#but not like this and not when it's a present out of guilt and inability to know me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catmiemy · 27 days

Text

Not All Change Is Bad (Lia Wälti x Reader)

Summary: Now that you know Lia has feelings for you, you have to figure out where to go from there.

The next morning you woke up exhausted, only having managed to fall asleep for a few minutes at a time. You were weirdly relieved when you checked your phone and it was finally an acceptable time to get up.

A/N: Thanks to the long weekend I actually finished this second part already. You can find the first part here.

This got a bit longer than I thought and I didn't even include most of the fluff at the end that I already planned out. So potentially there could be a third part focused more on happiness with a bit of angst. Let me know if you'd liked to read that. :)

Nadine was still sleeping soundly, so you didn’t have to deal with her seeing the mess you were. You headed straight to the bathroom, annoyed with yourself when you saw how horrible you looked in the mirror. There were dark bags underneath your red eyes, spots all over your cheeks from rubbing away all the tears and your hair resembled a bird’s nest from all the tossing and turning you had done.

You quickly went to work to make yourself more presentable. The last thing you wanted was for Lia to feel guilty when she saw you. You would be damned if you made this any harder for her than it had to be, and if the only thing you could do was pretend you were okay you would do that.

In your noble quest you completely forgot to take into consideration that to Lia’s eyes it would seem like this whole situation hadn’t affected you at all. She almost burst into tears when she saw how put together you looked, the only thing saving her from it, was Ana pointing out all the signs that you were actually not fine that were right underneath the surface of your carefully crafted façade.

The whole camp felt like torture to you and more than once you wished it was finally over. But every time you did you remembered that at Arsenal you would still see Lia, who could barely look into your direction anymore and darted away whenever you were anywhere close to her, almost every day. And back home Jessica was waiting for you.

Your girlfriend and you still hadn’t talked or even texted, which wasn’t too uncommon on Jessica’s part after an argument. Her go to reaction was to completely ignore you, while you usually did everything to get your girlfriend to forgive you, sending long, heartfelt texts, buying her small gifts, apologizing over and over again. You had never questioned if this was okay or healthy, and you didn’t really question it now, you just didn’t have the energy to do it, so you didn’t.

Every once in a while you remembered how you had completely ignored her call after you had asked to talk that night and were hit by a pang of guilt. You should reach out to your girlfriend. And you also should talk to Lia, make things easier for her. You should be fine with all of this, you should communicate more and better, you shouldn’t let this distract you from football, you shouldn’t feel like hiding away for the rest of your life.

As the days passed you became increasingly frustrated with yourself and your inability to do any of the things you should do. The only thing you managed to do halfway decently was keep up appearances well enough. Sure, many of your teammates checked in with you, but they accepted your forced smile and your fake cheerfulness as you assured them that you were totally fine.

Ana was a different story. She tried to push a bit harder, but every time she did, you sent her right back to Lia. “Please just make sure she’s alright, yeah? I’m totally fine, don’t worry about me.”

This did nothing to stop your friend from worrying, nonetheless she always listened to your request, well aware that the only person you really felt comfortable opening up to was Lia. Therefore Ana could only hope that as time passed the two of you managed to find your way back to each other again, maybe even as more than best friends. She still held out hope that you actually returned Lia’s feelings and just needed a little longer to figure that out.

As much as you had often wished camp was over when it actually was and you were boarding the plane to take you back to London, you desperately wanted to stay. Going back home meant you could no longer ignore the whole situation with Jessica and how horrible you’d been acting. It took every ounce of your willpower to force your feet to take you into the plane.

Another thing you dreaded was spending the flight next to Lia, although a small part of you also clung to some hope that the forced proximity would do you good, give you a chance to talk. However as you found your seat all that hope was ripped from you, in the seat that should have been Lia’s sat Noelle, smiling at you sympathetically.

All you could do to avoid breaking down right then and there was to sink down in your seat and blast music into your ears. Thankfully Noelle got the hint and left you alone.

Throughout the flight you did your best to keep your mind occupied with doing at least three things simultaneously. Nevertheless, the closer you got to landing the more your anxiety spiked. Poor Noelle was probably getting annoyed by your constant leg bouncing and fidgeting. Not that the gentle woman would ever say anything.

At the airport when you were slowly heading to the exit to catch a cab back to your apartment you were suddenly stopped by Lia’s voice, “Y/N, wait!”

With a racing heart you stopped in your tracks, turning to face your best friend. Although were you even allowed to call her that anymore?

Lia approached you with a worried face, picking at her cuticles, a clear indication to you that she was nervous. This hurt; you never wanted to get to a place where she was nervous to talk to you.

“I know things are weird between us right now and I really want to move past it, I just don’t know how yet. But…I still wanted to check in. Are you okay to go home? I know you left things with Jessica in a weird place and you looked almost scared on the plane and no matter where we stand I’m still always here for you,” Lia rushed out.

Your heart cracked and all the tears you had held back on this day so far gathered in your eyes, blurring your vision. How very Lia of her to still worry about you and ignore her own emotions and insecurities to make sure you were okay when you were the reason she was so miserable.

You shook your head and blinked harshly to chase away the tears, then you plastered a what you hoped to be reassuring smile on your face.

“That’s very sweet of you, but please don’t worry about me, I’m totally fine, and after all these years I know how to deal with Jessica.”

Pain flashed in Lia’s eyes and you kicked yourself for bringing up how long you had been with your girlfriend. Way to hurt her more!

She smiled back at you and you could only hope that your smile had been more convincing than hers. “Okay, but never forget that I’m still always here for you.”

And with a goodbye Lia walked away from you, leaving you with an aching heart. Now that you had spoken with her again, it was even more painful to go back to this weird place of not talking. You wanted to run after her, share a ride like you normally did, and maybe hide out at her apartment for the rest of your life so you never had to deal with Jessica.

In front of the door to the apartment Jessica and you shared you took a moment to hype yourself up. You could do this, you had done this about a million times. Maybe it had never been this bad, but you would just have to grovel a little more.

You entered the apartment, calling out to your girlfriend. Just as you expected you didn’t get a response. Maybe she wasn’t home! Even if that would only postpone the argument for a little while, you still wanted it to be true.

Sadly you were out of luck. You quickly found Jessica sitting on the couch, staring at her phone and completely ignoring your presence.

“Hi,” you greeted her awkwardly, your girlfriend still not showing any signs of having noticed you. “Look I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the phone and haven’t reached out since. This camp has been absolutely crazy.”

It was a weak explanation, and definitely not enough to get Jessica to acknowledge you again. To even have any hope of getting there you would need to apologize and beg. However when you were searching for the right words, you realized that you didn’t want to do it this time. You were tired of these same old patterns that always left you feeling like you weren’t good enough.

You weren’t someone that got mad often, but now you could feel all the suppressed feelings inside of you rapidly turning into anger.

“Can you just cut this crap out and talk to me like an equal human being?” You snapped at Jessica.

At least you succeeded in getting a reaction. She dropped her phone, turning to you, the surprise on her face quickly morphing into anger just as intense as your own.

“Excuse me?! Who has been ignoring me for the last ten days after not picking up the phone when it was you who suggested we talk that night? I think I have every right to be angry,” Jessica yelled back at you.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be angry, but acting as if I’m air is just plain childish! I said I was sorry and I also said that things have been crazy, but apparently you don’t care about that.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Okay then, what crazy thing happened that stopped you from contacting me at all? Did the monster under the bed steal your phone? Or did aliens project a force field around your camp, stopping all electronic devices from working?”

Her mocking only made you angrier, so without thinking about it if it was wise to reveal this to Jessica, you told her about learning of Lia’s feelings for you.

After that all hell broke loose, everything the two of you had kept inside for way too long spilling out in hurtful words, ending in a scream match that had neither of you even hearing what the other was saying anymore.

In the end it was you who said the fateful words, “I think it’s high time that we break up! Well it was probably high time years ago and we were just too stuck to notice.

“No, I don’t accept that! You don’t break up with me, I’m breaking up with you,” Jessica retorted.

By now most of the anger had drained from your body, you just shrugged your shoulders. “Whatever, I’m leaving.”

Once you were out of the apartment you just started walking; the entire palette of negative emotions fighting for the lead inside of you. Before too long you found yourself standing in front of Lia’s little house. Just the sight of the familiar building that had been your refuge so often in the past was enough to break down the emotional barriers you had carefully constructed over the last couple of weeks, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.

Lia had said you could still come over if something happened. So despite feeling more than a little unsure about it, you walked up to the front door and knocked. You needed her right now and if she would send you away you didn’t know if you could deal with it.

Of course there was no reason to worry, Lia didn’t miss a bit, ushering you into her apartment and holding you tightly while you cried your eyes out. You weren’t coherent enough to explain what had happened, but from the bits and pieces you managed to get out, she got the gist of it.

Somewhere in the back of your mind was some immense guilt for making Lia take care of you after everything, however it was drowned out by how safe you felt in your best friend’s arms. You wanted to stay there for the rest of your life, blocking out the rest of the world.

After your crying session you were hit by a wave of extreme tiredness, your eyes fluttering shut every so often. Lia gently massaged the back of your scalp, knowing you were prone to tenseness there, and it was making you even sleepier.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” She offered.

You should refuse, you should pull yourself together and leave Lia be, maybe call Leah to come over and check up on her after you had once again dumped your emotions all over her. You should be a better person and do that, instead you mumbled, “Yeah, I’d like that very much.”

The two of you got ready for bed. Lia insisted on it, you would have happily stayed on the couch in your regular clothes without brushing your teeth if it meant you didn’t have to move. There wasn’t any need for using a spare toothbrush or borrowing some clothes from Lia, you had left this kind of stuff here ages ago. It was just easier this way with all the impromptu sleepovers you had.

The two of you lay down on your respective sides of the bed, facing each other like you usually did to exchange some whispered words before falling asleep. You were already half asleep, not alert enough to stop yourself from mumbling, “I really really missed you, Schätzi. So stupid of me not to realize I also have feelings for you.”

You drifted off to sleep immediately afterwards, completely missing the way Lia went rigid as she heard your words, an onslaught of different emotions hitting her. The hardest one to deal with was the renewed hope she had mostly buried long ago. For years she had dreamt of you telling her that you felt the same way, she had played out hundreds of different scenarios of how it might happen. And Lia thought it would make her the happiest person on the planet.

However now that you had said the words, she was just scared. Scared that you didn’t really mean it, scared that you were merely confused by the emotional rollercoaster you were going through, scared that you were only clinging to her because Lia was familiar and comforting.

When you woke up the next morning the bed next to you was empty. For one blissful nanosecond you thought this was just a normal sleepover until all the memories hit you with full force. Shame and guilt began eating at you for putting Lia in this position, not only had you shown up here and made her comfort you after your breakup, you had also blurted out that you too have feelings for her at the most inappropriate time possible.

Not that it wasn’t true. The realization had been simmering underneath the surface for a while, not something that you were ready to acknowledge yet, but now that you had, there was no doubt left in your mind. So that wasn’t the problem, the problem was that it absolutely been the wrong moment to say it.

With a rapidly beating heart you finally got out of bed, determined to find Lia and apologize. You found her in the kitchen, staring into her cup of coffee. She looked dead tired, almost slumping onto the table. This only made you feel even guiltier. No doubt had your careless words cost your best friend some sleep.

Despite everything Lia still offered you a weak smile and got up to get you a cup of coffee. You tried to protest, but she simply waved away your words. Lia never trusted you to make your own coffee; she knew you had a tendency to make it too strong which then in turn made you a little hyper.

“I’m sorry,” you said at the same time as your best friend stated, “There are some things I need to say.”

You nodded, gesturing at Lia to continue talking; she deserved to go first and get everything she wanted off her chest.

The brunette took a deep breath and when she began talking it sounded rehearsed, making you wonder how early she had gotten up to prepare and practice this whole speech. “I thought about all this for a long time and as much as I want to be the one to support you through this breakup, I don’t think I can.”

“What you said yesterday before falling asleep…It was everything I’ve wanted to hear for the longest time, but I think it’s important that you take your time to figure things out and make sure that you actually mean it.”

You opened your mouth to assure Lia that you did, how could you not? But one pleading look from her was enough to shut you up. She wasn’t ready to hear it; nothing you could say would make Lia fully believe it.

“So let’s just take some time, yeah? This way you can work through your breakup and everything else,” the brunette concluded.

Once again you nodded, even if it wasn’t what you wanted at all. You totally understood Lia’s request for some time apart and you would give her as much as she needed. After all she had apparently been waiting for you for years, so this was the least you could do.

“I don’t want to kick you out, but I really believe this is what’s best for us in the long run. But I can help you call one of our teammates so you can stay with them if you don’t want to go home?” Lia offered.

She was clearly conflicted about this course of action, still worrying about you. Therefore you quickly shook your head, reassuring the midfielder that you were fine and already had a plan. “Please don’t worry about me,” you told Lia more than once.

However the fact that you got up after saying this and walked towards the front door still in your pajamas definitely didn’t help your case.

“You know you can get dressed and even take a shower first,” Lia said, trying to keep her voice light and joking, when in reality your confusion scared her. Would you really be okay?

After taking a swift shower you felt a little more like yourself and managed to convince Lia that you wouldn’t walk right into a disaster if she let you out of her sight.

Saying goodbye was awkward, both of you looking at each other, unsure what to do. You longed to hug your best friend, but you didn’t think that would be welcome right now, so you merely waved at Lia lamely and told her you would see her at training.

During your shower you had come up with a plan; you waited until you were sure Jessica would have left for work, then you went to the apartment and packed a bg. All of your teammates would have happily let you stay with them, but you didn’t feel comfortable going to any of them, so instead you headed to a nearby hotel.

The moment you closed the door of your hotel room behind you, you sank to the floor, breaking down completely. You had thought you had cried yourself all out last night, but apparently there was an inexhaustible fountain of fresh tears somewhere inside of you.

That’s how you spent the rest your day, crying in various places. At some point you moved from the door to the bed, staying there until you had to go to the bathroom, crying on the floor leaning against the bathtub for a good while.

It was a small mercy that you feel asleep pretty early, exhausted from all the crying and from beating yourself up mentally. You were so angry at yourself for how you had treated both Lia and Jessica, you should have been better!

The next morning you felt like you had a hangover, your head pounding. However at least you were in control of your waterworks again, so you were hopeful you wouldn’t start crying during training. After another shower and a quick breakfast you felt a little better, confident in your ability to pretend to be a normal human being for as long as you needed.

And that’s what you did, not only that day but also the following ones. You acted throughout the day like you were fine, when someone asked you how you were, you stated time and time again that you were fine, no matter how much anyone could see that you weren’t.

The biggest challenge to your composure were the sad looks Lia kept sending your way when she thought you didn’t notice. It hurt you on a visceral level that you were the reason she was so miserable. In reality that wasn’t why Lia continued to look at you like this, it wasn’t because you had made her unhappy, but because she hated to see you take so little care of yourself and quietly falling apart in front of her eyes.

Every day as soon as you could you would go home, declining every invite to hangout from your teammates, because as soon as you stumbled into your hotel room, the tears returned, and all you could do for the rest of the day, was lay in bed, cry and berate yourself.

How had you been so stupid and not noticed Lia’s feeling for you? Why were you so weak and pathetic and ran right to her side after your breakup when you knew this would only make it more difficult for her? Furthermore you also felt horrible for how you had left things with Jessica. Sure, your relationship hadn’t been good for a while, but she deserved more from you!

About a week later you were once again laying in your hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, hating on yourself when your phone rang. You planned to ignore it, like you had been doing for the most part lately, but it kept on ringing again and again. With a deep sigh you picked up without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello,” you croaked, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Y/N where the hell are you?!” Ana almost shouted.

Confused you started at the phone. “What?”

“Where are you?” Ana repeated a little slower, “I know you aren’t at home because the lovely Jessica told me as much and after doing some inquires I also know you aren’t with any of your teammates, so where are you?”

All of this could only mean one thing, Ana was in London and you really weren’t prepared to give up your plan of wallowing in misery to face her.

“I’m at a hotel. Happy? Now go and see Lia, I think she could use a friend,“ you replied, praying that this was enough to satisfy Ana.

You should have known that it wasn’t and you also should have known that your friend would figure out the only way to get you to tell her your location.

“You better tell me right now where you are or I’m calling Lia and tell her that you’re hiding out all alone in a hotel,” Ana threatened.

“Ugh fine,” you huffed angrily, letting her know what hotel you were staying at and your room number. Then you hung up the phone without as much as saying goodbye. If Ana was going to be like this, you sure as hell weren’t going to be polite.

You used the time you had until Ana’s arrival to make yourself look a little more presentable. It only worked semi-decently and the traces of your most recent breakdown were still very much visible on your face when you heard the dreaded knock.

“Oh Spatz,” Ana sighed when she laid eyes on you, guiding you carefully over to the bed and basically pulling you into her lap.

To your great annoyance the tears took this as an invitation to start falling again right away, and it took a good while for them to stop.

“Y/N what are you doing?” Ana asked you gently once you had calmed down.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m doing my best to give Lia the time she needs,” you explained.

Ana tilted her head to the side, studying you intently. “Time for what exactly?”

“To get over my stupid behavior, to figure out if she still wants to be with someone as horrible as me, to heal all the parts of her heart that I’ve hurt. Take your pick,” you replied, the anger for yourself making your voice harsh, almost hateful.

