pretty chunky and strong, so 弱者 is not being used to refer to his physical strength, only his disability. The English word “weakling” strongly suggests physical weakness, so I don’t feel like it’s appropriate here. Instead, I feel like a more appropriate translation would be:

Do you think Brother gets special treatment, just because he’s so pathetic?

Daida is immature and heartless at this point in his character. He has contempt for both Bojji and the citizen, and sees them as weak, but he also feels pity for them. I think the word “pathetic” sums up his emotions for them much better than the word “weakling”, as well as not coming loaded with the incorrect “physical weakness” connotation.

As a side note, you may have noticed I translated the first part of the sentence differently too. That’s another example of how (in my opinion) grouping words together to translate a phrase as a whole results in a much more natural phrasing.

They try to preserve the original grammar

An important skill to have when translating is knowing which aspects of the phrase are important to preserve in translation, and which parts are not important. Word order and grammar are almost never important enough to preserve.

ダイダ様こそ、選ばれた人間。 Prince Daida, you are one who is chosen.

In this example, the past tense verb 「選ばれた/chosen」modifying the noun 「人間/person」 seems to have been determined to be important to preserve by the translator, which leads to the awkward phrasing “one who is chosen”. In reality, the minutia of the original grammar is not important to preserve - we can translate 選ばれた人間 as a set phrase rather than translating the words individually:

Prince Daida, you are one of the chosen few.

Again, we can see that the translation is improved by grouping words together and translating the phrase as a piece of atomic meaning!

Anime translation is a naturally restrictive medium

For dubs, the characters’ mouth movements need to match up. This really narrows down the possibilities of translation options. It means that sub-optimal word choices may be used, and the rhythm of speech may be forced into an odd speed in places.

For subs, although the syllables and mouth movements don’t need to match up as perfectly as they do in dubs, the subtitles still end up needing to be applied over the same moments of speech. However, often, if the given situation in the anime was to be completely reframed in English, maybe no one would have said anything at that moment. There are times when someone would say something in Japanese that you would expect someone to not say anything in english.

デスパー：弟子の悪口は許しますけど、私の悪口は許しませんよ！！ カゲ：逆でしょ！！！！ Despa: You can insult my apprentice, but I won’t let you insult me! Kage: You’ve got it backwards!

In Japanese comedy, the role of ツッコミ (best translation is “the straight man”) is ubiquitous and plays the part of a laugh track - telling audiences when to laugh. In this case, Kage is playing the part of ツッコミ by pointing out that what Despa has said is the opposite of what you’d expect him to say. In this example, I feel like if this was an English cartoon, Kage wouldn’t have said anything. English speaking comedies generally expect/trust audiences to get the jokes without them being explicitly pointed out. I feel like this shows how attempting to fit subtitles to every spoken phrase can lead to slightly unnatural turns of phrase, since the translator is attempting to fit some speech into a place where there wouldn’t have been any in the first place. In my opinion, the best “translation” for the above would have been to cut the 1 second clip where Kage butts in with his line altogether.

———

Again, I should reiterate that I’m not a translator. I’m very keen to hear counter-arguments if you disagree with what I’ve said! Translations have got me really interested recently and I’m hungry for more opinions.

#langblr #japanese language #japanese #japanese grammar #learning japanese #linguistics #translation #language acquisition #language learning #language #anime #ranking of kings

[bobluvbot]

bonk!

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x f!reader

summary: in which fate uses a karaoke machine to lead the way for romance because you and Bradley are just too dumb and dense for it.

wc: 9k+ (sorry)

warnings: best friend!rooster, age difference, reader has a lot of insecurities like with body image (briefly mentioned, like one line only!) and self worth issues. implied sex so 18+ only! kinda beta’d. I *tried* to keep the angst at a minimum (i write angst but i am changing ok) but a LOT of pent up frustration. Still VERY fluffy though <3

A/N: Yeahhhhhhh. This started off as a single fluffy scenario with my beloved Rooster, but it kinda took a life of its own. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy! 

Reader’s call sign is Indigo!

If there was someone to blame for all this mess, it should be Mav. More often than not, it’s always Maverick’s fault.

He brought up the idea first during one of those after hours of the Hard Deck.

If nothing much has been going on back in base, you and Rooster, sometimes the rest of the Dagger squad would stay behind to help him and Penny clean and get everything straight for the next day. You would do it so often that Penny, who was adamant in shooing you guys away claiming that she could handle it, gave up trying and now checks if you’re cleaning thoroughly.

“Pen,” he’d said in passing, leaning against the mop he was using. “You know what’d make this place better?”

“Are you saying it isn’t already?”

Mav stutters, now realizing how his words could’ve sounded differently than he originally intended, much to you and Rooster’s amusement as you listened in to the conversation. “No- I- you know I didn’t mean it like that, honey.”

“I know,” Penny laughs. “I’m kidding. What were you saying, hun?”

“We should bring in a karaoke machine.”

-

In retrospect, it was a good idea. Not everyone who’d drunkenly belt out lyrics to a song could hit the right notes without the background music, the jukebox has not been updated to have all the hit music the younger crowd wants to hear, and not everyone could remember the piano chords of their favorite song. And as much as it would please the public demand, the highly acclaimed Rooster Bradshaw and his Great Balls of Fire could not commit to a nightly residency at the Hard Deck due to his demanding day job of being a fighter pilot. Welcoming the machine seemed like a harmless decision, and placing it outside seemed to complete the often deserted outdoor seating area.