“Oh Spatz,” Ana said once again, reaching over to tuck a strand of her behind your ear. “You’re being way too hard on yourself, just because you didn’t handle everything perfectly and made some mistakes along the way doesn’t mean that you’re a bad person”

“And I can tell you that that’s not what Lia is thinking at all. She didn’t propose this time apart because she needs to figure things out. She knows exactly what she wants, she has known for years. You on the other hand just got out of very long term relationship. Lia wants you to take enough time to deal with that and process your feelings before you jump into something new. She’s waiting for you to be ready and at this rate you’re never going to be. You can’t just ignore everything, Y/N!”

It took a lot more reassuring on Ana’s part until you could even begin to believe her. Thankfully your friend was very patient and kept telling you the same things over and over again until a small seed of hope was planted inside of you.

She didn’t leave it at that though, Ana also helped you make a list of things you could do over the next few weeks to help you process everything. Journaling was on the top of the list, as ws eating regular meals and not spending too much time in bed. Furthermore you vowed to contact Jessica and figure out how to proceed with your shared apartment, and on Ana’s insistence you promised to talk to your teammates more and spend time with them instead of holing up by yourself all the time.

You actually followed this list meticulously, and made sure to give Ana regular updates. Especially once you got the sneaking suspicion that she in turn informed Lia how you were doing because the midfielder looked more and more relaxed every day. The first time she smiled at you again your heart skipped a beat and you felt like a lovesick teenager. Then slowly Lia stopped keeping her distance, you still didn’t talk just the two of you but being part of the same group conversation became a regular occurrence.

After about three weeks you gathered all your courage and decided to ask Lia if she wanted to have coffee. It was a weird feeling that something that used to be the most mundane thing ever made you want to jump out of your skin. Doubts were flying around your mind as you walked towards Lia. The big smile that appeared on her face as she saw you definitely helped to make you feel a little calmer.

“Do you want to get coffee?“ You blurted out, mentally face palming at your lack of eloquence.

Lia chuckled, finding exactly this awkwardness endearing. „Yeah, I’d love to,“ she replied to your relief.

After training you met up at a coffee shop you had gone to a million times in the past, but this time felt entirely different, you might as well have been on another planet.

Once the two of you had found some seats and ordered your beverages, Lia looked at you expectantly. You had this all planned out, but now your mind was completely blank and you couldn’t think of a single thing you wanted to say.

Dejected you buried your face in your hands. “Man I’m so bad at this. Sorry, Lia!” You moaned.

Lia gently tugged your finger away from your face, holding on a little longer than necessary. “This isn’t a test, Y/N, just start with why you asked me out for coffee and then we’ll go from there. I don’t expect a perfectly rehearsed speech.”

You did expect that from yourself though because you knew Lia would have been able to deliver one. Sadly you were once again a disappointment to yourself, so there was nothing else to do than follow Lia’s advice.

“I guess the main reason is that I missed you. So much that it’s sometimes difficult to breath and if there’s one thing I know for sure by now it’s that I can’t imagine a future that you’re not part of. I can’t believe how stupid I was not to realize that ages ago.”

At this Lia huffed unhappily, she didn’t like the way you put yourself down at all. Despite this she didn’t interject, she didn’t want to stop your flow of words, knowing how hard it would be for you to get back into the mindset of sharing so freely, even with her.

“So often I was happy to get out of the apartment Jessica and I shared to spend time with you. When something good happened or well I guess also something bad you were always the first person I wanted to share it with. Nothing makes me happier than to see you happy and when you smile at me my entire world lights up. I can’t believe that I didn’t realize that you’ve been more than my best friend for the longest time.”

“And I know three weeks probably doesn’t seem like enough time to get over such a long relationship, but the truth is I’ve been finished with that relationship for a long time, and I think so has Jessica. We just stayed together out of habit. And don’t get me wrong, there’s still some things I need to do, like have a long and honest conversation with her, but I really want you back in my life. I completely understand though if you’re not ready. That’s totally valid of course…”

You would have continued to ramble if Lia hadn’t stopped you by gently pressing a finger to your lips, her eyes shining with love and warmth.

“I think we’re ready for that too. Not start a relationship right away, I need more time before that and I think you do too, but just things like this. Spend time together, hang out, slowly figure out together how our new normal is going to look like. Does that sound okay?”

“That sounds absolutely perfect,” you responded.

Not too long ago you had lain in a hotel bed in Switzerland scared because things between you and Lia would never be the same again, now you were filled to the brim with happiness and hope because things would never be the same again. Just the thought of how your relationship with Lia was going to look like made you feel excited. It was everything you’d never dared to dream of.

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #lia wälti imagine #lia wälti x reader #lia walti imagine #lia walti x reader

457 notes · View notes

setsugekka · 1 year

Text

❥8 degrees (m)

↳ hyunjin loves so many things about you, and your willingness to placate his adventurous streak is certainly one of them.

hwang hyunjin x fem!reader — established relationship, explicit sexual content [2,3k wc] cws: penetrative sex (unprotected), hyunjin has a big dick, exhibitionism, dirty talk/praise, soft & they are in love.

Hyunjin liked having you in places he had no business taking you.

You always knew it was kind of his thing. It started as a quickie at home knowing the guys were coming home within the hour, and as time went on, Hyunjin kept cutting it closer and closer to their projected arrival time until eventually they did come home during a romp in the sheets together. The two of you weren't walked in on and no one was none the wiser - but you suspect that scenario changed Hyunjin in some way. Sometimes kinks have a funny way of unmasking themselves, even if by accident.

Then it was the dance studio one late Thursday night that he was practicing by himself. You brought take out and some small iced coffees knowing he was intending on making it a long night but you apparently didn't have any concept of exactly how long. The thought comes and goes quickly while he has the front of you pressed against the cabinet; clammy, sweaty fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

And there was also the time in the van - the van you have no business ever being in for any reason at all but a text from Hyunjin asking you to come help him bring some things in turns into legs dangling off of his marginally toned arms, teeth grinning into the skin on your neck.

So now, when you're asked to accompany Hyunjin anywhere, in the back of your mind you know what to expect.

"Oh good, you're right on time," Hyunjin says, darting up from his chair and getting the door from behind you as you carefully set all of the numerous items in your arms onto any available table space. "You should have called me to come down" he adds, watching you struggle with your hands full.

"Nah it's fine, I had it," you answer, shaking blood flow back into your appendages and looking up at him, "so how's it going?"

"Good, fine...I mean, it's going."

"So not particularly good or fine then."

"Yeah, not really."

He'd been working on something of his own for a few months now, and spent many a late night in the studio alone on top of all of the other responsibilities he had. In the beginning, he allowed you to accompany him, but as time went on and his inability to finish his project became stifling, the excuses for why you shouldn't come became more and more common, and less and less truthful. It was shame, and you knew that - you just didn't know how to fix it.

You leapt at the chance, when he finally invited you back.

Hyunjin sits back down in the chair, surprisingly large and spacious for just being a rolling desk chair - but suppose that is the luxury life of a successful entertainment company. You watch the way he stares daggers into the screen in front of him, a display of colorful lines and numbers and gadgets everywhere that you were sure you were never going to understand the intricacies of. Watch the way his eyes dart around as if trying to read actual words on a page but in an entirely differently language he was unfamiliar with. His arms cross. He looks sexy, and you feel a little bad for thinking that because you know he's struggling in the present moment but you can't help it.

"You should eat, babe."

As if your words break him from a trance, he seemingly snaps back to present day - raising an eyebrow toward you and rolling himself over to where you sit on the couch off to the side of him.

"I'm not too hungry, I’ll eat later."

"Hyunjin…" It's more of a disappointed, sort of accusatory tone than you meant, because you know he doesn't need the guilt of upsetting you on top of everything else. "Please, make sure you take time to eat tonight."

"I will, I promise," he responds, slightly pouting towards you and setting his chin down into his palm. "Come here, I missed you."

You set your styrofoam take out box to the side, carefully wiping your mouth with a napkin before making your way over to him. Hyunjin pulls you into his lap - legs to the side and wraps both arms around you and yours, squeezing you tightly before dipping one of his hands down to the hem of your dress. "It's 8 degrees outside tonight," he says questioningly, with lips pressed into your shoulder, and fingers slipping under the aforementioned hem to toy with the smooth skin there under.

You kind of knew that the recording studio was on the proverbial list. You came prepared after too many evenings of fumbling with tight skinny jeans under time constraints.

"Turn around."

Hyunjin's voice has already dropped when he whispers the words into you, huskier and more serious than he had been the moments before when he was teasing you about the temperature outside - allowing you to stand for just a moment before seating yourself back onto his lap with a leg dangling on either side of his now and arms circled around his shoulders. He doesn't waste time pulling you into him, pressing plush, pink lips into yours a bit harder than you expected for how early into the evenings activities you thought you were - but it appears that Hyunjin had every intention of hurrying things along - carefully gnawing at your bottom lip as his hands make their way to your behind, pulling the fabric of your dress up and away only to make another discovery that actually takes him so far back he physically pulls himself from you to look at you.

"No panties?"

It's almost a gasp, you like that look on him. You'll have to elicit that again somehow.

But you simply smile and pull him into you again, to which he happily - and much more hungrily this time - obliges. Hyunjin firmly plants his palms onto your ass again, this time digging blunt fingernails in to pull you closer against him and you can feel that his erection is already pressing into the confines of his sweat pants - and now your exposed core. Your lips part from his and exhale a breathy moan into his and he takes a moment to simply watch the way you fall for him all over again - his eyes darting all across your face just as they had been on the screen only minutes prior but this time he's taking you in - all of your best attributes and expressions and sounds.

You know this is his element, and you know he can't hold out too long.

"Stand up," he whispers, lightly nudging you to stand up off his lap but only long enough and with enough space for him to slide his pants down to his thighs and expose himself - pulling you back down quickly by the waist. He watches as you hover over him, the fabric of your dress bunched up in your fists to each side of your hips as if doing the lewdest curtsey before descending down onto his length.

Hyunjin doesn't pull you down into a seated position - he knows better. He's very aware of how big his cock is - length in particular - being an issue on occasion, and the lack of foreplay this evening not helping matters. He simply holds you by the waist, in place, until you take it upon yourself to move.

Feeling full was an understatement. You enjoyed watching his face as you excruciatingly slowly made your way down his shaft, centimeter by centimeter sinking onto him knowing he desperately wants you to take every inch right then and there but also reveling in knowing that you can't - that most people can't. It turned both of you on knowing how big he was.

"Please move." Is the first thing out of his mouth, and you're not fully in a seated position yet for all of the previously mentioned reasons, but you pull off of him slightly so that you can press back down him - despite the fact that the weight and motion on your thighs burns only a few movements in - it's worth it to watch the way Hyunjin comes undone beneath you, fingers digging into your skin again and now actually trying to pull you further down onto his cock - because he feels like he's going crazy. Because he feels an inhuman desire to be bottomed out in you in that moment. "Can you take it?" he whispers into your mouth, wrapping lithe arms around your body to slowly pull you the rest of the way onto his length, and you brace yourself for what might be evening-ending pain if you're not ready for it yet. He watches every movement your face makes as he does so - carefully holding you in place and taking you in as he seats you flush onto his lap - finally able to bottom out inside of you - and it's a sigh of relief for both of you instead of a disastrous yelp and end to the fun of the night (which isn't foreign to either of you, either.)

"See baby? You can take me," Hyunjin groans into your collarbone, ever so slightly angling his hips up and pressing even further into you than what flush on his lap grants. It hurts - slightly. It hurts in the same way that feels intriguingly good - teetering on the edge of excruciating. He pulls out only a few centimeters before pushing back up and into you - a slow and hard grind again - using the strength and leverage he has on your body to pull you onto him as much as he can. He whispers into your skin again, "you take me so well, you're taking it all," and it's the way that his voice sounds when he's so desperate for your body and the release you'll grant him that causes your walls to clench around him. And he notices. Taking the opportunity to pull you down with more of his strength again.

At no point is he necessarily fucking you - at least, not in the typical sense that someone would expect when hearing the phrase. Hyunjin is testing you. Hyunjin is seeing how much of him you can take and how far he can go before you have to tap out. It's definitely a power move - an ego thing, but you're happy to oblige because having him inside of you like this is absolutely heavenly.

It's almost involuntary, the way your hands press down and against his thighs in an attempt to create distance between the head of his cock and your cervix, but the pressure he applies to your insides makes you relentlessly milk his length even with little movement, and he feels every throb of your needy cunt - kissing and smiling into your neck and chest as he continues to ever so carefully pull your tiny body onto all of the inches that under normal circumstances you may never expect to be able to take into your body - but the way your pussy aches for him to move, sopping wet around him despite barely any actual stimulation to you tells the both of you that Hyunjin must be a perfect fit after all.

"Hy-Hyun-" you finally manage to whimper out, trying to get leverage to grind into his lap or against something that will give you actual friction despite the fact that he has you firmly wrapped into his arms, and he realizes immediately.

"I know baby," he answers, dropping his arms from you and allowing his hands to rest gently onto your hips in the event that he'll need to help. You quickly begin moving - and it's a slow pace at first but not for long at all - the previous stimulation surprisingly doing a number on your desperate need to cum. You grind into his lap hard, quick, pretty fingernails clawing into his shoulders in an attempt to receive the leverage you need to get yourself there and Hyunjin simply watches in awe - bottom lip pulled between his teeth and the occasional moan escaping from him. You moan his name again - sort of - as much of it as you can get out and he snaps to attention, pulling himself forward with chest against your own, hands now pulling your hips harder into his lap than before in an attempt to help get you there.

"H-hand, fuck," is all you can get out before you drop your head back but it's all the direction he needs, bringing his dominant hand around to the front of you and pressing sloppy, aggressive circles into your clit - desperate to watch you cum and much to both of your surprise it doesn't take long - much less time than usual - before he hisses a cuss as he feels your cunt vice grip his cock as you cum into his lap, desperately trying not to cry out but failing in somewhat spectacular fashion. You'd have thought that you would be better at fucking in public spaces by now but turns out you might only be getting worse at it. Hyunjin snaps you back from the noise concern, taking your hips into his hands with a rigid grip of his own and fucking you hard through your orgasm while also chasing his own and it doesn't take him much either - "fuck, fuck, I'm-" but the words are choked back from ever leaving his lips, one of his arms coming up your back and gripping onto your shoulder from behind to give him the leverage he really wants to fuck his cum into you the way he desires to, and you feel every stroke and throb as he releases deep - once again pulling you down to take absolutely every bit of him that you can into yourself.

It's a few moments of heaving chests and heavy breaths before Hyunjin finally lets go of you and allows you to create any sort of space between the two bodies, half-lidded, completely fucked out eyes eventually finding your own, and he only smiles before leaning forward and resting his head lazily on your chest.

"I'll eat now."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask (⌒‿⌒) —this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2. i think this is one of the first things i ever wrote nearly three years ago lol

1K notes · View notes

uzis-dopeaf-hat · 17 days

Text

Analysis of Nuzi in Episode 7

[MAJOR MURDER DRONES SPOILERS]

Okay! I've been wanting to rant about these two for ages so I'm happy to get this out haha. I'll try to make this post a little more comprehensible than the last one (no promises).

I'll try to keep this in chronological order.

So before I move ahead, let me get this out of the way.

N still cares about V, but I don't think he's thought about her in a romantic sense since at most, the end of episode 3. He absolutely sees her as family and deeply cares for her. Hence why he immediately starts freaking out and attacking the rubble blocking the elevator shaft.

He is desperately trying to get his family back.

So desperately that he unintentionally hurts someone else he immensely cares for.

He forgets about Uzi's condition in his blind panic, but upon remembering he becomes almost ridden with guilt. Uzi likely already feels terrible because of the loss of V and not being able to do anything to help N since she physically is unable to at this moment. It seems N understands this and tries to remedy this by telling Uzi "It's okay," and apologizing profusely.

He doesn't want Uzi to put anything else on her shoulders and backtracks so fast here.

And when Uzi tells N she's sorry, for both N's loss of V and her own inability to help N get back up the elevator shaft, she sounds so upset for N. There's nothing she can do for him here, and she knows this.

It's almost amusing how N gives "Tessa" a death glare here. As the series has gone on N has become less and less of a pushover, no doubt because of Uzi. If N had run into Tessa in any episode from 1-3. it would have been easier for Cyn to manipulate him.

But because she waited so long, N has built such a genuinely healthy and stable relationship with Uzi. One where both parties mutually care about each other and treat each other like equals (which should be normal but of course, this isn't the case for N or Uzi).

But something else to be noted here is the regression of both Uzi and N's characters at this moment.

Because while N is definitely making progress on standing his ground, and letting his own opinions be known, he is still faced with a non-choice. Instead of immediately deciding to question his old friend, he tries to compromise.

It's an old behavior met with an old friend vs a new behavior met with a new friend. He is trying to still somewhat appease "Tessa" while making it known that he isn't willing to hurt Uzi. But he never discusses this with Tessa herself aside from this moment, where he does so with Uzi present and out of the loop.

Let's take a look at Uzi's reaction when N tells her they won't hurt her.

She is scared.

Her eyes dart back and forth between the duo in front of her, putting her hand up in defense to try and subconsciously protect herself.

She doesn't understand what is happening, but she isn't stupid. She knows this means something happened- something regarding her, that's been decided on without her knowledge or input.

And with how much we like to joke about how dopey N is, he does seem very emotionally intelligent at times, especially here. He realizes his mistake immediately, his placating expression of trying to reassure Uzi drawing back as he drags his hand back, startled at her negative reaction.

After the solver accidentally activates from Uzi (unsure if Cyn activated it on purpose or if Uzi herself activated it by accident because of her distress- I can see both being factors), N tries to reach out to her. To bring her back to his side, to him.

He holds his palm upwards to her, physically trying to tell her 'I am here, with you, let me help.' And as he steps towards her, she moves away from him.

Uzi's trust in him has been damaged. She is scared and instead of letting N help her, or allowing him to try and explain what's happening, she hunches over and guards herself from him. She isolates herself, their relationship crumbling like the cave around them.

And N? Once Uzi is out of his view? His hand switches from welcoming to pleading. As in, he reaches out to her, trying to get her back even if he doesn't actually do anything to make it so. He is reeling from what he's done to make her feel like she can no longer trust him, to come to him for his aid. His demeanor is now 'Please wait, come back, don't leave me, I am sorry.'

Maybe not exactly those words, but it's obvious that he doesn't want her to leave. So much so that he forgets to even protect himself (or even "Tessa") from the debris falling around them.

When N wakes up, he immediately tries to free himself and desperately calls for Uzi.

And yes, Uzi is his first thought. He doesn't know where she is, or if she's okay, but his first instinct is to find her, because 'is she okay? Where is she, where are you?' is definitely what N is thinking when trying to find her, even though he can't move.

N is distressed, and after not being able to attract Uzi back to him via shouting, he gets ready to saw off his own arm.

He isn't just saying "I deserve this," because he chopped off Uzi's arm in the last episode, although that is part of it. He's saying he deserves this because he drove Uzi off, didn't confide in her, let her know what was happening, and scared her off in the process.

He is also sawing at the arm that he had held Uzi's hand with -- once again, the same hand that he sliced off to try and stop the solver. Interesting parallel there (at least it's another thing they have in common...?). His hand is absolutely crushed. That's not an accident, the team deliberately shows this -- and this is the result of N's actions (or lack thereof).

...sucks that both hands that had held each other are now destroyed (that's not me trying to be philosophical, just me being sad).

Cut here, and N is immediately ready to tell Uzi what he's learned, sprinting to find her. Probably due to the fact that he's discovered that his crush's mother is still alive but...

When told not to inform Uzi of Nori's existence by the woman herself, N upright denies her request; he's learned from his previous mistake and that lying (via omission) is not something he's going to do, especially not with Uzi.

And while certain information may hurt Uzi, he never wants what happened with Uzi to happen again. He doesn't want her to be afraid of him, or unsure of his intentions because N just wants to help and support her in any and every way he can.

He only relents that he won't tell Uzi, as long as Nori does. This is a bit different from the situation with "Tessa" since A) Nori is Uzi's mother, she really should be the one telling Uzi about her maternal status, and B) He is expecting her to actually inform Uzi of this. Not a "maybe, if needed," situation, a "you can wait until you're ready, but you will tell her," situation.

Back with "Tessa," N finally confronts her, giving her one chance and one chance only.

And Tessa, not used to this new version of N, does not heed his warning, and is promptly dealt with.

N is pissed... and it makes sense as to why. "Tessa" is attempting to force N to kill his best friend, the first one to really talk to him after who knows how long of being stuck with V ignoring him and J berating him.

Uzi has her own bite, but it's never in a way meant to harm or insult N. That's just how she is, and she and N have an excellent bond as the series moves forward.

Tessa is jeopardizing this, mocking him, and calling him "cute," and even tries to monologue to him. But N doesn't let her, because she's already made him hurt Uzi enough and he's at his last leg here. He's done.

And he's still shaken from killing Tessa.

He went full disassembly mode, maybe to make it easier, to kill her.

He is actively struggling, breathing heavily, and having to use the blade he beheaded Tessa with to hold himself up.

Despite this, when "Uzi" grabs at the patch, he snaps out of his stupor to address her. Trying to cope with what just happened. He calls her "buddy," which he really only calls her once in episode three when referring to both of them as "dapper buddies."

Just something interesting to point out, since Cyn took control of Uzi immediately after N "got rid of her body "killed" her. He's called Cyn "buddy," before (although, he called the birds trying to kill him buddies as well, so not sure how that pans out).

When he says it here it almost feels like a coping mechanism. Trying to take care of his loved ones in any way he can. Also, note how he still has an 'x' as an optic. Likely due to the stress he's been put through.

Once he somewhat collects himself, he attempts to tell Uzi that all he needs is her, and for them to stay together.

Their short time away from each other did not favor them. N admits to both himself and Uzi that he doesn't like being away from her and that he needs her to be by his side.

And Uzi definitely could've used him when she found the recording of her mother.

It's a bit harder to analyze Uzi's moments since a lot of it is just herself dealing with her own issues. This is still important, but not a lot of it deals with N, aside from the fact that, yes, N being here would've been preferable (unless I missed some stuff in the middle of this episode).

Cyn reveals herself, having taken control of Uzi, and we really see how sinister she can be.

Make no mistake, that is indeed a heart around Uzi, formed with Cyn's... claw... like appendages.

This is also deliberately put here by the team because they do not want us to doubt N's feelings for Uzi (it gets a lot more heavy-handed, too).

But the most important part here is N's reaction to seeing Uzi. When Cyn turns and shows Uzi's face, N visibly falters, expression growing more upset. He doesn't shoot her. Cyn notices this and smiles because she now sees the advantage she has over N.

And boy, does she take advantage.

This is probably my favorite part of this entire combat scene. N tries to essentially threaten Cyn here from further hurting Nori, trying to get her to back off.

Except, Cyn sees this as an opportunity to toy with him.

Maybe I'll one day do an analysis on Cyn, but she takes active pleasure in seeing N's suffering. When he holds his blade to her neck, he actually takes a moment to look at Cyn in the face, waiting for her next move.

And Cyn grabs that blade and slowly starts jabbing it into Uzi's neck. Because this is who N is now seeing: he is seeing Cyn hurt Uzi and he doesn't know what to do.

You see him visibly gasp, as he notices what Cyn's doing, and is still unable to make himself move (unless, of course, N is now actively trying to get the blade away from Uzi, but it doesn't seem like that's what's happening here).

Scratch that, while it's not immediately obvious, there are minuscule movements of the blade after Cyn starts stabbing Uzi - like N is trying to get it away from Uzi's neck while keeping eye contact with Cyn. He may still be seeing Uzi instead of Cyn at this moment (likely struggling between the two).

Something else to point out is that N is shaking even before Cyn grabs the blade. If you look at the tip of the weapon it's easier to tell. Again, chalking it up to not wanting to actually hurt Uzi.

This is a very nice parallel back to episode three. Aside from the hand-chopping part. Lots of limbs have been lost recently.

Ignoring the fact N was just raining fire down on Uzi, which is one of two times (don't quote me on that) he gets properly lethal, he tries hard here to not hurt her- almost like he's trying to get Uzi back in control.

It's hard to see here, but N is actually smiling as he holds Uzi's hand. Probably similar to what he does later - he is trying to remind Uzi of herself. Aside from the eyes, it feels like Uzi is reacting to this, looking surprised, before Nori takes her hand off to stop Cyn from creating more pockets of voids and closing the current ones.

But Cyn isn't done yet.

Once again, she uses N's affections against him to save herself. But in doing so, she allows N to finally crack through to Uzi, even if not by much.

It's comical that this is what helps Uzi gain control again, although what else would we expect? Even so, probably another favorite moment of mine.

Again, if anyone was doubting Nuzi... the team cannot get more obvious than this. Until we get an outright verbal confession... which is yet to be seen, sadly enough.

Unsure if N knew this would help Uzi or if he just wanted to let Nori know about him and Uzi before she died. This may just be him being lovesick for his possessed girlfriend.

Jokes aside, a lot of people took this as N saying they've been dating since episode five. I don't... think that's necessarily the case. I keep seeing the phrase "she fell first, but he fell harder," when discussing Nuzi and honestly? Yeah, he did. But dating since before episode six? That doesn't make sense, since we've been following their relationship since episode one, and it's not like it's irrelevant to the story. It's actually a huge part of Murder Drones, romantic or not, so any developments like the two dating would make more sense to happen in front of the audience and actually be addressed.

I think this is more of him sort of declaring his love for Uzi, in the most N way he can.

Ahh... although the dating part may be a bit irrelevant due to their predicament. They are both somewhat aware of how the other feels but have yet to discuss anything as Uzi states later. Likely due to uh, certain events happening around them.

When N sees Uzi come to, he starts laughing because of how relieved he is. And then promptly screams in horror at Uzi's next actions (I'm sure Nori is fine).

A small thing, but I thought it was an interesting reaction to have after having fought the previously possessed girl.

I think the fact that the two defaulted to freaking out after seeing each other is really sweet, funnily enough.

The way the two immediately start bantering, almost frantically, makes it feel like the two are looking for some sort of familiarity after all that's been happening. Moving instinctively closer to each other. Yes, maybe so they don't have to shout; but more importantly, after everything they've gone through, they want to be near each other.

And when they meet in the middle? They embrace each other, Uzi tightening her own hold and weeping into N's arm. N himself petting and caressing Uzi's head, both to comfort her and reassure himself that she is finally here with him.

...unfortunately, that is not the end of this post, nor the episode (as you've probably guessed).

After Cyn interrupts and attacks the duo, she descends into her pit of hell where she plans on dragging them.

You can see Uzi desperately trying to reach N, trying to get him to respond. That is her only goal in this moment, making sure that he is okay and alive.

I feel as if I am repeating myself... but yes, that heart is also purposeful. It's interesting how the tentacles split after forming, proceeding to drag N and Uzi apart with Uzi grasping at the ground trying to get back to N.

It literally tears them away from each other, and you can see how Uzi is forced to let go only to try and grab ahold of N.

She manages just in time to grab him, while impaling her hand onto some bones sticking up from the fleshy pit to stop both herself and N from falling further.

And we know this isn't a painless process, as drones have been shown to actively show pain. She doesn't care, she is doing all she can to save N, even if it hurts her. You can see how her arm starts ripping apart from her own hand as tentacles begin pulling harder.

But when Uzi sees N wake up, she gives him a smile, with a small, shakey, "Hey."

She knows they're likely about to die. And while N may have clones, Uzi does not. And even so, there's no way Cyn would allow N to remember anything that's happened, Uzi's firewall likely only protecting this N.

And as her final words she begins to thank him. For being her first friend. The first to believe in her. The first to show concern to her. The first to stay with her despite everything.

But when she sees that key?

She finishes thanking her first love and throws him away from their shared doom.

Uzi is genuinely so glad she's met N, and it shows in her expression here. She is saving the one good thing that has happened to her since her mom left her.

She knows N isn't going to be okay with this, that this won't be easy for him, and won't be easy for her, as she's assuming her own death in saving him.

Because of this, she doesn't want N's last memory of her to be herself being scared and unsure. So she tells him to "Die Mad," and flings him out of the chapel to both prevent him from attempting to save her and witnessing her death.

And you can see N was ready to jump in, determined to get her back and to save her. He uses his blades once again as a crutch, flaring his wings out in preparation to fly towards her.

Uzi doesn't let him, and for the last time pushing him away to save him from their once-shared fate.

I think Uzi's message to N will come into play later when they inevitably confront Cyn for the last time. Whether or not Uzi is there with him, he won't be able to forgive Cyn for controlling him and hurting him along with his loved ones.

And... that's the post! ending on a sad note but uh... we are talking about episode seven so there's no avoiding that haaaah.

If I missed something or you want further discussion feel free to send an ask or reply/respond to this post, love talking about shit.

Take a Nuzi dancing gif to go (I'm also sad now so this is really an excuse to put this at the end of my post).

Have a good one!

163 notes · View notes

chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

Text

She’s My Religion (Part 2: She Needs This Love Just as Much as Me) Astarion x F! Reader

Author note- totally not sure how I feel about this, but here we go! I hope someone enjoys this lmao.

I’m really tired and so this has been edited once and I’ll add the link for part 1 later. If you asked to be on my tag list- I am going to be adding you tomorrow simply because I can barely keep my eyes open right now.

CW: Domestic violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, violence, angst.

Picture does not belong to me and is not mine. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it so I apologize in advance.

“You’ve been doing WHAT!?”

Astarion sits staring at the forest with his head hung with guilt and shame. Shadowheart sounds furious with him and admittedly, Astarion is also raving mad at himself.

Astarion miscalculated terribly- his plan was completely, utterly doomed from the start. Shadowheart is pacing back and forth in front of him- reading him the right act.

Astarion is zoning out as Shadowheart goes on and on saying all the things he’s already said to himself- he begins to drift to the first time he had ever met you about three years ago.

Astarion had been in solitary confinement for what had felt like forever when Cazador let him out. It was probably the only time Cazador had looked somewhat close to nervous with some sick twisted affection behind his eyes. He simply told Astarion he was to accompany you around the grounds and that you needed to be treated with respect. Your step-father did not want you to be present after dinner.

“You are allowed to take her to do what she wants- within reason. Do not let her leave the mansion grounds and make sure she is content,” Cazador said stiffly, “I am trusting you, boy. You know the consequences if you step out of line.”

Later, before you had arrived, Dalyria had made him privy to you and your… temperaments. Astarion relished in knowing you made a fool out of Petras. Someone needed to give the prick a wake up call.

It was also, supposedly, no secret to anyone in your family that you are the one Cazador wishes to marry, but due to your lack of royal blood, it would ruin his alliance with the Von family entirely. So Cazador is stuck with a woman named Daisy Von (who he cannot stand) and Astarion felt like it was the perfect karma for Cazador- the one time he wants something or someone, he absolutely cannot have it.

You were (still are) wildly different from your obnoxious step-sisters and step-brothers.

“Wild.”

“Rebellious.”

“Boorish.”

“Trouble maker.”

It was all this annoying group of people could seem to talk about- how terrible and horrible you were. What a disappointment. What a nuisance.

Dalyria told him beforehand that this was the norm and that it really only gets more embarrassing for them every time. You were kind, headstrong, ambitious, and beautiful according to Dalyria- when she had stepped in for Petras that night at the last minute, you had treated her like a person. You had asked her about herself, engaged in her hobbies by asking questions, and you had made a point of showing her all the medical books in Bridril Von’s library (you even let her take one, Bridril never goes in the library). Astarion had just stared at her in disbelief- she had to be playing a trick on him.

You stood on the farthest end next to the youngest girl and Bridril had scowled so aggressively, Astarion thought his face may cave in on itself. You are far more captivating than any of Bridril’s children could ever wish to be. No wonder Cazador wants you so badly that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you come over with them or that you show up for dinner at your own home- undeterred by the inability to actually make a proposal for your hand.

You looked positively irritated everytime Daisy opened her mouth and he was too. The woman is dense and over-the-top. Dinner had been awkward and you had barely even touched your food, but drank three goblets of wine- every time Bridril leered at you for getting another glass, a sly smirk would cross your lips. Your own silent rebellion.

Your demeanor and attitude resembled that of a bird trapped in a cage- wings clipped and feathers plucked. It made Astarion feel bitter- in what world were you trapped? You get to live in a nice mansion and go to dinner parties in nice clothes- Astarion just woke up in a TOMB after being in there for WEEKS. How dare a pampered princess such as yourself pretend that you are provided with anything less than perfection.

His bitterness (and biases) hadn’t lasted very long- it lasted for about 5 parties. Your relationship started out with a lot of bickering and miscommunication. Both of your words towards each other were passively laced with venom, but you never complained so he kept being assigned to you. It was never an option really either. Cazador insisted you be a part of every dinner despite Bridril’s grumbling.

The 6th meeting had changed everything. You had not arrived for the party your step-father was throwing and Bridril told Cazador that you were sick before hurriedly rushing off to talk to a local Magistrate. Cazador, naturally, wasn’t satisfied with this explanation so he had sent Astarion to find you.

Astarion had found you sleeping- bloody, battered, and bruised in your bedroom. There was a thick black banded bruise on your neck. The walls were empty, there was only a bedroll in the corner, and the book you had been reading the last time he was there was destroyed and in tatters on the floor. You had woken up when he accidentally slammed the door out of rage and you had looked around disoriented, but skittish and alert all the same. Your eyes softened when you realized it was just him.

You told him you had lost a competition because you hadn’t been sleeping well- too many bad dreams. Bridril had been so embarrassed that he had beaten you for the last several hours before- completely forgetting the mass amount of guests that he had invited to his home that evening. You weren’t allowed to leave your room. Astarion had been wrong. You were a trapped bird in a cage.

It was the one and only time Astarion ever willingly went to Cazador and told him what he had witnessed. You never had a scratch on you again at any future gatherings, but you always looked more tired than the time before. Bridril would boast about all the competitions you had won over the last month- Archery, jousting, mock combats, javelin throwing, etc, etc, etc. The list went on and on- you looked closer and closer to vomiting or keeling over from exhaustion with every activity he named. Life returned to your eyes when you and Astarion went off to dick around.