And for a while it did what was expected. It brought in an interesting crowd to the bar. The nights you were there, you had witnessed a group of stressed college kids out back, screaming their lungs out through Evanescence’s discography. Another time, a small group were hunkered down by the machine, seemingly on guard as their drunk friend sobbed through Adele’s Someone Like You and Roxette’s It Must’ve Been Love. You had been tempted to hop on in a session when a group of friends decided to have a 2012 night, from Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift to One Direction and Little Mix. It brought out a lot of emotions from the patrons of the bar and soon enough it became a regular fixture at the Hard Deck, that Penny had to whip out a reservation list just for the outside seating to keep people from fighting over the time limit each group has before the next can have their go. It somehow made the place even more chaotic, especially during weekends, but added more income so no one was complaining.

It became a problem when you and the rest of the Top Gun instructors gave in to the hype and had a go for yourselves. It started out as innocent, drunk fun. You and the instructors around your age were sick of hearing the oldies and their outdated playlists from the jukebox (Don’t let Rooster know about this) as they played pool, so you went outside and dared each other to grab the mic and pick a song that you used to cry to during your first heartbreak with the promise of a crumpled 20$ bill someone dug out from their pocket. From Lips to an Angel to The Reason to Perfect, your friends each gave their all for the sad bill. Determined to stand out, you decide on Taylor’s Teardrops on My Guitar as your magnum opus for the night. It was a perfect fit, and your friends groaned woefully as the nostalgia hits them. In your drunken haze, you wondered for a bit why you’ve avoided listening or singing this song for so long, but as the song continued, you figure out why.

—

It was 2007, the summer before college, and you had just gotten your dream iPod in pink as a gift from your grandparents for getting into Columbia. You already had a list of all the albums and singles you were going to download on the back of your physics notebook, and the first off that list would be Taylor Swift’s albums. It was nice that you were the same age, you could relate to each song if you tried hard enough, but your lack of non-fictional boyfriends and romantic conquests were a huge setback back then. You were halfway through your second listen when your grandmother asks you if you can bring the casserole she just finished making next door, and because you didn’t have the heart to say no after getting your iPod, you agreed and made your way to your neighbor’s house.

They seemed to have someone over, judging by the number of bikes strewn across the lawn and an inconspicuous blue Bronco parked in their driveway that you didn’t recognize. More reasons to drop off and go, you’d thought, so you rang their doorbell while you thought of a good excuse to speed off. No one responded despite the commotion you could barely make out from the inside, so with an exasperated sigh, you reached out to press the bell again.

You remembered freezing, with your outstretched hand retreating back to the handles of the pan as you made contact with the one who answered the door. He didn’t have blue eyes like Drew did from the music video, nor was he called Drew for that matter, but god, you found yourself breathless and in constant awe like Taylor when you realized who it was.

He broke out in a grin, greeting you with that wretched nickname he and his cousins gave you when you were young. Bradley Bradshaw— the boy that taught you how to hang upside down from the monkey bars at the park because your friends (his cousins) thought you were too heavy to do so, the boy you got so attached to every summer when he came to stay next door because he included you whenever the cousins played Pokemon cards or Super Mario on the playstation and would let you off easy and debt free whenever you played monopoly, the boy who shared your love for aviation and would drag you along with their family trips to the flight museums nearby, and it would take years more for you to realize but he was also the same boy you looked for in the sea of faces at school, in hopes to find someone remotely close to who he was, which just left you terribly single— was back, visiting from college. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, and the crazy beating of your heart as he dragged you by the hand inside to see the family should be the telltale sign that you were going to be ruined before you escaped to college.

Catching up after dinner, you learned there was a girl. There was always someone— he was interested in, confessing their feelings, seeing, crying over him. You should’ve gotten used to it at this point. Bradley was a light that everyone was just naturally drawn to. Maybe you could chalk up the blame to the angsty fanfic you’ve read earlier that day or to the sad Taylor Swift songs you decided to dwell on before you brought the casserole, but goddamn it stung. It hurt when it shouldn’t be hurting in the first place. Bradley was one of your childhood friends, the kind big brother you always wanted to have. You’re sure that if he was around more, he would’ve helped you scare away your bullies or have even posed as your date to prom so you wouldn’t feel as left out as you did. It was in between your third or fourth bite of the cherry pie Bradley’s aunt had given you for dessert when you realized you saw him in a different light now, and it didn’t take long for you to see that he didn’t.

Later that night, you found yourself clutching your teal guitar, Love Story’s chords long forgotten, blasting Teardrops on My Guitar on your alarm clock speaker at 10pm, with only the moonlight and your pink wallpaper witnessing your tear-stricken face.

–

“Oh my god, is Indigo crying?”

“She is, fuck. Hurry, we gotta record this!”

Before your friend could point the camera flash on your face, you kick his shin before whipping out your middle finger, turning away from them to hastily wipe the tears that betrayed you on your sweater.

Despite the waterworks, you were determined to finish the last line of the song perfectly, because this is the last time you’ll be singing this for the next thirty or so years.

“Drew looks at me,” you start, and the doors swing open to welcome an amused Rooster and the rest of the gang into your group outside.

Locking eyes with you, you sing, “I fake a smile so he won’t see,” smiling.

Yeah, at least the sting lessened to a quiet twinge now.

—

The oldies have infiltrated the karaoke machine once they saw how much fun you guys had that night. Soon after, they’d come in early and just play one round of pool before Fanboy drags you and Payback outside quickly, reserving the machine before the bar’s crowd comes in. People would think this is unfair because you were allowed in earlier and would have the advantage to hoard the machine all to yourselves, but they didn’t want to risk disrespecting you guys and buying a round for the entire bar so they kept quiet.