Escorting you around the Crimson Palace or around the Mansion quickly became his favorite part of those stupid dinner parties or any of the events Cazador threw or went to. You are complex and didn’t grow up in nobility. You despised it, but you were stuck because Bridril had enchanted your mother. You told him she breaks sometimes, but you rarely recognize the woman that pretends to be her nowadays.

You admitted to Astarion you thought he was a pompous bastard when you first met, but he is pretty so you let it slide. Astarion told you that he thought you were a spoiled brat, but because YOU were pretty, he also let it slide.

You had smiled at him, “I guess we are both wrong.”

“But not about being pretty.”

“Oh most certainly not.”

One evening, the two of you had had ‘too much’ fun according to Cazador. You had snuck him into the library and you had sat reading for the entire 6 hour affair. You had asked if it was okay if you sat near him and that eventually led to you leaninging against each other. Astarion had felt like he had been physically, painfully ripped from you when it was time to go. You had kissed Astarion on the cheek before he left and he kissed your hand. Cazador had flayed Astarion for that one night.

Astarion had felt some guilt regarding his resentment toward you after the incident. He knew he wasn’t helping his own situation by giving into your whims and your touch.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, he would think Cazador loved you, but he learned quickly that Cazador’s “affection” for you comes from a place of obsession and possessiveness. You looked like a previous lover of his from a lifetime that Astarion knew very little about. You were different from this woman, but it was not unwelcome in Cazador’s eyes- he has always liked a challenge. He could make you submit.

Cazador had wanted to send someone else to be your escort after you had begun to show an interest in Astarion- this was quickly squashed when you looked like you were going to light Cazador and his entire world on fire if he dared to volunteer another person. He had brought Leon, Astarion, and Dalyria and when Cazador volunteered Leon- you simply said, “No, I want Astarion.”

Cazador was infuriated, but he wanted- no needed you to be happy and to like him. Cazador had told Pale Petras that if he could win your favor, he was sure you’d just willingly come to him and ask to be his consort. Daisy could be thrown out entirely and maybe he’ll have negotiating room. The thought had made Astarion’s stomach turn- he wouldn’t be able to bare watching you become a lifeless consort under Cazador.

However, he always pushed those thoughts away when he was around you so he could stay in a good mood. You would flirt back and forth with Astarion, talk about irrelevant bullshit from the week, the gossip around the mansion, and you both mimicked and complained about how pathetic it was to watch Daisy grovel at Cazador’s feet- a lamb to the slaughter. You referred to the slaughter as being marriage, he referred to the slaughter as Cazador.

It had been a wonderful year of Daisy entirely failing at keeping Cazador’s attention, but she was determined and Astarion admittedly hoped that you may remain a consistent part of his life- the tiniest ray of light to look forward to once or twice a month. And if Cazador marries Daisy? Well, Astarion may never have to be that far away from you permanently.

Then, one night at a party, he had been in the Von mansion’s dining room- Cazador had instructed him to find you. He eventually gave up after he couldn’t and figured you would come to him eventually. Astarion was right, but not in the way he had originally hoped.

You had snuck into the second floor dining area and you locked it behind you. Astarion had been relieved to be in your presence again, but the state you were in… His relief was swallowed up when he had seen how bruised and beaten up you looked. Astarion had surprised you by his presence and you surprised him with your plan. You were escaping and instead of stopping you like a very massive part wanted him too- in spite of Cazador’s command to keep you from leaving the property having been shoved down Astarion’s throat, Astarion helped you tie the rope to propel down the side of the building.

Astarion can still remember the earnest look you’d given him- the way you begged him to leave with you. Gods he wanted to. Astarion remembered all the days that followed after where he kicked himself for not being selfish, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want there to be any way for you to be caught. Astarion knew if he went with you, neither one of you would ever get to know what it means to be free. Cazador would be able to find you through Astarion.

Astarion had told you “no”, struggled to get you to understand between tears, but then you promised him that you would be back. You would kill Cazador and he would be free- you just need him to wait for you. You didn’t know Cazador was a Vampire Lord at the time, but he still believed you. You said give you at least four years- you need time to prepare. He agreed.

Astarion never forgot your promise, clinging to it like a divine wish. There were only 2 more years left- then the Mindflayers kidnapped him.

Astarion had never felt more angry or defeated in his whole life. Astarion would have been free, but now he’s going to turn into a Mindflayer of all things.

Except it had been the best stroke of luck he’d ever had. You were there! In front of him after two years! Your softer noble appearance has been replaced with a scar that shows you dodged just in time to not lose an eye, an Oath of Vengeance sigil plastered to your chest, piercings along your ears, and a large beholder tattoo on your neck. Still beautiful, just far more authentic.

Astarion knows his initial plan to seduce you, sleep with you, and manipulate your feelings was a fucked up one-especially because he knew having you in every way would destroy Cazador without thinking of how it would make you feel. Astarion also acknowledged that a part of him had been doing all this for his own selfish pleasure- no one was in the way of keeping you from getting closer and Astarion didn’t want to have to share your affections with others in camp. And besides, he had been there first.

Oh and Astarion took every advantage of having you to himself. Talking to you, making you laugh, kissing you, being entangled with you while you sleep, drinking from you- fucking you until you only smell of him, leaving bite marks to show you are Astarion’s only.

What Astarion hadn’t anticipated was how much he would also want to be yours. He had been pushing down the feeling for a long time and he always brushed off Shadowheart’s puppy love jokes. Astarion was not smitten with you- he merely knows you and that’s why it’s all so easy. You had shown him simple kindness and you had a history together- you were the obvious choice to go to for protection.

Then the fight with Yurgir happened and Astarion watched you die.

The battle had been hard- brutal even for Astarion’s standards- and the constant bombs being dropped wasn’t helping the situation.

You were up top with Karlach, facing Yurgir head on while Shadowheart and himself tried to pick off the other attackers going after you both.

It had felt like hours, but in reality, what happened next lasted mere seconds.

Yurgir had made you and Karlach lose your balance, but Yurgir was focused on you. Astarion watched in despair as you were flung into the wall, crashing to the ground with a pained scream, a sickening crack, then nothing but blood pouring out of your head. Suddenly, a bomb exploded above you, the rocks began to pour down from the ceiling, and buried you.

The screams that had erupted from Karlach and Shadowheart had snapped him into action. Astarion didn’t remember the rest of the battle, just that it had been a bloodthirsty blur and now he, Karlach, and Shadowheart were clearing the rubble. Astarion had been the one to find you and your face was a bit bruised, the back of your head still seeping with blood, but you looked so peaceful and your skin was so so cold.

When you were completely uncovered, it was evident that you were dead- that this was a job for Withers or a scroll of revivify. Your neck was snapped in half, your limbs were broken- some even shattered. Shadowheart was able to heal and reset your neck so that the whole ordeal was slightly less grotesque. After, he had cradled you in his arms until Karlach and Shadowheart were sure there were no enemies between themselves and the exit.

Astarion had refused to let Karlach take you, holding your broken form against him as his silent tears spilled onto your hushed expression.

You had thankfully not been beyond the point of no return, but Astarion had realized that he needed to have a conversation with you. You are more than an upper hand to him, more than someone fun to tumble around with in his tent- you have somehow become his reason for going forward. Astarion had resigned himself to dying if you weren’t able to be revived. The thought had surprised him after wanting to be free for so long, but would his freedom be worth having if he couldn’t spend it with you? Astarion would rather take his chances and hope you end up together in the same afterlife.

That is what has led him and Shadowheart to having this conversation. Astarion wants to ask you to be something real to each other. Shadowheart had initially been confused, stating that you had “always been real?”, then he told her everything.

Whenever you left Astarion behind, he’d pass the time getting drunk with Shadowheart (if she was left behind). The last time, she had to ask Astarion if his entire conversation catalog is just about you because you were brought up every other word- he had felt incredibly embarrassed, so much so that he had gotten up and hid in his tent.

“Astarion- you never shut up about her, you’ve been following her around like a lost dog since day one- Hells you looked halfway to smitten on the DAMN BEACH!” Shadowheart says with a shrill voice, “What do you mean the entire time up until yesterday that it was all a lie!?”

“It wasn't yesterday only, my favorite wine drunk Sharran” Astarion stated matter-of-factly, “I just… didn’t want to acknowledge that I wanted more. After I first met her, I didn’t see her again for two years- it was bearable, but that had come with the promise of her coming back. She almost didn’t yesterday and I realized that, even after this is all said and done, I don't ever want her to go away. In any capacity.”

Shadowheart shook her head at him, “She’s going to be furious. Heartbroken even.”

“I know,” Astarion says thickly, “but I’m hoping she will forgive me or at least let me prove to her that I’m serious about us.”

You weren’t due back for at least another hour so they had begun working on the speech immediately.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Whatever we are,” you are glaring at him, your voice coated in venom, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

No. No. No. NO!

Astarion didn’t think it was possible for his heart to feel like it’s been shattered since it barely beats at all.

It’s over?

It can’t be over! It’s barely begun and you only have half of the story. Astarion knows you’ll listen- you’ll see sense. You have to… right?

“Darling, pl-”

“No! I hate you so much!,” you sob into your hands, his whole body hurts looking at you, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

Astarion wants to grab you as you turn around and walk away. He wants to get down on his knees and plead to you- pray to you until you don’t leave him- that you take it back. You’ll give him a chance, even if he loses privileges like getting to hold your hand, cuddle with you at night, or even kiss you for a while, that would be far more bearable than losing you altogether.

Astarion falls to his knees, ruptured and humbled.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart says softly, squatting down in front of him, “it will be okay. She’ll forgive you. She just needs a second, okay? You knew and I knew that this was a toss up to begin with.”

Astarion nodded numbly and got to his feet. Shadowheart gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before going into her own tent and Astarion briskly begins to walk back to his. He makes eye contact with you as Wyll enters your tent and the look on your face when you saw him makes this whole nightmare all too real.

Once he secures the tent flaps, Astarion crawls onto his bedroll and lets the sadness consume him while being surrounded by your scent. This may be one of the worst days he’s ever had in the last 200 years- at least from what he can remember.

If Astarion wasn’t so afraid for your safety, he would have packed up all of his things and headed back to Cazador with his tail between his legs, but he can’t because all that does is put you in danger.

Astarion slowly peels himself off the bed roll and hugs his knees to his chest. He lets himself stare off into nowhere as he lets himself be consumed with the agony and vexation- it’s not like there is any wildlife to go take out his pain on.

Astarion gets up and rolls his shoulders. As much as he wants you, you are done with him and he needs to respect that. Astarion decides he’ll leave you alone, but remain in the background. He’ll stay until you tell him to leave and never return. It will hurt so terribly to not be near you like he was, but he’ll just have to be grateful for the time he did have- the time he took for granted.

Astarion begins to get ready for the long night ahead of him when an open letter on one of his books catches his attention.

It’s addressed to you, torn open and stained with tears. Astarion opens the envelope. He reads the note so many times he feels like he may go on a homicidal rampage. Not only was your mother dead, likely at the hands of your step-father, you are officially considered engaged to be married to Cazador fucking Szarr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had waited until morning to try to talk to you again-giving up on leaving you alone. He knows that you have a very long cool down period when your feelings are hurt (he has made this mistake less severely in the recent past). If there is any hope of you hearing Astarion out- it would be today.

Except you had already left with Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel by the time he has finally built up the courage to leave his tent.

Astarion spent the day with Shadowheart and actually attempted to help with camp chores. Astarion bounced ideas off of her, but he didn’t tell her about the note. It felt like that was information for you to share if you wanted and you probably hadn’t intended on him learning about this information in the first place.

Shadowheart looks at him after awhile, a troubled look on her face. Shadowheart turns towards Wyll.

“Hey Wyll, they should have been back by now right?”

Wyll walks over to Shadowheart and Astarion with the same troubled expression.

“Yes, it was just a quick supply run to Last Light Inn before we take a day to recooperate,” Wyll says slowly, “I’m wondering what has held them up this long…”

Their pondering and questions were quickly interrupted by the sound of foot steps racing towards them.

“SHADOWHEART! HALSIN!”

You and Karlach were screaming their names in unison. Karlach is supporting Lae’zel and Gale is slack against you as you fight to keep him upright. The usually wonderful smell of your blood is now making him ill as you come closer to camp.

Across your sides were long, bloody scratch marks- in fact, there are claw marks all along your arms and your armor. One side of your face has a superficial scratch. Karlach appears to be in better shape, but just as scratched up nonetheless.

“We- we were ambushed by an Absolute Cultist,” Karlach exclaims breathily, “a Fist named Marcus. He was trying to bring Isobel back to Ketheric.”

Astarion watches as you help lay Gale down near Halsin and Shadowheart so they can begin to get to work, Lae’zel being laid down next to him. Shadowheart catches your wrist with her hand and gives you a Superior Healing Potion- the soft smile you offer her makes Astarion think he may have a chance.

Astarion walks back towards his tent and toys with the letter on the counter. Does he bring it up? Does he just bring it back to you and not acknowledge it? What would you even want him to do?

The noise outside had diminished as Lae’zel and Gale were recovered enough to be moved and healed in their individual tents- Shadowheart healing Gale and Halsin healing Lae’zel. It must be an early night for everyone. Astarion takes a deep breath and opens his tent flap, ready to confront you- but it looks like he didn’t have to travel very far to confront you.

There you are, cleaned up now, standing in front of Astarion’s tent looking nervous and heartbroken. In his shock, Astarion offers you his hand and gently pulls you inside, closing the flaps behind you.

“What did I do?” you blurt out, tears streaming down your face as fast as words are coming out of your mouth, “I can be useful again. I can do whatever you need me to- be whoever you need me to be.”

You take a jagged, heart wrenching inhale and he can hear you fighting the lump in your throat.

“I can’t do this alone- I just can’t,” you sob and look down at your feet, “I know what I said. I know I’m a fool for crawling back here begging you to keep pretending, but please. I can be what you need me to be, I promise. I’ll be- perfect for you. Please.”

Astarion bridges the gap between the two of you and puts your face between his hands, guiding your melancholy eyes to his.

“Darling, you have always been perfect. I have never needed you to be anything more or less than what you are. You are a Godsend.”

“Then why?” you whisper, “Why would you practice breaking up with me? What did I do?”

Astarion sits there and looks at you with bewilderment- practicing breaking up with you? He was practicing trying to ask to be with you!

He chuckles despite the tears that are slowly spilling from his eyes, “You insult me, my Love. I have no issues with breaking up with people- I think. Never really had the chance and I had no desire to end our relationship yesterday.”

You look at him with regret and guilt in your eyes. You go to move away from him- evidently worried about him rejecting you and hurting you. He moves with you, not letting you go anywhere and he kisses your forehead, one of his hands moving to the small of your back while the other remains on your cheek.

“What I was trying to tell you, my Dear,” Astarion softly whispers, “is that, regardless of my original intentions, my plan failed terribly.”

“How so?” you whisper in return.

“It was all so simple- seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy- instinctive. 200 years of instinct had kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it and all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Astarion traces your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling you into him by pressing into the small of your back. You gasp gently at the contact.

“And that is where my nice simple plan fell apart,” he says woefully, “you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Your eyes search his face for any signs of ingenuity or deception.

“I do too, more than anything,” you say breathlessly, “but what about everything I said yesterday? Everything I said was terrible.”

“It was,” he ponders, then he says teasingly “if my feelings weren’t so hurt and if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end- I dare say I would have been proud of you.”

“Well I learned my dramatics from the best after all.”

“I didn’t know Wyll was such a great teacher- I’ll have to ask him for tips some time,” he quips.

Your laugh lifts the painful fog that has been smothering him in his tent for the last day. Astarion pulls you down with him into his bedroll, you curl up around him and he spreads the blanket out. You lay your head on his chest and he pulls you into him tightly- inhaling your scent and savoring the thrumming of your pulse underneath his finger nails.

“Those nights when we were together,” you ask, peering up at him with worry, “did they not mean anything to you then?”

Astarion freezes before he releases a deep sigh. This may be the part where you change your mind and he is mentally preparing for it- taking account of the way you feel against him just in case this is truly the last time.

“I don’t know what real looks like,” he confesses, “being close to anyone-any kind of intimacy- was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you flinch at the mention of Cazador.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how to be with someone- no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you deeply- we can be together without having sex for however long you need,” you pause, “you are so much more to me than sex and I adore you for so much more than just your body.”

“Really?” the shock in his voice is blatant.

“Really,” you say with a smile before laying your head back on his chest.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says giddily, running his hands through your hair, “ but I know that this, this is nice.”

You hum in agreement and he draws circles on your back. Astarion basks in your presence and sits in the relief that you are back in his arms again.

“Astarion,” you break the silence, “I have to tell you something- I got a letter. It’s not… good.”

“I know, Darling,” Astarion says tightly, “you left it in here. Unfortunately I let my noisiness get the best of me.”

You both sit in the heavy silence that fills the air.

“I’m to be married off to him, Astarion,” you choke out.

“I won’t let him have you, “Astarion snarls, his voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

“But what if there isn’t a choice? What if it would protect yo-”

“No.”

He is looming over you, you are now flat on your back staring up at him. Astarion feels like a coil ready to spring. If it’s ever between him and you regarding who goes to Cazador- he’d serve a thousand life sentences before he’d ever let that vile man so much as look in your direction.

“Astarion-”

“No,” he says between clenched teeth, “you will not sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t care if you marrying Cazador and being his consort would make me mortal again. You will not be his- he cannot have you.”

You look up at him with bleary, adoring eyes, “okay.”

Astarion kisses your trembling lips and he tastes the tears staining them. Astarion pulls away and strokes your cheek softly. He lays back down and you turn towards him, tangling your hands into his hair, gently detangling it. Astarion rests his hands on your hips, using his fingers to delicately adjust you until your legs are entangled in his.

“My mom is dead, Star,” you say remorsefully “she’s gone. She was all alone and probably so afraid. I never even said goodbye before I left her to her fate- I was a coward.”

The hurt in your voice is raw and bleeding- it breaks Astarion’s heart all over again.

“I am so incredibly sorry for your mother and your loss, Little Love, “Astarion says softly, “but you are not a coward. You did what you needed to do. You were always planning on coming back.”

“I was,” you whisper, “I was going to get her first and then you.”

“Foolishly enough,” Astarion chuckles, “I never lost faith in you. I felt like if anyone could do it, it would be you- the glimpse of sunlight amongst the secondhand embarrassment that is Daisy Von.”

You giggle and press your face into his chest- the vibrations fills his chest with warmth. Astarion is so incredibly happy you are back where you belong- here with him.

“I am hardly comparable to the sun,” you say, “I think I’m a candle. Ordinary, accessible, there when you need it.”

Astarion turns over your words in his head- he agrees with the statement but disagrees with the reasoning entirely.

“You are a candle,” he says slowly, “but a candle has always been a luxury to me. It allowed me to sew or read- to have a tiny piece of my humanity back. It was nice to have a break from the dark, huddled around the small flame.”

He pauses, “ I suppose that is why I am so drawn to you. You make me feel like a person again and you are a luxury I never thought I’d be lucky enough to afford outside of those monthly visits.”

“Well, then I promise I will remain here,” you say with adoration, “your humble candle- for as long as you need me.”

“Be careful what you promise, Little Love,” Astarion teases, “if you aren’t careful, you may be stuck with me for eternity.”

“Gods, I hope so!” you say with flourish, “everyone else is terribly boring and does not appreciate my predisposition for shenanigans.”

“How ungrateful!”

“Entirely ungrateful!” you agree.

Astarion pulls you in for another kiss, a grin forming as you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Astarion kisses the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead. You settle into him and he strokes your hair- your breathing evens out and you are slack against him.

Astarion takes in your sleeping figure and feels another surge of protectiveness enveloping his body. He doesn’t know how accessible his thoughts are to Cazador, but he hopes Cazador hears this one.

You cannot have her- she is mine.

_________________________________________________

Author note- should I do a part three and four with the Cazador confrontation? I’m torn- let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #karlach #astarion acunin #astarion x f! reader #astarion x female reader

157 notes · View notes

sapphic-agent · 4 months

Text

Let's Talk About Izuku and Bakugou's Relationship

Happy New Year, everyone! Thought I'd kick 2024 off with a new post. I haven't written an in-depth analysis in a while, so I figured now was a good time.

So, I've touched on this before, many times in fact. If you've seen my other posts, you know that I think that the BKDK relationship is a clusterfuck of codependency, abuse, and toxicity. But I don't think I've ever analyzed it frame-by-frame, so here's an attempt.

Childhood

The lake scene has the most focus than any other flashback in the series. It's meant to show us why Bakugou hated Izuku; he assumed Izuku looked down on him and saw him as weak. It's supposed to support the idea that Bakugou has an inferiority complex that's been present since he was a kid and that's why he lashes out at Izuku and wants to be rid of him. Because Izuku makes him feel weak.

But this isn't true. Or, it doesn't paint the whole picture.

One thing the lake scene seems to gloss over is the fact that Bakugou was always mean to Izuku. Maybe he wasn't as harsh and could be written off as just a kid being a kid, but he still made fun of him. He still went out of his way to make him feel bad about himself and humiliate him. He called him "Deku" way before either of them were (or weren't) given a quirk.

And he only ever did this to Izuku, not the other kids part of his posse. He, even at such a young age, saw Izuku as an easy target, someone he could easily shove around because he knew Izuku wouldn't fight back (this would persist for the next ten years).

It's important to note that there's only one instance where Bakugou's behavior towards Izuku turns violent. It's when Izuku defends a kid that Bakugou and his posse are picking on. This is the moment where Bakugou becomes physically aggressive; not when he found out Izuku was quirkless, during the lake, or any time before. It's here, when Izuku stops being the defenseless wimp who won't stand up to him. He doesn't like that Izuku stepped out of the mold he had confined him to (I'll come back to this later).

The truth of their childhood together is that Bakugou was always inherently awful to Izuku. It wasn't like he experienced one bad moment that flipped a switch, Bakugou liked picking on Izuku from day one.

Middle School

There isn't much to say about their days at Aldera other than it's just a progression of escalation from their childhood. They've settled into their roles as abuser and victim. Bakugou knows he can say and do whatever he wants and Izuku won't defend himself because it's been the status quo for a decade.

He revels in that power he has over him, likes to remind Izuku of his "place." And if he steps out of line, Bakugou exerts that power over him to shut him right down, stressing his inability to do anything about his situation. It's a cycle of abuse.

Deku vs Kacchan Part 1

I've already talked about this scene before, but this is also another example as to what I was alluding to above.

As @delawaredetroit pointed out in a post from a while ago, Bakugou isn't feeling betrayed here. He himself has said time and time again that he and Izuku weren't friends. He cares about the fact that his victim now has power of his own.

All their lives, Bakugou had the power and Izuku was powerless. That was the dynamic they were used to and the one that Bakugou was aware and repeatedly took advantage of. But now, Izuku isn't powerless or defenseless. He no longer fits the mold that Bakugou had tied him to since childhood. That's why Bakugou is so upset; not because Izuku kept something from him but because the power imbalance between was shifting.

And it's why he tries to use guilt-tripping here. He wants Izuku to feel bad, wants to reestablish some of the control over him he just lost. And it works, because Izuku tells him he inherited his quirk completely unprompted after the fact. Bakugou knows he has the power in their relationship and has no issues abusing that power.

Sports Festival

I don't have much to say here, but I would like to point out something very inconsistent concerning Bakugou's interpretation of his relationship with Izuku. He claims that Izuku kept following him around and that he couldn't get rid of him, which attributed to his dislike. But even if that was true when they were 5, it's actually the opposite at least from middle school on.

Bakugou went out of his way to target Izuku in the first chapter/episode. He also tracked him down after the Sludge Villain incident. He's initiated every one of their confrontations in UA. And here, he deliberately eavesdropped on Izuku's conversation with Todoroki.

I don't know whether to call it hypocrisy or ignorance, but Izuku was content to leave Bakugou alone. Bakugou's the one who's constantly harassing and obsessing over him.

Final Exams

Izuku daring to display confidence and competence invokes immediate physical violence in Bakugou. He doesn't like that Izuku is talking to him like he's an equal, he doesn't like that Izuku dares to step outside of his role as a victim. Bakugou wants Izuku to act like he's below him and gets agitated when he doesn't do that. He, in this moment, cared more about putting Izuku in his place than his own grade.

Deku vs Kacchan Part 2

I mentioned that BKDK is codependent in the beginning of the post. This is what I mean.

Bakugou can't cope with the fact that he isn't the best and takes it out on the only target he has. Izuku had nothing to do with his shortcomings, but he still felt the need to establish superiority over him; a grasp for some measure of control.

Like I said above, he's well aware of the power he has over Izuku. Do you think he would have tried this with Todoroki? Or Tokoyami? Or Iida? No, because he knows that none of them would have even dignified him with a response. But he knows he can control Izuku in a way he can't with other people. He feels comfortable treating only Izuku as his emotional and physical punching bag.

The Apology

It's interesting that prior to apologizing for treating him badly, Bakugou proceeds to treat Izuku badly.

This interaction is important because it's their first major conflict after Bakugou's "redemption." We're supposed to be at the point where he's changed. But he still resorts to insults and goading. His first instinct is still to put Izuku down.

I've said most of what I needed to about the apology. But I do want to mention that coming from Bakugou's mouth, it grossly understates what happened during those ten years. Because the abuser is the one telling the story, his transgressions don't seem that bad. He's the one controlling the narrative, so his classmates- Izuku's friends- don't know the full story. They don't know what Bakugou put Izuku through. Bakugou comes off looking sympathetic to their peers by speaking "his truth."

Was this his intention? Probably not as Bakugou doesn't really care what others think about him. But it does raise the point that this is the extent as to how Bakugou sees his past self; as a stubborn, overzealous child and not the abuser that he was

#anti bakugou katsuki #anti bakudeku #romantic and platonic because both suck #mha critical #bnha critical #izuku deserves better #long post #relationship analysis #tw bullying #tw abuse #tw suicide baiting

129 notes · View notes

makethatelevenrings · 2 years

Text

All-American Apple Pie Kinda Guy // C. Kent x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ ONLY, face riding, cunnilingus, food with sex

Summary: Clark comes home late on your sixth month anniversary with a smashed up pie and a million apologies. Good thing you were understanding...and hungry.

What good was Kryptonian powers if Clark couldn’t check his watch and show up on time? It was your anniversary. Your six month anniversary and he was late. Worse than late. Embarrassingly late.

He knew that you wouldn’t care. He could already hear your reassuring comments about how “you’re a hero, Clark, I knew what I was getting into” and “it’s fine, I wanted a quiet night in anyway” but it was six months.

Six months of rushed dates and interrupted nights and chaste kisses before he darted out to go stop another crime or save another life. He loved helping the world and he would always appreciate having the chance to keep the world safe, but he would also really like a quiet night in with the woman whose smile rivaled the sun’s power in electrifying him.

He had been making good time at first. He left work at five on the dot, ignoring the look Perry sent his way when Clark refused to stay to finish an article on the upcoming dog show that wasn’t due for another three days. He checked to make sure no one was looking before he darted into an alley and stripped down to the infamous blue and red suit before darting off to Smallville where his Ma had a pie fresh out of the oven to take back to you.

But then he got sidetracked. Really, it wasn’t his fault and he knew that you would understand and say all the right things to assuage his guilt about being late because how could he ignore a warehouse fire with people trapped inside?

Once he made sure the last person was out, Clark continued on his way to Smallville when another cry for help stopped him. Damnit. Sometimes he really, really wished that Bruce or Barry had superhearing.

Forty minutes later, he zipped into his childhood home, pressed a kiss to his Ma’s cheek, said goodbye to his Pa, and snatched the pie off of the counter before disappearing once more. He darted down to buy some flowers from a very surprised vendor, with cash of course, and then shot back up into the sky.

You were settling down on the couch with a glass of your favorite drink and some cheap Netflix movie when a knock sounded on the door. You already knew who it was, but it was still fun to check through the peephole. Clark’s glasses were skewed across the bridge of his nose and the singular curl across his forehead was still present even though he was dressed in his usual baggy slacks and an oversized button down.

“Hi,” you greeted when you opened the door. He offered you a sheepish grin and lifted his hands, revealing the wilted, petalless flowers in his right hand and the smashed up box holding pie in his left.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really tried. I just-”

“I know.” A quiet laugh escaped you at the sight of the ruined gifts and you grasped his tie, reeling him in for a kiss. He stumbled into your apartment and shut the door behind him with his foot before setting the items on the counter. His strong arms encircled your waist as you tilted your chin and deepened the kiss.

“Hi,” you breathed again once you pulled away. He grinned that boyish, handsome smile of his and slid his hand to rest on your lower back.

“Happy six months. I, uh, I brought pie.”

Clark gingerly lifted the box and you took it out of his hands with a small smile playing on your lips. Raising the lid, you snickered at the sight of the smashed pie and glanced up at him. He was frowning, obviously frustrated with himself and his inability to give you a normal relationship, and well…you couldn’t have your man doubt himself.

Raising your hand, you dipped your finger into the gooey mess and then stuck it in your mouth. You made sure that your eyes stayed locked with his as you slid your tongue over the pad of your finger and sucked the pie off of your skin. His blue eyes darkened and you pulled your finger out from the pucker of your lips with an audible pop.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, low and throaty. “My favorite.”

You pushed back against Clark’s chest and despite him being a superpowered alien, he let you move him until his back collided with the fridge. You tilted your chin up, eyes tracing the hard line of his jaw as you blinked up at him from under your lashes.

“Are you…” His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he let out a small cough to clear his throat. “Do you need a plate?”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him down so your lips ghosted over his. “Such a gentleman, Clark. We don’t want to dirty up the dishes, right? I have a much better idea.”

Releasing him, you spun on your heel and headed towards the bedroom, pie in one hand and a wink thrown over your shoulder. He took a moment to catch his breath before ripping off his shirt, sending buttons flying. You laughed from the bedroom and turned to see Clark appear in the doorway, face flushed and hair a mess. While his glasses were off, his suit was still on and you raised a brow in question. He glanced down, disappeared in a flash, and then appeared before you completely naked.

You dipped your fingers into the pie and then smeared it across his chest. Clark let out a snort but his amusement quickly died when you leaned forward and licked his chest clean. He groaned, his eyes falling shut at the delicate touch on his skin. Your lips enclosed around his right nipple and you sucked at it before laving your tongue over the affected spot. His hand came up to rest on the back of your head to cradle you close as his other hand tugged at the waistband of your pants. You helped him slide your shorts and underwear down and detached yourself from him and handed him the pie.

Slowly, tantalizing, you slid your shirt over your head and his heated gaze roamed over your figure, making you glad that it wasn’t his actual heated gaze. Clark set the pie down on the bed and cupped your face in his large hands. He brought his lips down to meet yours and you hummed, running your tongue across his bottom lip.

“Hmmm, missing something.” You reached down, scooping up more of the pie, and slid your hand down from your neck, across your breasts, and down to your stomach. Clark smirked as you bit your lip and stepped back until your knees hit the bed. You let yourself fall back onto the mattress as he stepped closer, looming over you.

“You’ve made a mess,” he tsked. Clark peered up at you with those crystalline blue eyes and that singular curl falling in his face and Rao, you almost came right then and there. You knew he was feeling everything you were on another level. He could hear every beat of your racing heart, smell the sweat and slick and sweetness that coated your skin, and he could taste…oh, he could taste.

He flattened his tongue at your navel and dragged it up your torso, leaving a trail of spit and fire in its wake. You tangled your fingers in his dark curls and tugged, but he didn’t react. He just nibbled on the soft skin of your breast and a startled gasp escaped you.

Sex with Clark was good. Great, even. But he was always so hesitant with you. You understood his need to be careful. You just wished he wasn’t so vanilla.

He sucked a mark into your neck and you tilted your jaw up to give him better access but he grabbed your chin and pulled you into a bruising kiss. Clark bullied his tongue past your lips and you moaned at the sweetness of pie mixed with his dirty actions.

“Tastes so good,” he grunted. “But I know something even better.”

He rolled over so he was on his back and you were straddling him, one leg on either side of his head. Clark grinned and gripped your ass, pulling you closer to the headboard. You grabbed it and stared down at him in shock.

“C’mon, baby. Just a taste.” Sweet Rao, if Lex Luthor could see the big bad Superman now. Some kind of overpowered super menace he was. This man was begging for a taste of your pussy.

“I…I don’t know. What if I crush you or something?” The second the insecurity slipped out of your mouth, you knew you slipped up. He chuckled, the vibrations rippling across your skin and causing you to shudder, before he squeezed your ass and pulled you so close that his nose brushed against your cunt with every breath.

“If it’s between Kryptonite and your cunt, I would die a happy man tasting you on my tongue.”

And then he dove in.

Your fingers curled around the headboard and you thrust forward as his tongue worked its magic. He speared it in and out of your cunt before soothing your labia with gentle kitten licks and then starting that same process over and over again. Every time you rocked back and forth, your clit dragged against the bridge of his nose and you whimpered at the constant overwhelming friction. Clark moaned at the taste of your sweetness on his tongue and the way that your thighs flexed and tightened around his head.

“Clark,” you gasped as your legs began to shake. “Clark, I’m close.”

He continued the same pattern, pressure, and stroke, pulling you closer and closer to your high. You grabbed the pillows beneath his head and let out a strangled cry.

“Kal…Kal-El,” you whispered, not trusting yourself to refrain from screaming if you spoke any louder. As if he sensed your internal battle, Clark slowed down and you whined as your orgasm ebbed away. He squeezed your thigh and you bucked your cunt down onto his face.

“Kal-El!” you shouted. “Fuck! Please, Kal, please.”

Your body seized as white hot pleasure shot down your spine and through your core. Clark licked, sucked, and stroked you over the crashing wave of your orgasm. You tried to stop yourself from falling on top of him, but your muscles were jelly. He caught you like you weighed nothing, which wasn’t surprising since he could bench press a semi, and eased you down onto the mattress.

“Let me…regain my brain,” you gasped out. He peppered soft kisses along your shoulder and stroked a hand down your back. “Holy shit, Clark. What was that?”

“Happy anniversary.” He kissed you, the taste of you still on his tongue, and then pulled back with a shrug. “Figured I could apologize for being late.”

“Apology accepted.” You kissed the underside of his jaw and then smirked. “Now…Mr. Kent. Is that a blaster you have or are you just happy to see me?”