It wasn’t long till Rooster had migrated his trademark song from the piano to the karaoke machine, deeming that it was hard to remember the chords when he’s had a few drinks. You’d still have your turn singing throwback songs with the gang, but once Bradley gets a hold of the mic, you might as well head home because it’s either he sings five songs in a row or a five minute song (there’s no in between). It gets especially worse when he’s got alcohol in his system, the mans will hog the mic for himself. You once got into a fight because of it and it only ended when Hangman snatched it from both of your hands and used it for his own song, much to both your chagrin.

—

“No, absolutely not.”

Those were the last words you register before your phone gets snatched from your hands. Mere seconds ago, you were on Amazon, comparing prices of those bluetooth karaoke microphones that had built in speakers and had just added the highest rated one on your cart.

You’ve grown attached to the bar’s karaoke machine and would look forward to it after a long day dealing with your new array of Top Gun students. You found that belting out Fall Out Boy relieves more tension from your back than your regular chiropractic appointments so you’re determined to still have your karaoke session one way or another. But apparently, your best friend had other ideas.

“I’m relaxing, Bradshaw, but I won’t hesitate to kick your nuts if you don’t give back my phone.”

“Let me just—,” he mutters, tapping on your device that seems suspiciously like removing something from your cart.

You immediately spring into action and he raises his arms above your reach in response. Damn him and his height. You resort to climbing up his limbs, and when that didn’t work, you gave a mean pinch his side. This seemed to do the trick as he hissed, folding over in pain, and you take the opportunity to grab your phone back.

God, you were glad you were on your break and none of your superiors or students were around to witness two of their instructors tackle each other outside one of the hangars.

“I can’t believe you’d betray Penny like this, Y/N.”

“What the hell are you on about?” You ask, shooting him a mean glare while wiping his fingerprints off from your screen on your suit.

“You getting your own karaoke mic means you won’t go to the Hard Deck anymore to sing and that’s just incredibly selfish and I can’t allow that.”

“Well,” you start, “I wouldn’t be getting one in the first place if someone here plays fair and doesn’t hog the mic for himself.”

He scoffs. “You talking to yourself?”

You gasp, appalled. “How dare you. That was one time! It’s not my fault All Too Well’s ten minutes!”

“Uh huh,” he gloats. “I’m just gonna pretend we didn’t listen to the album together and I totally didn’t see that there was a five minute version you could’ve sung.”

This prompts a teasing smile from your lips. “Oh, so you were paying attention to the album. I thought you hated it because it was cheesy teen music.” You say, using air quotes while mocking how he had complained when you took out his Temptations cd from the Bronco’s stereo and replaced it with your new Red album the moment you got it from the mail.

“I had little to no choice on the matter, Y/N. You chose the longest car ride to play that album on repeat,” he responds exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

You smirk at the memory. You both were off that day and you persuaded Bradley to drive from base to downtown Los Angeles for this dumpling restaurant you saw on Yelp that offered an AYCE for their opening day. It wasn’t easy to get him off his couch during his offs (understandable), but you bribed him with the promise of a full gas tank and a car wash. He did sulk for a bit, but you knew he couldn’t resist free things (or you whining for that matter).

“Don’t distract me from the real issue here. Just don’t get that mic, Y/N. Fighting over that karaoke machine at the Hard Deck makes it more fun.” He says a matter-of-factly.

“Fun because no one has the balls to snatch the mic from you.” You grumble, checking your watch and seeing your break time was almost up. “Whatever,” you say in passing while wiping off some sandwich crumbs that stuck to your suit. “I’ll just order it when you’re not around,” you sneer, sticking your tongue out at Rooster as you start to walk back to the main building where your classes are held.

He catches up to you quick, a smirk on his lips. Does this man ever run out of comebacks? “You’re forgetting the fact that that’s my Prime account you’re using.”

You halt, appalled, your eyes following his figure as he ignores you and continues his walk. “I pay for my half, you ass! That’s our account!”

He doesn’t say anything as he looks back at you, only a knowing expression on his face. You know there’s no escape from this. Because when you’d try to order it later, he’ll just cancel it on his end when he gets notified of the purchase. Frustrating. “I hate you.”

He hums in response, and you try to suppress the tingly feeling you’d always get when he does that. “Still up for dinner later?” He asks when you reach his side.

You feel the weight of disappointment and dismay from your ancestors as you mutter a yes to the man before you separate ways. Doesn’t matter how much Bradley Bradshaw riles you up every chance he gets, you’d always say yes to him.

—

“Just let me take you to lunch, please.”

You had tried your best to keep a respectable distance from your superior but it got increasingly hard as Rooster grabbed your arm and situated himself in front of you, his bulky figure blocking your way. Getting caught was one thing, but having all the feelings for this man you’ve kept in a box stowed away in some hidden part of your head unravel because of how close he is to you right now was another issue you’re not ready to face.

In fact, mere days ago, the thought of him hadn’t even crossed your mind. Renewed determination and excitement coursed through your veins as you started your advanced flight training. You worked your ass off to get to this point, and it’s only a matter of time before you get your wings. That alone kept your head above water. You might’ve taken the long route with your engineering degree, but it surely did wonders as you sped through most of your earlier classes in training. Soon enough you’ll be doing what you’ve always dreamed of as a kid. And nothing will stand in your way to fly.

Well, you didn’t account for having Bradley Bradshaw temporarily stand-in as your flight instructor for a week, so that’s oversight on your part.

You had looked around, relieved to see the hallway was deserted, before you hissed, “You’re too close! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna assume the worst and I’ll be dead.”

“Let them.” You glared at him and he took it back immediately. “Okay, fine.” He had said, taking one step away from you. “Lunch, with me,” he repeated again, as if you hadn’t been listening to him ask for the past few minutes. “I’ll let you order anything you want off the menu. On me.”

He knew your affinity for free stuff, and you never wanted to pluck that knowledge off his head than right now. You sighed, resigning. “You’ll leave me alone after?”

“I–,” he’d stuttered, caught off guard. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do me like this. I haven’t seen you in so long. We gotta catch up.”

“It’s just,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s different now, Bradley. You’re my instructor and I’m one of your students—”

“Only for a week,” he interrupted, and you gave him a scowl. “Sorry, go on.”

Sighing, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I wanna go with you. It’s just that people might get the wrong idea when they see us outside and I’m this close to graduating and I don’t want anything to hold me back, you know?”

He noticed your anxious expression and he’d ran a hand through the length of your arm to comfort you. “I understand, you know I do.” Despite the thick material of your flight suit, his touch left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. The effect he had on you is daunting.

He paused to think for a second. “Hey, what about this. Let’s change out of these uniforms and then I’ll wait for you outside base. We’ll blend in perfectly. That sound good?”

A small smile had creeped into your face as you nodded gingerly. God, you missed him so much.

“I got you, don’t worry. Plus I already told some of my colleagues that you’re a family friend so they leave us alone.”

He probably meant that in a sweet, genuine way, but it still stung. You went through so many changes during the years you spent apart. You worked hard on your appearance and became more confident in the way you deliver yourself, something that you weren’t before. You’d never admit it but in some small part of you, you wished Bradley saw you like the girls he’d go crazy over.

You mustered up a tight smile for him. “Okay, See you in a bit.” You say before walking away.

A single thought remains in your mind: Still not good enough.

—

Lunch went surprisingly easy despite of what had happened earlier.

You’ve imagined this moment with Rooster so many times while you were away for college. Like what would your first meeting as adults would be, if you would ever cross paths again.

Would you have a meet-cute like the movies where you bump into each other unexpectedly, or where you’d trip and he’d catch you, literally sweeping you off your feet? And would it be a new beginning for both of you, finally seeing each other after years of being apart?

Would love just come naturally, fate tired from seeing you both struggle to see it?

Even if this isn’t as grandiose as what you’ve dreamed of, you and Bradley munching through breakfast for lunch and early dinner at Denny’s while catching up seemed like how things should be.

Just his mere presence made everything better (for your heart) and worse (also, for your heart) at the same time.

You didn’t tell him that running thousands of miles away from home didn’t do shit because all you’ve ever searched for was him and anything remotely similar to how he’s made you feel, nor how you’d always check next door first to see if that blue Bronco’s parked in the driveway again when you’d come home for breaks. Instead you told him good (boring) things about college, because those were the safest. It didn’t warrant any additional questions, questions that could prod at your already flaking defense and one wrong step could have him see how much you’re pathetically struggling to keep it up.

He in turn, tells you stories from college to his current naval career, and you listen. Or you try to, as you hyperfocus on how he looked; how this clean cut hair made him look more serious, far from the mop of curls he sported throughout high school and college to how his lips still looked plump and pretty, and you get reminded of how much you liked to sneak looks at them whenever he speaks from that one summer.

This is probably the closest you could be with him so you take advantage of it, marking the features you loved from the old Bradley that remained the same from the new ones you’d get to know from afar.

You manage to catch the important things: how attached he’s been to the California sun ever since he got stationed there and how he’ll take you there to visit once you graduate because he’s that sure that you’ll love it as much as he does, how he’s thinking of growing a mustache, and that he didn’t even consider taking up this job but he’s now happy he did.

He made a point that you know how proud he is of you for following your childhood dream like he did. He swore he’ll take care of you, making up for all those years he hadn’t been around.

You’d hate it later that night because you knew better, but after years of just bottling up all the feelings you felt for him, maybe today was the day you could indulge in the affection he gives you.

Even if it’s ill placed. After all, it would just be today.

Until you realized he meant what he said.

It got hard to remain level-headed in the mist, especially when he became the first person you’d want to call just to tell him about both exciting and frustrating things you got to do from training because you knew he’d understand perfectly, or when he had shown up late to your graduation because he drove for an hour to get you a big bouquet of peonies (your favorite), or when he took you to San Diego and introduced you to his friends who all welcomed you with fondness, finally giving you a sense of belonging and community in this stage of your life.

It was arduous to keep up when even after getting assigned to bases across the country, you’d randomly find packages of random food items that you’ve been craving mentioned in passing through facetimes and texts, or when he would have time to visit, you’d suddenly find that broken bedroom doorknob you’ve been ignoring fixed, the change oil light from your car finally turned off, and you’d always get dropped off in front of Target’s entrance while he finds parking in a busy lot.

Punishing to bear in mind when it’s been custom to have each other pick one up after deployment, when he trusts you enough to park his beloved Bronco at your place and even take it out for eventual maintenance checks, and when you’d lean on his chest when it gets too crowded and his arms find its way around you, tucking you in, and at once there’d be comfort in chaos.

This still isn’t what you hoped to be with Bradley; but you were given something greater, far more than that silly little crush you’ve ever daydreamed about, and suddenly, something you’ve been certain of ever since that day you handed him that casserole wasn’t as clear now. Risking all this for a confession of years of love and adoration didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Perhaps, this was okay. This was how things should be.