You scooped more of the pie out of the tin and slid it into your mouth before leaning back with a wink. “My turn.”

And when the morning light revealed that the bed was broken, you couldn’t decide which round had been the culprit.

Tag list: @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @alexxavicry

#clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #clark kent smut #superman x reader #superman imagine #superman smut

2K notes · View notes

shorthaltsjester · 10 months

Text

sometimes people will say “going dark” and then what they’re actually talking about is just people no longer presenting a carefully constructed version of their emotions and experiences.

like. emotional turmoil is not the same as darkness. laudna in this Fictional Universe that has tangibly different stakes wrt to death and killing than our own, is at best like . morally neutral for what she just did like. man has been secretly trying to kill you, and then just tried to do so again, killing him back is a fair choice. and even if i was someone who is excited by delilah’s inability to escape from the narrative, this shit isn’t about delilah. laudna made a choice. if delilah is back or whatever it’s a choice that laudna made because something in that grants her more control than her existing conditions did. this isn’t some Delilah Takes Over, it’s Laudna Expressly Makes The Choice To Call Forth Something within Herself to remedy the lack of control that’s been thrust upon her. if y’all want to Continue to limit Laudna’s agency (as the cr fandom is so, so want to do when a female character makes a choice that isn’t Good according to some weird system of virtue ethics) go ahead.

likewise with orym. little guy is not “going dark” because he has finally made direct action about his emotional turmoil in dealing with a situation which has similarly left him without control and has also placed him in a position where his stalwart conviction towards protecting and honouring those he loves and has lost alike is constantly met with other people he cares for going well.. what if they had a point/we are killing other peoples loved ones/etc. which like . yeah that might be frustrating and in fact might lead him to go, actually, i can’t afford to try and maintain some abject morality where I carry a locket that will literally only provide guilt. orym is completely committed to his beliefs, the locket and what it represents has never been a limit to what he will do, only a reminder of the consequences of what he might cause in those actions. but they Are at war and orym has a billion things on his plate. he can put down the locket. especially when bor’dor is the explicit manifestation of that locket’s symbolism. the subtext rapidly became the text and orym doesn’t need a reminder. it’s there in the fact that team issylra is walking away with two friends, not three.

these are character who have at every turn denied their own emotions in various forms while still being acutely aware of what they deny, whether that awareness was/is fully realized or not. many of laudna’s early convos with ashton show us that there is some awareness to the lighthearted spooky goth girl and how that persona fades when she thinks too much about what has led her and maintained that reality. likewise the entirety of orym’s story thus far is defined by his grief in a very literal sense, it Has extended from that grief to also the commitment he had to the purpose of figuring out the assassination attempt on keyleth but as we have seen, that purpose has fallen apart. paired with the quasi-reopening of his grief that was getting to see will again only to have to turn away, i don’t think there’s a lack of awareness in orym of how much he hurts. but between his actions and 4SD, that hurt tends to get buried under guilt or Responsibility.

and now, finally, both of them have admitted to that Not in the safety of small introspection or one-on-one conversations but with actions that they cannot shy away from or deny. laudna killed bor’dor and orym encouraged her to. and it Is a complex situation but truly I don’t really think it’s a “going dark” one. because they’re not giving into some overhanging Darkness of Morality™, they’re admitting that they are hurt and have long been hurting.

or, y’know, tldr for those who continue to deny laudna and orym agency or fully villainise them for whatever weird reasons . you could listen to laudna and ashton’s conversation that pretty much lays it out explicitly. laudna claims she’s weak for having chosen to kill bor’dor. ashton denies that and affirms instead that, no, she’s hurt.

#critical role #cr spoilers #laudna #orym #team issylra #maybe it’s because a lot of these people r also the people who have no literacy wrt religious and philosophical complexity #that Screams bad experience that hasn’t been reckoned with but. the Big part of healing is that. a lot of the time #especially with Trauma. the mess is gonna come before the pretty little bow does #like noah fence but . this is The Most interesting laudna and orym have been to me this far and it’s not because they’re Darker #it’s because they’re being more true to themselves #maybe this is nitpicky I Don’t Care #me watching c1 as vex admits that she still feels like a burden and Heavily considers being treeified for sondor. ‘is this vex Going Dark?’#as an imogen Lover . let’s be real and admit the only Genuine going dark risk is her at this point in the campaign #because like. i truly don’t see anyone else making the Choice to do absolutely fucked up selfish things #and imogen considers doing that shit like . once every two eps At Least (affectionate but eyes wide about it)#anyway. reunion will be very interesting with an orym and laudna who are shedding pieces of what maintains their like Group Role #bells hells #critical role spoilers #cr3 #cr campaign 3 #bell’s hells #my posts

302 notes · View notes

builtbybrokenbells · 10 months

Text

Gold Dust Woman | ii

Y/n finds herself giving in to temptation, tangling herself further in Jake’s web due to her inability to turn him away. Her dishonesty about her actions results in nothing but more trouble as she quickly realizes Jake is not the only one playing the game.

Read part one here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader, sam kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, flirting, touch of making out, hangovers, love triangle situations, sorry if i miss any!

hi! sorry this took so long. it’s also not the best, but i hope you still like it and stick with me through this series because im quite excited about it. ive been having a really tough time lately and just started getting back into the swing of things, so this chapter is kind of setting the scene and a promise for more, i guess. no smut in this one, but pinky promise it’s coming soon. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

The sun served as a violent reminder of the previous nights events. When you opened your eyes to the rays of light beaming through the curtains, you barely had time to register you were awake before the remorse began to seep back in. You were sure that the headache from your hangover was just another way of the universe laughing at you. As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you were almost angry at the sun for shining when you felt as miserable as you did. The specks of dust danced through the rays, silently taunting you as you attempted to pull yourself from the arms of slumber. You hated knowing that the world would keep turning and moving forward, even when you felt like everything was crumbling around you.

You made a move to stand, but the pounding in your skull was encouraging you to crawl back under the blankets and hide away. Still, you stood, searching for clothes to cover yourself with. You located an old t-shirt and some shorts in a pile of laundry you hadn’t gotten around to folding yet, throwing it on without much thought. You took to the mirror, checking yourself over, sickened at the sight. Your makeup was in disarray, smudged and stained over your skin and your hair was wild, sticking up and knotted. You grabbed some makeup wipes, ridding yourself of the mess on your face, first, and then grabbing a comb to brush through your hair. When you deemed yourself at least sort of presentable, you made the dreaded journey to the company of others.

As you made your way down the hallway, you could hear minimal chatter coming from the living room. You peeked your head around the corner, praying that it was just the boys, still unsure of who stayed at your home overnight. You felt a wave of relief wash over you when you saw Josh sprawled across the couch, eyes closed with a hand on his forehead. Danny was sitting on the second couch, arm casted around the back and slumped into the cushions. Sam was laying on the floor, eyes also shut to block out the light. You couldn’t help but notice Jake was nowhere to be found, immediately wondering where he ran off to. You scolded yourself internally, upset that he was the first person you searched for, that he was the first thought in your head. Even so, your mind trailed back to the memory of him, reminding yourself of how ethereal he looked between your legs. How could you not think about him after you’d seen him like that? Just at the thought, you felt a surge of emotion rush straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Good morning, sunshine.” A voice broke you from your head. You looked up, nervous at the greeting. You were sure guilt was plastered all over your face, giving you away almost immediately.

“Hey,” you replied, hoping to cover up your startled expression. You walked over, careful to avoid Sam on the ground. You took a seat next to Danny, who almost instantly wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You leaned into the touch, comforted at the idea he could possibly still be ignorant to the events of the night prior.

“You disappeared on me last night.” He noted, but there was no accusatory tone present.

“Yeah, I didn’t feel very good. I ended up going straight to bed.” The lie slipped off your tongue easier than any truth you’d ever told. You kept your eyes on your hands, which were resting on your lap. It only took one night for Jake to cast such a spell over you, one that made you so willing to lie for him; whatever power he held within him was strong enough to make you a fool, keeping him a secret while silently hoping he would come back, just so you could catch sight of his face.

“Feel better today?” He asked. You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes in attempt to ward off the ache in your head.

“Not particularly.” You gave a short lived chuckle. “What about you guys?”

“I think it’s safe to say we’ve all had better days.” He replied, leaving it at that. “Josh, throw over that bottle of Advil.” In response, Josh let out a low groan along with a few incoherent mumbles. He reached to the side table without moving from his position, hand searching wildly for the small bottle. Once he’d located it, he tossed it in the general direction of you both without looking. It landed with a thud on the cushion beside you.

You picked it up, taking two out of the bottle. Danny handed you his glass of water. You muttered a thanks, swallowing them down and handing it back to him. “I’m never drinking again.”

“You say that every time.” Danny reminded.

“I mean it, this time.” You grumbled, but left it at that. You had no energy to argue the point any further. You were certain you meant it, now, because you finally joined in on the drunken mistakes everybody so often spoke about. For once, the alcohol worsened your situation instead of taking your mind off it. And now, you had no idea what to do about it. Your night of attempting to drink away your lesson had only created more. As your eyes drifted to Sam laying on the floor, your chest ached at the sight. Still, as hungover as he was, he was gorgeous. The previous nights events had no affect on your feelings for him; they were still as strong as ever. You were hoping the entanglement would provide some sense of clarity, but the only thing your dance with the devil gave you was a sense of shame, and a bit of remorse.

As you watched Sam’s face, you couldn’t help but feel your thoughts drift back to his brother. Sam was the type of person you wanted to come home to after a long day, cozy up with on the couch and throw on a movie. He was the person you wanted to share your everyday life with, one with whom you wanted to make an endless book of memories. Jake, on the other hand, was like a cloud of black smoke consuming you every time you thought of him. He didn’t even need to speak to you, you just wanted his hands on you and for him to never stop touching you, ever again. The sinful desire to be wrapped around him forever was overpowering; much stronger than a want. Now, it was almost a necessity.

The idea of never feeling him like that again was so dreadful that it took the air from your lungs and clouded your vision. He was suffocating you with his essence, but it felt so good that you almost felt the need to thank him for it; oxygen was second only to Jake and the way he made you feel. Even in your hungover state, the memory of him was still overpowering everything else. The tingle on your skin in the places he touched you was residual, begging you to remember him. As much as you’d hoped for it to be gone when you woke, you knew that you’d give anything to have a minute alone with him once more.

You found yourself toying the line of consciousness, comfortable in Danny’s hold and soothed from the warmth of his body. He was much like a large teddy-bear, and one of the few friends you didn’t mind physical contact with. If anything, it was one of the greatest comforts you knew. You were certain everybody else had dozed off as well, each one of you feeling the exact same way. Just as you were about to fall back into slumber, the front door opened and footsteps echoed down the hall. You stirred slightly, peering at the intruder with only one eye open. You were glad everybody else was sleeping, because the redness that spread across your face at the sight of Jake was more than incriminating.

He caught you looking, wasting no time giving you a smile. He was holding a tray of coffee and what looked to be a bag of takeout. “Don’t you all look energetic,” he commented, his gaze drifting around the room.

“Please, please tell me that one of those are for me?” You found the energy to open both eyes, lifting your head slightly. The surge of pain that ran through your skull prompted you to resume your earlier position.

“Obviously, sweetheart. Could never forget about you.” He sent a wink in your direction, one that was so subtle you would have missed it had you not been immersed in every detail of his face. You bit down on the inside of your lip in attempt to distract yourself from the fluttering in your stomach, still clearly affected by his pet names. He walked over, handing you a cup.

“Thanks, Jake.” You said, eyes focused on his face. When you reached for the coffee, your fingers brushed with his. The contact ran through you like a shock of lightning, causing your breath to catch in your throat. It was a small enough reaction that nobody noticed, except for the boy who caused it. He gave you a smile before he moved on, handing out the rest of the drinks.

At the smell of food, and the sound of the conversation, Sam and Josh arose from their positions. Jake gave everybody’s respective orders to them before settling beside you on the couch. You took a sip of coffee, trying not to focus on the feeling of his thigh resting against yours. You looked down at the lid of the cup, delighted at the taste of the drink. Your eyes softened at the writing on the top. Somehow, he’d managed to remember exactly how you liked your coffee. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d actually told him, meaning he’d been storing that information in his head for a while. You looked to him through the corner of your eye, hoping to be sneaky about it, but you found he was already looking at you through the corner of his. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks again, quickly shifting your attention back to the food in front of you.

After some much needed caffeine and sustenance, the group seemed to become a bit more lively. Sam and Josh both managed to remain upright, their eyes staying open for more than a few minutes at a time. “You seem awfully quiet,” Danny nudged you with his elbow. Your head turned towards him, trying to cover up your dazed look. You still weren’t quite back to reality. The memories from the night prior were hitting you harder each time the chatter in the room died down, leaving you still trying to figure out if it really happened or your dreams were just very vivid. You knew it must have happened, because the ache in your heart was very real every time you caught Sam’s eye, or because of the flood of emotion that washed over you every time you looked a little too closely at Jake.

“Oh, yeah. Guess I still don’t feel the best.” You chuckled, realizing you’d have to break out of your internal struggle sooner or later.

“Another Advil?” He offered, holding the bottle out to you.

“I don’t think any amount of Advil can take away this hangover, Danny Boy.” You sighed, letting your head fall back into the cushion. You meant it, too. This hangover was different, because you were suffering through a withdrawal from something much more powerful than alcohol. As remorseful as you felt about your actions, you knew the only way to satiate the feeling was to get Jake back in your bedroom and finish what you started. Even thinking that caused a twinge of pain in your chest, eyes casted in the direction of Sam and the stupid little smile he had on his lips.

“Hey, y/n,” your attention was pulled in another direction. You looked to your side, raising an eyebrow in response to Jake’s voice. “Do you still have that Les Paul?” You watched him, more specifically the way his lips moved as he formulated the words, finding yourself captivated in it. You felt the urge to lean over and kiss him, just to feel a shred of what he’d made you feel a few hours before.

“Uh, the gold top?” You asked, unsure if that’s the one he was asking about. “There’s a sunburst around here somewhere, too, if you’re thinking of that one.”

“No, the gold top.” He clarified. You looked around the room, certain that you’d left it there the last time you played it. When you couldn’t locate it, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“It must be downstairs. Did you want to play it?”

“Yeah, I’ll come and look for it with you.” He said, passing it off as a completely innocent, friendly gesture. You locked eyes with him, knowing what he really meant by the statement. Your gaze lingered for a moment too long, realizing you would have to answer before any suspicion was casted towards the interaction. You shared a silent agreement with him before speaking.

“Sure. It’s probably down there, somewhere. There’s so much shit in the basement that I can’t even keep track of it all anymore.”

“If you’re looking to get rid of any of it, I’d be more than happy to take that Thunderbird off your hands.” Sam sent a smirk your way. The sound of his voice pulled your attention to him, completely immersing you in his presence. You hated that both boys now had that power over you. Without missing a beat, you rolled your eyes, giving a slight scoff at his statement.

“You’ll never get your hands on that bass, Sammy. I love you, but never.” You said, making a move to stand.

“Oh, come on. All of those instruments down there, and I’ve never even seen you play one. Have some compassion, woman.” He pleaded. You gave him a gentle pat on the head as you walked by.

“Never, Sam.” You repeated. “Play it all you want, but it stays here.”

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged.

“Just like the thousand other times you asked?” You teased. He gave you a look, his gaze lingering over your face for a moment.

“Always.” He smiled, eyes focused on you with an expression you weren’t sure you’d seen from him before. You felt your heart flutter, noticing your stare lasted for a second too long with him, too. You shook the thoughts from your head, unable to think about how pretty he looked when he smiled, especially when you were about to head off to seclusion with his brother. You were in too deep with both of them, and there was no sign of land. You moved towards the exit of the room, looking back to find Jake following closely behind. You flicked on the light to the stairwell leading to the basement, cracking open the door. You led him down, watching your footing as you made your descent down the steps. You heard him trailing behind, the door softly falling shut behind him.

When your feet hit the floor, your hand searched for the second light switch on the wall, locating it after a few moments of struggle. You clicked it on and the yellow hue of the lightbulb filled the room, allowing you to see what was inside. You turned back to look at Jake, once again finding him already looking at you. He gave you a small smile once you caught his eye. “Sleep well last night, Gold Dust Woman?” You narrowed your gaze, eyebrow raised slightly to showcase your annoyance with him.

“What do you think, Jacob?” His smile only grew, and a laugh accompanied it, this time.

“I never got any phone calls, so I assumed you did.” He took a single step in your direction, almost as if he was nervous to approach you again. You watched him, wondering if you should let the situation continue as it was, or shut it down.

“Did you put my Les Paul down here?” You asked, unable to keep the question to yourself. You had the nagging idea that he moved it, almost certain that you last left it in the room you had just been in. But, at the same time, you could never be too sure of yourself. Especially considering the last twenty-four hours of your life had been nothing short of disastrous and delusional.

“Is that an accusation?” He seemed to love answering your questions with more questions, and it was driving you insane.

“Simple curiosity.” You replied, feeling unable to look away from him.

“Maybe I took it upon myself to bring it down here,” he explained, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Wouldn’t have wanted anything to happen to it, last night.”

“You sure that was the motivation?” You pressed further, wanting to hear him admit the true intent. He took another step closer, now within an arms reach of you. He brushed the hair from your face, tucking it neatly behind your ear.