—

So you didn’t quite understand why you were fuming, and all that filled your head was hurt, hurt, hurt.

The scene unfolded like a usual Saturday night for everyone: Tipsy Rooster throws his hand across your shoulders, making you sway with him to the opening rhythm of Great Balls of Fire (his third song in a row), leaning close to your ear where his mustache tickles your skin and unsheaths a million goosebumps at its wake, to say that he promises, like pretty promises, to let you sing the last verse and chorus with him as a peace offering for hogging the mic yet again. And you believe him.

Not because the few drinks you’ve had impeded your better judgement, but because it wasn’t like Rooster to break promises. Neither a wash of alcohol nor adrenaline could waver that man’s conviction to a promise.

You relent, plopping yourself beside a warm Phoenix, who was busy playing an intense card game with Bob, Fanboy, and some other pilots. Through the windows, you could spot Hangman’s animated head bob along as he charms two women by the pool table while Coyote and Fritz played beside him. It had been a busy week for all of you back at base, so everyone was just out and about, eager to be distracted from the events at work.

You had felt yourself get dizzy after taking two swigs off your nth beer, so you closed your eyes for a bit, leaning your weight on Nat’s back as you listen to your best friend croon his heart out and have his karaoke moment. Music had always calmed Rooster down, and as much as you’d love to have your overdue turn to sing, you’re always willing to wait for him (even if you’ll never admit it out loud).

So when he finished the second chorus and the piano solo kicked in, you had willed yourself to come back to consciousness. It had been a while since you sang this song, and you’ve never shared a duet with Rooster before because both of you would just be too busy fighting for the mic. You might not have the best singing voice when tipsy but you’re singing with your best friend, and it was okay to be embarrassing with him.

But you never hear your name called, and you open your eyes just in time to witness everything. The door leading to the outdoor area opened and out it spat a woman you remember seeing in passing inside when you went to get a refill from Penny. She was beautiful and of course, she had eyes only for Rooster. Considering the recognition in her face as she saw him plus the sure steps he made towards her, you knew they have had history.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but she was laughing, obviously sending the fuck me gaze in Rooster’s way, and you could tell he was chuckling too by the careen in his shoulders.

The piano solo gave you an insulting background music as you watched tensed up. Knowing this song by heart, you count the seconds and notes while staring at the two of them.

‘Anytime now, Roos will bid her goodbye and he would call me next to him and we would finish this song together,’ you thought, assuring yourself. ‘He promised.’

Except when the solo ended, he pulled her close, put his arm on her shoulders, handed her the mic, and they sang together.

He didn’t even bother looking back at you. It was as if you weren’t there in the first place.

You should really lay off on alcohol. Something about it makes you act childish and irrational.

Because here you were, a grown woman, an Ivy League and Top Gun graduate, trusted to fly big expensive planes through challenging and stressful situations, yet all you wanted to do was to throw things and wail right then and there because you didn’t know how to quiet the pounding in your chest or to silence the reverberating words in your head: hurt, and in a smaller voice, that should’ve been me.

Despite the open around you, it felt like the air was getting punched out from your lungs, and you just had to get out. Standing abruptly, you forgot the drink perched on your lap and it spills, the cold liquid soaking through denim. Wanting to slip away unnoticed was far gone because your clumsiness just managed to attract unwanted attention from Nat and the rest.

A chorus of startled and worried questions erupt at your wake, but they get swept up in the night breeze as you squeeze past them, muttering something sounding like an apology while your feet takes you down the patio steps and into the sand of the beach, your boots sinking on the sand with your laden steps.

It seemed like the faster you run, your feet get heavier and harder to drag off the sand, making your dash to the parking lot achingly slower. The world was mute, the once noisy bar with all its music and chatter, even the relentless crashing of waves to shore were absent. The biting November wind clings to your frame and to the wet trails left on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying, but you just hope they didn’t spill when you were squeezing past your friends. They didn’t have to see how pathetic you really were behind your collected front.

But here now, by the unlit back wall of the bar where no wandering eyes could see you, maybe you could let some tears flow to keep the dam from overflowing again. You have always prided yourself in being able to keeping your emotions in check. With a job like yours you couldn’t guarantee a day or two where nothing unexpected occurs, no one gets hurt, or no one treats you unfairly, so you had to learn how to let your work be work, and not let it bleed through your personal life. Same as with Bradley. Your longing for him was met in this friendship and had let yourself get used to that. You knew to turn away when he spots someone that sparks his interest in the bar, you learned to tune him out when he raved about this person he met, you had a set of answers to give when he asks you advice on what to wear for a date or what gift to give.

Because your needs were being met. You have a best friend, a confidant, a partner in him. You have made a joke of yourself, your feelings to keep the man you loved close. You could sleep at night before. You were okay before. You could pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow like before, so why doesn’t it work now?

You cry for the wasted years of devoting yourself to someone who wouldn’t even bat an eye for you when occupied with others that haven’t, or wouldn’t even attempt to do things you’ve done for Bradley, to make him happy, to keep that fucking smile on his face, to keep that light in his eyes burning bright.

You cry for all the times you have rejected or ignored people that expressed interest in getting to know you because you were too enamored and convinced that no one could make up for what he was in your life. And you’re not wrong. No one could make you insecure like he does whenever you act or dress like what he says he seeks for in a partner but he’d still look the other way. No one could be as dense as he is. No one could make you cry about a fifteen year old song like he does and make you feel like your teen self isn’t as different as you were now.

You wonder if you could’ve just given the guy who pursued you for a month with clear intentions and a kind heart a chance, a date, a night to prove himself to you, would you still be crying uncontrollably with your hand muffling your sobs, the rough wood patchwork on a dark corner of the bar the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball as the years of regret catch up to you on a Saturday night?

Almost the entirety of your life devoted should be enough. It was time to quit Bradley Bradshaw.

Only it had to wait until sunrise to start. Because upon reaching the parking lot, you were smacked with a terrible realization: you rode with him to the Hard Deck.

You had sobered up from tears a little bit, but you feel another sob threatening to bubble out of your throat. Why were you so stupid?

You want to kick the Bronco’s wheels out of frustration but the baby didn’t do anything to deserve it (also because you had paid to get the car washed earlier that day). It was just an innocent bystander to your stupidity and unconditional love to its owner, so you drop down and hug your knees tight, shielding your face from the lights of the lot.

Maybe if you could sleep like this, you’d wake up back to this morning and this will all be a simple nightmare. And the exhaustion from the week and your sadness and anger were all too convincing for you to try it out, if it weren’t for the voice calling out your name in worry, the footsteps quickly coming towards you, and the strong arms that wrap around your frame, willing you to speak.

“Y/N, hey,” Bradley says softly, hand rubbing circles on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, m’kay?”

Managing to muster up some strength, you push him away, or at least a sorry attempt to. Your palms were no match against his hard chest, and they just slide down hopelessly to your sides.

Grumbling, you say, “I can do it myself.”

“Okay, careful.” His voice remained soft, devoid of any annoyance or exasperation. This annoys you more. You wanted nothing but to hate this man to the guts but he makes it hard by being like this, like he actually cares.

You refuse to meet his eyes but you know they’re on you, watching as you hoist yourself up using the concrete as leverage. He had his hand outstretched to catch you if you stumble, and for a second you were tempted to grab it, but you resort to the side of the Bronco to keep your balance and the hand retreats.

Training your eyes to the ground, to anywhere except his stupid face, you explain, “I just need my bag,” gesturing at the lump on the passenger seat of the car. “So I can just catch an uber home.”

“No, I’ll drive you home,” he quickly refuses, fishing out his car keys from his back pocket. You wanted to lunge and steal it from him, but that’s just going to cause unnecessary contact with him. It’s best to avoid touching anything of him because you don’t know what it’ll do to the wall you’ve hastily built against him.

“Don’t bother. Last thing I want is to ruin your chances in getting laid tonight.”

Your words earn a quick eyebrow furrow from him and a miniscule wave of satisfaction runs through you. And you figure it out: if you can’t be happy tonight, no one near you can be.

A desire to cause a cascade of anger through him continues to consume you but he stops there. Face still laced with concern, he shakes his head and sighs, “Alright, let’s get you home.”

You watch him as he opens your door and waits for you to climb in while you remained standing where you were.

“Y/N.” He says it with a tonality he almost exclusively uses at work, when he has to put his instructor hat on or when he has someone to reprimand. “Please don’t make me carry you inside.”

You want to say he wouldn’t dare, but you knew he could easily do it. And even if you scream bloody murder, people knew you two always bicker like this so no one would think anything’s amiss. So you glare at him before noisily climbing up his car and shutting the door on his face. Whether it may be through words or actions, you were adamant to express your frustration to him, to this car, to this entire situation.

You could tell by the slump in his shoulders as he walked to the driver’s seat that he was bothered by how you’re acting but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just want to leave him troubled as you are, with his heart wrung tightly he couldn’t breathe.

The next words come out after a while of driving quietly through dark, empty streets. He was letting you calm down but your mind was far from it. You occupy yourself by counting the streets left to cross before you reach your apartment from the passenger window, wanting nothing but to get the fuck out of there and sleep.

“Y/N,” he starts. “What happened back there? Did anyone cause you trouble? Tell me what they look like so I can tell Penny and Mav about it tomorrow.”

You were thankful you had your hands tucked in, arms crossed over your chest, because you were certain if it had been anywhere else he could easily reach over and touch, he would.

When he was answered with silence, he tries again. “Were you hurt, Y/N? What did they do to you? Please tell me.”

“God, shut up. You’re making my head throb even more.”

“I will when you answer me. Even Phoenix doesn’t know what’s up with you back there. She says you just got up and left.”

“Maybe it’s just that.”

“I know you enough to know that it isn’t. Something happened that made you this upset.”

“Why do you care so much, Rooster? Dealing with you is suffocating.”

His mouth gapes incredulously, and if the car was stopped in a light he would’ve stared at you in disbelief. “Wha–,” he stutters. “Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, Rooster? Like a bitch?” You snort. “I already told you earlier I just needed my fucking bag. I didn’t ask for you to come drive me home. I’m only here because you insisted.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I–,” “I don’t want you to go home alone and upset. I hate seeing my best friend like this and not being able to help. I’m sorry.” There it was again, best friend. An affectionate word, even an achievement to have for others, but you never had a word that triggers so much hate in you as much as that. It sends your temper bubbling higher.

You scoff.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. If you’re mad at me, at whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not letting you buy the bluetooth microphone. I’ll get you a new one personally as soon as we get home.”

Now you really laugh, insulted, like salt being thrown haphazardly on your fresh scars. You should’ve cut this man off ages ago. “All this, and the best you can think of is that I’m fucking upset over a microphone. God, I’m really seeing everything tonight, am I?”

“Then help me out, Y/N! I’ve been sitting here going through tonight and yesterday night and the last week, wracking my brain for anything I’ve said or did that made you this upset with me.” He breathes, trying his best to calm himself down.