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” He teased. His fingers ghosted over your cheek, sending that same rush of excitement through you as it did the night before. It was crazy how such a minuscule contact could produce such a grand feeling. That was just how Jake was, though. Everything about him was grand, even his simplicity.

“Just a question.” You assured him, praying you could keep your confidence. The slight airiness of your words and the drum of your heart against your ribcage said otherwise, though, and you were certain he noticed it.

“Anyone ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat, sweetheart?” He was inching closer, the space between your bodies diminishing more by the second. Even so, it seemed painfully slow. You wondered how you so easily found yourself in the same position after making the fatal mistake the night before; after the soul-crushing remorse you’d been feeling all morning.

“There’s another half to that saying, Jacob. Don’t forget about that part.” You reminded, hand involuntarily reaching for him. Your fingers grasped at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him towards you a little further. There it was again, the same incomprehensible force he had that drew you into him. You understood, now; you would never be able to escape Jake as long as he was accessible. Much like a drug, he was addictive. You were sure that even if you went to the basement with the intent of telling him to leave you alone, you’d still end up immersed in him one way or another. His aura was stronger than any pull of gravity or any other earthly force. Even knowing you shouldn’t, you couldn’t help but invite him in.

“Right,” he agreed, now pressed into you. His face was hovering just above yours. The anticipation was killing you; he seemed to be a fan of keeping you on edge, and it was insufferable. You wished he would just make the move, to decide for you and limit you from any overthinking. But, maybe, that was his intent. He wanted you to think about it; he wanted you to do all of the thinking, so you would ultimately end up in his arms on your own terms. He wanted you to think about him so often that there was no room for anything else, and he almost had you there. He was persevering until every part of your brain was consumed with him, in a true devilish fashion. He knew he could get away with it, too, because he could tell it was working. “Remind me, again, would you?”

“Of what, exactly?” If he wanted to play the game, you had no issue playing, too. A smirk was toying at the corner of his lips, although hard to notice due to his close proximity. It would be so easy to kiss him, you thought, so easy to just lean forward and allow you both the pleasure you were desperately seeking. But, you stayed true to your position and your stubbornness, refusing to break the gap between your mouths.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart.” His hand that wasn’t occupied with your cheek found your hip, holding it with little force, just enough to let you know he was touching you. The pet name made your head spin once again. He had you wrapped around his finger, and you were too far gone to come back from it. You knew you would give him anything he wanted as long as he continued looking at you in such a way.

“Satisfaction,” you muttered, completely lost in the deep brown hue of his eyes. They were so inviting, much like a warm hug on a cold day. He nodded, happy with your answer. “Satisfaction brought it back.” You finished, more confident in your words.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “So, what’s going to satisfy you, then?” You swallowed hard at his words, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He already knew the answer, the question only served as a boast for his ego. “Finishing what we started last night?” He pried, lips just hovering over your own. It was almost funny, how distraught you’d been about this exact situation just minutes before, and how willingly you’d fallen back into it.

“An answer to the question would do it, I think.” You brushed his question off, but you knew your response was a lie. You were practically drooling at the thought of continuing your activities from the previous night. The idea of walking away from him was blasphemous, the thought almost putting you in agony.

“So, if I tell you the truth, you’ll walk away?” His fingertips were burning into your skin, so violent despite his gentle touch, but it felt fantastic. You were certain you’d never be able to live without it.

“Yeah,” you breathed, trying to feign a little bit of certainty, but anyone with a working set of ears could tell it was untruthful.

“You know you can’t lie to me, angel.” He scolded, although his tone was soft and barely above a whisper. The tip of his nose was tickling your own, now. He’d given in last night, but he was stubborn enough to stop himself, this time. He wanted you to invite him in, now. It was your turn to break the boundary. “But, yes. I brought the Les Paul down here this morning, if that’s what you want to know.”

“Why?” You pestered, both of you aware that wasn’t the question you wanted answered.

“So I could have you all to myself, again.” He was done playing, realizing the best way to get what he wanted was to be honest. As fun as it was to tease you, he wanted to feel you on him again, almost as badly as you wanted him. In another moment of weakness, void of any rationality, you pulled him closer and closed the gap between you. It was hungry, filled with desperation and a need for each other that was unable to be described with words.

He guided you backwards, firmly pressing you against the wall as his hands found their way under the hem of your shirt. He wasn’t disrespectful: more so just searching for a more intimate piece of you to experience. He settled his hold on your hips, just above your shorts. His fingers felt like heaven on your skin, like it was exactly where they were meant to be. Your arms were wrapped around his neck in a shameless attempt to capture him and hold him to you forever. The idea of the guitar was long out the window, much like the memory of the people sat in your living room. The only thing that held any importance was the boy before you, once again casting his spell over you.

When he parted from you, the loss of contact was agonizing, nearly bringing you to tears. The pent up tension from how he’d left you had simmered, but now was building once more, making it impossible to see past it. If life would have been so kind, he would have taken you right there. But, as you grew to understand, it never was. He gave you that same, irritating smile in place of his kiss. You wanted to smack it off his face, just to ensure he’d never give it to you again. “Glad to see you still feel the same way,” he noted.

“You make it impossible not to.” You said, fighting the urge to push him away from you.

“Thank you.” He grinned.

“Not particularly a compliment, sweetheart.” You corrected, barely noticing the use of the nickname. It seemed like his charm was rubbing off on you.

“Agree to disagree,” he said, face still inches from your own. “Have I earned that invitation, yet?” You held back an eye roll, knowing deep down that he never needed any invitation; he owned the place, now. It would feel more comfortable if you were asking him permission to allow you the pleasure.

“You could’ve had me last night. You already had the invitation, Jake. You didn’t need to earn it.” You reminded him, still angry but finding yourself more focused on his lips, hoping he’d grace you with another kiss.

“I know, angel, but don’t you want it even more, now?” You expelled a long sigh, tired of him dragging the situation out. “It will be so much better, now that you’ve waited.” He assured you. “Besides, I think you’re worth courting, at least a little bit.” He sent another wink in your direction, paired with a smirk.

“Maybe you’re the sadist.” You shot, throwing his own theories back at him. He gave a shrug, but didn’t give anything more. “You promised me, Jake.”

“I haven’t broken any promises, sweetheart.” He said, looking over your face.

“Surely this isn’t what you meant by all day long, however I wanted it.” You scoffed. “I’m not exactly enjoying this.”

“So, what? You want me to fuck you while everybody waits for us upstairs?” He asked, raising a hand to run his finger over your cheek. That smug little smirk remained stuck on his lips. When you didn’t answer, he raised an eyebrow in inquiry. “You would?” He let out a disapproving hum, settling his palm on your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed, knowing that if you were going to have him, he’d ensure that you would suffer a bit, first. That was just a part of his hellish nature. Although, you had to admit, he was right; the build up was bound to result in a way more intense climax, later. “Dirty little thing, too.” He noted, drawing in a deep breath. It seemed like the idea sparked a nerve within him, too. If your inhibitions were any lower, you both would have given in.

“Get the fucking guitar,” you snapped, but your hands refused to break their hold on him. “But when they go home, you stay.”

“A lady who knows what she wants,” he leaned in once more, lips barely brushing over yours. “Hot.” The eye roll you’d been containing made its way into the world. The small statement aided you in realizing that as captivating as he was, he was still just a boy. He leaned forward, giving you another kiss to hold you over. As much as you hoped it would ease the feeling of need, it only worsened it. When he broke away, he moved back and freed you from your position. You watched him, still half-tempted to fuck him right there. You persevered, playing the waiting game once again. You managed to hold back this long, and you were sure you could hold on just a bit longer.

“Where’d you put it?”

“So demanding.” He said, feigning a look of disbelief. You placed a hand on your hip, silently telling him that your patience was growing thin. “Fine,” he stepped away, looking only for a second before locating the case that contained the guitar. He grabbed it, returning to you and giving a genuine smile. “Better?” You gave a nod, happy for once that he decided to comply. Amidst your frustration, you couldn’t help but soften at his goofy expression. You walked towards him, placing a kiss on his cheek in thanks. You nodded your head towards the stairwell, letting him know you were both long overdue for your return.

“Thanks.” You said as you took to the steps. He was close behind, not letting you stray too far. As you reached for the light switch, a sharp smack landed on your ass, causing you to jump at the contact. You turned around, giving a look of bewilderment which was met with a chuckle.

“Just so you know, I never break a promise.” He assured you. “And, just because you got your way, doesn’t mean you’re in charge.” He gave another wink, causing you to swallow hard. The statement produced a whole other world of excitement, eager to see what he had in store for you. You both returned to the main level, composing yourselves as you walked in attempt to hide the true intent of the basement visit.

“Oh! Hold on,” You said, turning on your heels. Jake watched you, curious about your sudden change in direction, but stepped out of your way. You tumbled back downstairs, looking around for only a moment before locating the item you’d forgotten. You grabbed the bass before joining Jake once again. Even though you were captivated in Jake, Sam still seemed to be heavy on your mind.

“If you let him play that, he’s never going to give it back.” Jake warned.

“He will, trust me.” You said, not worried about it. You closed the basement door behind you as you stepped into the main floor. Jake disappeared around the corner, joining his brothers. You took a moment to fully regain yourself before following after him. You were greeted with three pairs of questioning eyes once you entered the room.

“Did you guys get lost?” Danny asked, a smirk on his face. You looked to him, trying to cover any look of guilt that might have been on your own. The knowing look he held in his eye made your stomach churn with unease.

“There’s a lot of shit down there. Guess it just got lost in the mess of things.” You chuckled, refusing to hold his stare any longer. You turned to Sam, handing him the Thunderbird. He took it, excitement replacing any inquiries in his mind. “To play. Not to keep, Sammy.” You reminded, but he was too busy plucking at the strings. Jake had flicked the power on to an amp sitting beside the television, messing with the settings. He took to the second one beside it, tossing a patch cord towards his youngest brother. Danny decided he would drop the subject for now, knowing you’d never admit to anything in front of a group. He made a mental note to ask about it later.

“Now I feel left out.” Danny said, looking around at his friends. You let out a small laugh.

“I’ve got a box drum. No real drum set, yet. Or a couple acoustics, if you’d prefer that.”

“Those in the basement, too?” He questioned. You elected not to respond, making a move towards the amp and grabbing the drum, making the decision for him.

“Right here, actually.” You smiled as you sat it in front of him.

“You’re too kind,” he said, pulling the instrument between his legs. You resumed your earlier position on the couch beside him, looking around at everyone. The morale definitely seemed higher than it was previously. Between the pain killers and the distraction of music, everyone was mostly back to their normal selves. “That’s a gorgeous guitar.” Danny noted, eyes trailing towards Jake.

“It’s a ‘57 reissue. Wish I could’ve got the real one, but I can’t be too greedy.”

“Where do you find all of these? And how are you not broke?” Sam laughed, eyeing the bass in his hands.

“I got a lot of them as gifts, or thank you’s from the people I’ve worked with over the years. Some of it I bought secondhand, and some I got brand new. They all kind of come with their own story, which is cool.” You explained. Sam watched you intently as he listened.

“That is really cool, actually.”

“Yeah, turns out a lot of musicians like to cycle through instruments. They get bored after so many years and move on to other things. When they do, they have nowhere to put the pile of old ones.”

“That’s where you come in?” You smiled, nodding in response.

“Yeah, exactly. It’s awesome, ‘cause it’s like I get to keep a part of the people I work with. I mean, the instruments are cool, but the sentiment means more.” You told him, feeling touched at the question. The whole idea of Sam was confusing. You were hopelessly head over heels for him, but you were quite certain any feelings you had weren’t returned. Then, he’d sit there and ask you questions nobody else bothered to ask you. He made you feel seen; heard, even, after an entire lifetime of begging for it.

“You can’t tell me you’ve never played any of them,” he said, stare still burning into you. You opened your mouth, but closed it quickly, void of a proper response. Your eyes flickered to Jake, who was mindlessly strumming. He wasn’t looking in your direction, but you knew he was listening; he always listened. You weren’t sure if you wanted to share the intimate detail of your life with all of them, yet. The thought terrified you, understanding that the more people that knew about it, the bigger chance of your escape to the bars on Friday nights being ruined. Then again, you thought you’d be mortified if anyone found out. The night before, when Jake showered you in his completely honest compliments, it felt more comforting, rather than scary. Like the years of learning and practicing finally amounted to something. The stamp of approval from a real musician was exhilarating.

“A little, I guess.” You shrugged. Jakes eyes flickered towards you, expression intrigued at the idea you might tell everyone. “Just a side hobby.” Jake had to bite back a smile, excited he may be able to get to hear you play again. Sam’s eyes were wide, amazed that you finally admitted you played the instruments, rather than let them collect dust. They all had the nagging suspicion, and often took turns trying to pry the information from you. He was proud of the fact he’d been the one to get you to tell them. If only he knew the truth, that he wasn’t the first to know, he might have been a little heartbroken. So, you kept that part to yourself and hoped Jake would do the same.

“Play me something?” He asked, hope sparkling in his pupils. You felt your heart jump at the sight of him, unable to turn him down while he looked at you in such a way. You swallowed hard, but eventually gave a nod.

“Okay.” You agreed, already feeling your nervousness set in. At the word, Jake immediately surrendered the Les Paul over to you. You took it, muttering a thank you and settling it on your lap. “What do you want to hear?” You asked. All four boys had no answer, overjoyed to hear whatever you were willing to play. You rested the pick between your lips as you adjusted the tuning pegs to satisfaction.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, realizing that this was the most intimate detail you’d ever shared with them to date. You didn’t even bother to open them, too scared to see the expressions they adorned when you started to pick. You let the muscle memory guide you through the intro riff. You played it a few times, getting a feel for the song before continuing on. The second time you played it, Danny caught on and was banging a small beat into the drum. The third time, Sam joined in with the bass. The sound of all three together brought a smile to your lips, finally focused on the music rather than the fear.

“Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise,” the lyrics came like a second nature to you, all of the anxiety floating away as the words fell from your mouth. If only you knew how brutally truthful the words would turn out to be, you never would have played the song in the first place. “Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies.”

“And if you don’t love me now,

You will never love me again,

I can still hear you saying

You would never break the chain.”

Josh joined you on the chorus, singing the backing vocals. On the second chorus, Jake joined, too. They let you sing the verses on your own, but by the time the last chorus came around, you were all shouting the lyrics with each other. On the finishing note, you were breathless and red in the face, but you couldn’t recall a time you felt quite as alive. Your heart was beating against your ribcage, threatening to break free, and the smile on your face was blinding.

“A little?” Sam asked, his grin matching yours.

“I have a lot of free time.” You breathed, a short laugh following the statement. “I have a couple friends I play with at the bars sometimes.”

“That’s more than a hobby, y/n. That’s a passion.” He said, never once breaking his stare away from you. If your face wasn’t already red, the blush your cheeks produced would have been a dead giveaway of your feelings for him. “You’re fantastic.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, unsure of how to take to the kind words.

“I’m just upset we didn’t do that sooner.” Danny said, his palm landing on your back with a pat of encouragement.

“Well, we have all the time in the world.” You shrugged.

“You guys are thinking the same thing, right?” Jake asked, looking around the room. The three boys seemed to have an unspoken agreement, already knowing what he was about to say.

“What?” You asked, feeling left out.

“We’ve been looking for an opening act, if you and your friends are interested.” Jake finally answered. When you looked to him, you half expected him to laugh and tell you he was joking, but his expression had never been more serious.

“O-oh, no,” you laughed “no, I can’t do that.”

“Yeah, you can.” He said, his eyes searching your own, seeming to be looking straight through your soul. He knew you had it in you; he’d seen it that night at the bar. “Come with us.”

“Are you allowed to offer that?” You asked, desperate to divert the attention away from the topic at hand. “Aren’t there contracts and managers and all of that stuff involved.”

“Yeah, we can handle that.” Sam said, just as enthusiastic about the idea. Your eyes darted between the two, unsure if they were pulling your leg.

“I have a job, guys.” You brushed them off.

“That you can always come back to.” Josh spoke now, in complete agreement with the others.

“Don’t have to decide right now. Just think about it.” Danny wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into a side-hug. You felt like the air was stolen from your lungs, baffled at the idea. You couldn’t believe they had enough faith in you to ask such a thing. More than that, you couldn’t believe they liked you enough to want you to join them. You thought it was crazy, completely insane that they offered you something like that without even thinking twice. But, under the shock, you felt a small bubble of excitement. A chance to live your dream; finally a real shot with an option to fall back on. “Play us something else.” Danny spoke again, gently encouraging you to keep going.

“Oh, yeah. Okay.” You nodded, coming back to reality. You thought for a moment, trying to decide on what to play next. When you settled on a song, it only took the boys a few seconds to join in.

The late hours of the morning dwindled until early afternoon, filled with music, chatter and laughter. The spirits were so high that you even managed to forget about your internal dilemma. After a while, the group broke off into smaller conversations and the instruments grew quiet. You took it upon yourself to take a trip to the kitchen, craving a bit more caffeine and a snack to keep you going. You flicked on the coffee maker, filling the top with grounds and pressing the start button. You pulled down a mug, tapping your fingers against the counter as you waited. The stead drip seemed to take forever, your impatience showing more by the second. As you watched, gentle footsteps echoed behind you, letting you know someone had joined you.