In a leveled tone he begs, “Please tell me what I can do to make this right.”

“You actually saying that unprovoked just proves everything I’ve realized tonight about you, Roos. I just feel stupid now trying to convince myself that you weren’t dense and selfish when it’s really all about you, isn’t it? You only get bothered when someone lashes out on you. Then you self reflect. You only care about your feelings, about your happiness. You don’t give a shit about anyone else!”

“What? You know that’s not true, Y/N.”

“Knowing you forever says the opposite, Rooster. You have the world in your hands and God forbid anyone upset you and ruin your night—”

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry that I can’t read what’s on your mind! If you can just tell me what the hell I did that got you this pissed so I can apologize for it, instead of saying cryptic and hurtful shit that I know you don’t mean then we’d have a better conversation, don’t you think?”

“Wow, so now you’re telling me the things I mean and don’t mean. You sure you can’t read my mind, Roos?”

“I know you’d never say those things to me because you know who I am. You think I’m shallow? Okay. That I’m narcissistic, fine. But saying I don’t give a shit about anyone, about you,” he pauses. “You know better than that, Y/N. I know you do after everything we’ve gone through—”

“So now you want to compare the shit we did, shit we sacrificed for each other during this fucking friendship? Alright, I’m down. Go ahead.”

“What— no! Fuck, Y/N, please. I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to hurt me, making me feel the way I made you feel.” He pleads, his voice getting hoarse from all the screaming. “Just please tell me what you want me to do to fix this. Please.”

“I want nothing to do with you.” It came off so easy from your tongue it’s hard to believe you held this back for years.

It surprised him too, so much so that he gave up trying to make you admit you didn’t mean it. The certainty in your voice scares him enough to believe as soon as he heard it. “Why?”

“Because I fucking hate you.”

You see shock, anger, and sadness and all sorts of emotions you can’t catch because of the tears blocking your vision flit on his face quickly. With a morose expression, he shakes his head in disbelief, blinking some tears away, willing them not to fall. You knew he’s trying to think you didn’t mean it.

But now with tears falling freely, you know you finally do. “​​Because you make me become someone that I’m not and I hate it. You make me jealous, you make me spiteful of the girls that come near you, you make me hateful and bitter that I can’t make you smile like you do with people who barely know you. And I know that’s so petty and immature and I know better than that but you just make me stupid and irrational.

You make me dependent on you for things that I can do myself. I can drive myself home I can do my own groceries I can take care of myself when I’m sick but now that you’ve weaseled yourself in my life these things aren’t the same without you. I hate that I got attached to this fucking car that eats up gas so fucking quick. I hate seeing your stupid Hawaiian shirts you always forget to iron. I hate your stupid fucking mustache and how long you take to fucking shape them.

I fucking hate how I get so weak when I’m with you that I get all the feelings I know I should’ve given up on ages ago and I know, I have fucking known for years that you’ll never feel the same way I do and yet here I am. I hate that I can’t quit you after all these years I’m still here and I love you and I can’t do anything about it.”

You also hate that unlike the confession scenes in movies have the heroine crying but still look beautiful, you had tears and snot dripping on your shirt and jeans and you only found out when you tasted some while sputtering and spewing out all the words that haunted you for years on Bradley.

Finally everything was on the table. You’ve crossed the point of no return and instead of feeling relief you felt spent, exhausted, and widely aware that you don’t have strength to face your best friend anymore. In fact, you’re sure you just lost yours.

Tears have blinded you to what you were facing and you could barely breathe from the snot build up in your nostrils, so you pull up your sweater to wipe and sneeze into until—

BONK!

A searing pain erupts from a specific point on your forehead and you clutch it while curses flow from your mouth, tearing up again because it fucking hurt and it made your headache ten times worse. Bradley must’ve hit you with something and you’re mad but you also understand why he’d do that.

But as you blink some tears away you see him cradling his forehead as well, groaning and cursing in pain, mirroring your actions.

What the hell just happened? Did he just headbutt you?

Turns out you’ve thought that one out loud. “I didn’t, you dumbass. You keep on fucking moving.”

He grabs your face, encasing it with his big hands forcing you to look at him. You stare at each other for a second and after everything you’ve exchanged in this car you want it to last until it couldn’t, because you knew this would be the last time you’d have Bradley this close. Even if his beautiful features are marred with pain and frustration and other emotions you couldn’t name.

He groans, pulls on the sleeve of his thermal shirt and wipes the snot and tears off of your nose and mouth haphazardly.

And then he leans in for a kiss.

There was a blink, a split second of silence, before the chorus of voices erupt in your head: your five year old self disgusted that you’re kissing that snotty Bradshaw kid; a ten year old you guilty and scared that Ms. Carole will get mad at you for not asking permission to kiss her son; thirteen, appalled that you were basically making out with someone that’s clearly not Emmett Richmond from Legally Blonde; seventeen year old you screeching, screaming ‘FUCKING FINALLY!’ and immediately searching for a Taylor Swift song to accompany this moment; and a twenty six year old Y/N more confused than ever that you’d still end up here, living your adolescent fantasy instead of finding someone new and better.

Yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself mute. In the moment, yes, you were hopeless against Bradley’s lips, yours following his lead like a teenager on her first kiss because you haven’t had (or probably refused to get) enough practice to do this thing properly, but you found it graceless, like trying to walk in shoes that were one size too big— not quite right. Like you couldn’t give yourself fully to the moment because something hefty still lingers in the air, left unsaid.

So against your past selves’ wishes, you pull away. Looking down, you refuse to look at him, afraid that his eyes will confirm your worst fear. “Please,” you whisper nervously. “Please don’t kiss me because you feel bad. That’s… that’s mean.”

An exasperated sigh escapes Bradley and two fingers tilt your chin to face him properly. There wasn’t any trace of guilt nor contempt on his flushed face. Just pure exasperation for all the things you’ve done tonight but you can’t let yourself be so sure. No falling for anything without full certainty and a vocal confirmation. You had enough of your fair share.

“God, you’re the smartest girl I know but you’re also incredibly dumb. I kissed you to shut you up and let you know I do feel the same thing because I know if I just say it you won’t listen because you’re too fucking stubborn.” He huffs.

Locking eyes with you, he quirks an eyebrow waiting if you have another protest to make. If you weren’t in this situation, you would’ve laughed at the ridiculous irked face he’s making. Maybe he is telling the truth, you tell yourself. Maybe this time, it’ll be right.

Deeming your silence and waiting, parted lips as an answer, he says sulkily, “Now, can I continue this without getting interrupted?”

You hit his arm as you nod. Your lips meet again, the kiss deeper this time around judging by the arm that now encircles you, attempting to pull you closer to him but failing miserably.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbles.

“Language, Bradshaw, damn,” you chuckle, watching him slide off his seatbelt, putting the car on park and the hand brake on.

“My right foot fell asleep because I was stepping on the breaks this whole damn time.”

Now you really laugh. What a giant dork.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off as he reaches towards you and slides off your seatbelt. “Wonder whose great idea it is to confess feelings in the middle of a goddamn street.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply in between hysterics because he swiftly carries and maneuvers you around so you were straddling him, surprised at how comfortable it was. You never had him this close before and you sober up quickly into a mesmerized silence, just admiring how beautiful he looked this close, how the streetlight outside lands square on his face and you could see the speckles of green in his brown eyes, and how all of this is yours. God, saying that feels so foreign but right.

He lets your soft fingertips graze the contours of his face, from his lips to the tip of his nose before one finally settling lost in his curls and the other on the nape of his neck. You don’t know this yet, but he also had dreamed of this moment longer than he could remember.

Suddenly you get hit with a familiar wave of the longing in your pit for Bradley, only this time you can act up on it. So you did, crashing your lips onto his.

Like the other things you’ve imagined with him, this was certainly never in consideration. You’d imagine a spacious park, branches of a leaning tree lined with soft fairy lights that made both of you glow as he leans in, lips melding into yours perfectly as soft music crooned in the background. Instead you get a steamy Bronco two streets away from your apartment, and probably more odd locations in your place. Not that you’re complaining though.

—

You were going through some papers that needed to be graded on one of your students’ desk after class when you feel the presence of three amused pilots approaching you.

Even if you didn’t look up, you know by their steps that it was Fanboy, who took a seat in front of you, Phoenix, that sat next to you, and a snickering Hangman who opted to stand beside you, looming over your hunched figure.

“What did my kids do now?” You say, not bothering to greet them. Even if the students you had also took classes with some of them, you were adamant in calling them your children because despite of how much they annoyed you sometimes, you’ve gotten close to this batch and they to you. Some of the instructors would even ask you to sit them down and discuss about the mistakes they made in their other classes so you could work with them to do it better. Not without them holding you responsible when they act out (sometimes. It can’t be helped) of course.

“Oh nothing. They’re great, actually,” Nat replies. “We just wanted to see the beautiful face of our great Indigo today.”

Mickey pipes up. “Yeah, we didn’t even get to see you at lunch today.”

Moving onto the next paper, you say, “I was busy. But didn’t you guys visit my class earlier?” It was just Hangman and Fanboy casually walking across the back of the room, claiming to grab something very important (a random HDMI cord). They scooted out fast but not before getting a good look at your confused face. You thought you had something stuck to your teeth but you didn’t have your phone with you so you just tried to clean them with your tongue.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Uhuh. Need another cord?”

“No, we just need you to look at us, darlin’.”

You almost didn’t, half expecting Hangman to have a plate of whipped cream ready to smack your face, but food isn’t allowed beyond the cafeteria so you reluctantly raise your head to meet the expectant and scandalous looks on your friends’ faces.

No face smashing occurred, only a mesh of hollers, high fives, and nods of agreement.

“What am I missing?”

“Oh, nothing. We’re just happy you had fun last night with Rooster.”

“Took you guys too fucking long,” Mickey drawls, clutching his head in exaggeration. Phoenix joins him in agreement, grinning at you proudly like she’s your mom and you just got a medal for being a top student in class.

A sweat starts to break out of your forehead. You and Bradley didn’t tell anyone that you were together last night, hell, you didn’t even had time to discuss what you guys were now. The last thing you want is for people to make assumptions and you can’t tell them otherwise because you don’t know where you stand. ‘We just fucked all night in every hard surface you could think of, no big deal.’ won’t be an acceptable answer, especially when this reaches Maverick and Penny.

“Wha—,” you stutter. “I wasn’t with Rooster last night! Stop making up bullshit, Bagman.”

Jake just gives you that god awful smirk and nod combo that tells you he knows you’re full of shit right now.

You turn to Nat, desperate for your friend to back you up. ‘’Nat, I wasn’t with him last night I swear.”

She makes her way to your lap and hugs you sideways. You know you could always count on your wingman. “Oh, my sweet Indy,” she coos. “No need to explain. The same bruise you and Rooster have on your foreheads tell us everything we wanna know.”

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