You turned, half expecting Jake to be standing behind you, eager to put you through a bit more turmoil. A bubble of excitement arose at the thought of another minute along with him. You were met with a shock, seeing Sam approaching with a small smile stuck on his lips. “Coffee?” You asked, nodding your head towards your empty mug.

“Sure.” He agreed, taking a seat at the table. “I can’t believe you kept all of that talent a secret for so long.” You were still pleasantly surprised that Jake was true to his word; he hadn’t even mentioned the fact he’d seen you perform.

“Guess I was just shy.” You shrugged. “I don’t really tell many people.”

“I don’t know why, y/n. Talent like that should be shared with the world.” He said, honesty radiating from his tone. You didn’t answer, mostly because you weren’t sure how to, so both of you fell into comfortable silence for a few moments. “I think it would be really cool if you came with us.”

“I think it would be, too.” You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly aware of how hungover you looked. You didn’t share too many moments completely alone with Sam. Now that it was just the two of you, you were very conscious of your appearance. “But there’s a lot of stuff to consider. I have a job, I have to make sure my people are okay with it, too. We only have a few original songs and mostly stick to covers. Fuck, Sam, we don’t even have a name.” You laughed. “We play at dive bars on the weekend and forget about it by Monday. Definitely not prepared to tour with anyone.”

“You’ve got some time to figure it out. You work with music all day, every day. You probably know more about it than we do.” He offered. “You kept up with us really well. Clearly you guys know what you’re doing. I’m sure you sound even better with them.”

“Are you trying to peer pressure me into this?” You gave a smirk, just to let him know you were joking.

“Yeah,” he laughed, not afraid to admit it. “I want you to come.” The profession was blunt, hitting you hard. He’d never been so direct with you about anything, especially concerning anything like that. You watched him, unsure of how to respond. Instead of answering, you turned and filled the mugs with coffee. You sat one in front of him, taking a seat across from him. “I miss you when we’re gone, you know.” You were sure that your heart stopped beating for a moment.

“I miss you guys, too.” You replied once you’d had enough time to process the statement.

“No, I miss you.” He clarified, making sure you knew he wasn’t speaking on a broad spectrum. “I mean, I’m sure they do, too, but I miss you.”

“Oh,” you mustered, feeling the redness creep to your cheeks again. “I miss you when you’re gone, too, Sammy.” He gave you a soft smile, happy to hear the confirmation.

“I was wondering where you were, last night. I didn’t even get to play a game with you. We always play together.” You gave a nervous chuckle, unsure of how to answer.

“I just wasn’t feeling the best.” You lied. “I would’ve asked, but it seemed like you were a bit… occupied.” You trailed off at the end, not really wanting to dive into the specifics of him and the other girl.

“Oh, that girl?” He asked, looking for confirmation. You nodded. “I don’t even know her name, honestly.” Your stomach sank, realizing you’d completely mistaken the situation. Your feelings clouded the interaction, making it seem like the conversation was much more flirtatious than it actually was. You wondered how many times you’d done it over the course of the last few months. You still weren’t sure where the conversation was headed, exactly, so you didn’t respond right away. “I was hoping to talk to you, instead.”

“You never came over.” You said, eyes searching his face for another clue as to what he was hinting at.

“I never do, I get too nervous.” He chuckled. You leaned back in your chair, taking in his words as he spoke. You weren’t sure you were understanding the intent of his conversation, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to. “You and Jake seemed pretty close last night.” Your eyes widened, shocked that he had even noticed the interaction.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” You shrugged. He watched you, waiting for something else. When you didn’t respond, he looked to his mug on the table, picking it up and taking a sip.

“Just be careful,” He said, looking back to you. You cocked your head to the side, wondering what the warning was for, or why he thought he was the one who had to give it.

“There’s nothing to ‘be careful’ about.” You replied. “We just played beer pong together.” You chuckled, wondering if he could see through the lie. The words seemed to perk him up a little bit, but you didn’t want to read too much into the details, just in case you were wrong.

“I think he might be looking for something more than that.” Sam gave another soft smile, but it was more sullen than the last. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Sam, you don’t have to worry. I can handle myself.” You assured him.

“I always worry about you.” The statement itself was friendly enough, and you wouldn’t have thought anything of it had he not reached over and rested his hand on top of yours. The small action was enough to send your stomach into butterflies and make your breath catch in your throat. When you looked up to meet his eyes, he was already watching your face. He didn’t move his hand, but gave you the freedom to pull away if you wanted. You noticed, in that moment, just how similar him and his brother were. Not just in looks, but their expressions, too. You could go as far as to say even down to the illusive nature of their words and actions.

You thought it must be some violent trick from the universe, a scheme to make you the laughing stock of the world. There was no logical reason that you’d fallen into Jake’s hands, and shared such an intimate moment with Sam right after. A moment in which you had been craving for so long, one where he seemed to be showing you a hint of what you were looking for the whole time. If you had waited just one more day, you imagined you wouldn’t be feeling so guilty for wanting to lean over and kiss him. But, as you sat with his hand over yours, the only thing you could think of was your rising sense of remorse, stronger than any you’d felt before. This time, it wasn’t on behalf of your feelings for Sam; it was on behalf of Jake, and your fear of hurting him. A fear of losing him, even. So far, your shame was based off your crush on Sam and your guilt for sleeping with his brother despite that feeling. This time, you’d actually found yourself involved with Jake, even if you were unsure of the nature of the relationship. It felt dirty feeling this way about Jake’s brother, now, after his hands had been on you so intimately. It almost felt like a betrayal to him.

You wondered, if you had put a stop to Jake’s antics the night before, if Sam would still be across from you with intent on professing such feelings. After so long of waiting, you thought he might only be interested in you when the idea of you being with someone else arose. That thought pained you more than the rest. In attempt to satiate the thought, you opted to believe you were looking much too far into the interaction. It was a friendly conversation, and a gesture that matched. Just two people drinking coffee, experiencing the lull of a hangover and seeking some form of comfort.

“So, it was just a friendly game?” He asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear the desired response, instead.

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding along with your words. You both knew you were lying, but it didn’t make the difference for him. “Why?”

“Because I’d hate for my favourite girl to have feelings for my brother, and not me.” Your eyes fluttered closed, the statement hitting you like a train. You thought you might be sick; the sound producing a much worse feeling than any part of the hangover. A day sooner, and you’d be jumping for joy. Now, you wished he hadn’t said anything at all. Although you still thought that his intent was to keep you on his line instead of someone else’s, you prayed you were wrong. As gross as you felt about it, the reciprocation of feelings was euphoric. Even so, the knowledge only made a messy situation even worse.

The part of you that was in love with Sam was begging you to fall into him, to revel in the admission and give in to his affection. The part of you that was immersed in Jake was screaming at you to stand up and walk away, to pretend you hadn’t heard a thing that he said. Instead, you sat, staring at Sam wide-eyed and void of any response. A thought worse than the ones previous surfaced, that maybe this wasn’t a coincidence, or conscious choice that Sam made, waiting until after Jake made a move. Maybe this was your repayment for succumbing to the devil’s temptation. The conversation you shared with Danny the night before was pounding against your skull. Perhaps, this was your karma. You’d failed miserably at utilizing your lesson, and this was the universe’s indignant punishment.

The most disgraceful knowledge of all, was that your moral compass was completely destroyed; the need to have Sam in your life was debilitating, and the thought of never having Jake again was paralyzing. For a moment, the sinful little devil made its reappearance, working hard at convincing you to have them both. The idea of keeping your feelings a secret was long gone, and was replaced the new idea of entertaining both boys just so you wouldn’t have to go without. As misguided as it was, the notion was the most sound you could come up with, because the thought of having neither was unbearable.

The last piece of crucial information was unknown to you; the brothers knew exactly what they were doing. Both taking a keen interest in you long ago, and only finally engaging in the battle of courtship. They had never been able to turn down a bit of friendly competition, especially when the prize was so grand. And brothers they were, because that same streak of evil ran through both. Ever so slowly pulling you in with their captivating eyes and electrifying touches; driving you crazy without doing much of anything at all. As innocent as their intentions may have been, as amiable as the competition seemed, there was no escaping the fact that someone would end up suffering. With everyone hoping it wouldn’t be them, you all failed to see the misery you were wishing upon the others.

It was a situation that left the sinister laughing; the devil was only awaiting the downfall.

Heartless challenge,

pick your path and I’ll pray

227 notes · View notes

celluloidbroomcloset · 5 months

Text

I was thinking about monstrosity and how both Stede and Ed believe that they're monsters, in different ways.

Chauncey tells Stede that he's not a human being but a monster and a plague who destroys everything he touches, which catalyzes for Stede everything he's known since childhood. Ed's entire life from the time he kills his father to the present moment has been developing monstrosity as a safeguard while also internalizing the guilt of the murder.

The first time they meet, Stede (without meaning to) reminds Ed of his monstrosity by showing him the picture-book image of Blackbeard. Ed points out how ridiculous it is - he's aware, even then, that the Blackbeard image isn't true to him. Stede himself doesn't recognize Ed as Blackbeard at first because Ed is quite obviously not the image.

Stede's monstrosity is directly tied to his sexuality and how he expresses it - he’s not “masculine” enough. Ed's monstrosity is tied to his inability to escape from the masculine image he’s created to protect himself. Both are targeted by bullies who attempt to destroy the monster they see - Chauncey by rendering Stede a subhuman thing that should be stamped out, Izzy by threatening Ed back into his Blackbeard persona. Both are told they should be dead rather than what they are.

If Ed's monstrosity becomes increasingly externalized, Stede's perceived monstrosity is all internal - what Chauncey says about him congeals into a set of memories and sensations of being "wrong" and "different." It's particularly cruel because Stede himself loves beautiful things so much, and he now believes that he destroys those things simply by existing - and Ed, this man that he finds so beautiful and so lovable, is one of the things he's destroyed. Stede also doesn't think himself worthy of love because there is something wrong about him; he looks like a human being, but he isn't one.

Ed doesn’t know that some of Stede’s offer of friendship in the bathtub scene is a result of empathetic understanding - he knows what it is to be an isolated, frightened child despised by his own father. He knows what it is to harbor a secret and have it eat you from the inside out. He knows what it is to feel monstrous.

That scene with Chauncey is as important as Ed's scene with Izzy and vice versa. Stede is just coming to the realization that he's in love with Ed, and that that love is something he's allowed to feel and something that's reciprocated. He's still uncertain, he's still tentative, and he's still scared, but he's experiencing the spark of who he is. Chauncey shoves him back into the closet by telling him that the happiness he feels is wrong and destructive and he should be dead. I don't think it's a stretch to say that Stede hears that he's corrupted Ed by falling in love with him and by making Ed want him.

Then there is the scene between Ed and Izzy, when Ed has returned to the Revenge. I've seen some posts remarking on how the scenes leading up to this are the most vulnerable and the most openly queer Ed has been. (If anyone knows the posts I'm talking about, please let me know and I'll link them, because I cannot find them right now!) He's walking around in Stede's silk dressing gown, singing terrible but heartfelt songs, and crying in his blanket fort. He hasn't responded with violence; he even goes to Lucius to help him work through the pain he's feeling. Then Izzy confronts him, mocking him for being "a namby-pamby in a silk gown, pining for his boyfriend." Ed tries to defend himself, "I'm still Blackbeard," and Izzy shoves the monstrous image of Blackbeard into his face. Become like this again, he says, or "Edward better watch his step."

Ed cracks. All the feelings he had and didn't have the emotional or verbal language to express or process — never once does either he or Stede utter the word "love" in the beach scene. The closest he can come is "what makes Ed happy is you" — are not just wrong and unmasculine, but dangerous. Ed's sexuality is fine, but how he expresses it and the feelings attached to it are not. Men don't pine for their boyfriends. Men who do that are better off dead. So he kills Lucius, the closest representative of that kind of gentle, queer maleness that Stede brought out in Ed, and transforms himself into the external monster he's been constantly told he was.

Both Chauncey and Izzy present their violence as logical, rational thought - they've considered it and come to a conclusion. Ed and Stede, as they are, should not exist.

What’s tragic at the end of Season 1 is that Ed and Stede really are happy when they’re together. They both begin to discard the posturing of their personas and see the idiosyncrasies of the other as endearing and lovable. They play together and discover things about themselves they didn’t know existed. It's such a simple statement - they make each other happy. But that happiness can’t be allowed to exist in the world of Izzy and Chauncey, the repressed patriarchal world where men don't cry, don't feel, and definitely don't love each other. The big villain of OFMD isn't a single person but the violence of toxic masculinity and how it turns men into monsters.

#ofmd s2 #our flag means death #ofmd season 2 #ofmd meta #stede bonnet #ed teach #izzy hands #chauncey badminton #gif #tw: homophobia #this has definitely been remarked on before #but i had thoughts

126 notes · View notes

agentrouka-blog · 21 days

Note

I often see this sentiment that Ned should have told Cat the truth about Jon and it would have solved all their problems. I disagree with this? I don't think Ned was being an idiot for not telling Cat. I think there were a multitude of reasons of why he didn't tell her, and all of them held weight in his decision.

1) he didn't know or trust her when they got married

2) a secret stops being one if you tell even one person about it. He promised Lyanna he wouldn't tell anyone and that included everyone, except obviously the people already present at the tower (Howland and the wet nurse I presume)

3) there is a possibility that Cat's behavior towards Jon would have changed knowing he was not a result of Ned's affair, but her resentment towards him also provided a cover. If she treated him, say cordially, then it would have been very suspicious considering Ned was already fostering him at his own home.

4) after he came to know Cat, he would have realized that she was fiercely protective of her family, she wouldn't have thought twice before giving up Jon for her children if it came to that. A choice no sane person, including Ned, can fault her for. By not telling her, he removed that option for her, saved Jon and also saved her from the guilt that would have haunted her.

5) he was committing treason that would have endangered Cat and his children. In case it ever got out there was plausible deniability for his family that they didn't know and it might have saved them.

His actions hurt both Catelyn and Jon but it was a very complicated situation overall so I understand him too. I don't know what would have been the alternative because I don't think telling Catelyn would have solved anything. What is your opinion on this?

I don't think people generally claim it would have magically fixed "everything", but many also misunderstand how Ned is mishandling the situation. He isn't actually handling it well by himself, he isn't handling it the way he would have if Jon was actually his bastard. His inability to be "normal" about it and come up with a convincing lie created most of the avoidable problems we see, which is Catelyn's eternal insecurity about Ned's feelings for Jon (and his mother) which feeds her anxiety about her own children being usurped, plus Jon's complete trauma over knowing absolutely nothing about his mother. Both are left hanging for no logical reason from their POV, and that's an absolutely insane path for Ned to go down.

True, and then he chose to go the worst way about it and never fixed it later.

Howland knows. The Daynes know. Wylla probably knows. Benjen probably knows. Come on. And we don't know what she made him promise and it's more likely to be along the lines of protecting her son than specifically never telling anyone who could have helped him handle this better.

Catelyn being "nice" to Jon isn't even half of it. She could have advised Ned on how to handle the situation in a realistic way with the least harm done. Which is likely to foster Jon somewhere, make plans for his future instead of leaving him aimless, create a believable lie about his mother that doesn't shame him, have a harmoniously accepted situation instead of making his kids grow up with this unresolved conflict warping their emotional well-being.

What situation could realistically arise where Cat could "sell out" Jon to "save" her children that specifically depends on her knowing this and also wouldn't mean they are all already in deep trouble? It's nonsense. Also, Catelyn "Family Duty Honor" Tully would not fault Ned for wanting to save his sister's child. It's a perfectly decent choice on his part and a dilemma she could easily understand. Come on!

How is this (thin glaze) of plausible deniability not equally achieved by simply lying (and lying better than Ned can, especially)?

It's just that Ned left both Cat and Jon deeply anxious and traumatized, respectively, because his decision was to lie very badly and then refuse to answer all reasonable questions. It has repercussions for all of them. From Cat to Sansa to Jon to Robb.

Plus: Ned may have actually had an opportunity to heal from his horrific trauma if he had talked to literally anyone about it. He may have been less likely to cling to Robert as a vestige of his lost youth, blinding himself to the man's monstrous faults and sticking around to his own doom.

It would not have "fixed everything" but you can't convince me it wouldn't have fixed some things.

#eddard stark critical #jon snow #rlj #catelyn stark #trauma #rouka ask

46 notes · View notes

thevoidcannotbefilled · 3 months

Text

One of the main issues into trying to get into tma is the lack of balance between the statements and the characters. I adore this slow drip format don't get me wrong, but it led to the statement heavy nature of the episodes needing to take center stage and sometimes as a result being forgotten. It doesn't help that until season 5, all the formats were exactly the same, just a person saying their statement or a statement being read. This isn't to say this format isn't effective, I mean look at the popularity of the show, but you do have an awkward inability to progress plot without a long statement. Season 3 in particular made the statements and post statements feel incredibly separated on the assisant's side of things. Most of the time (with a few notable exceptions) you can change out the dialogue between characters post statement and the statements themselves in any particular order.

So far with the magnus protocol, that definitely is not the case. For one, the dialogue between the characters and the horror findings/statement (not sure what to call them) are incredibly integrated. It at once creates this tension, not knowing exactly when you'll hear the statement and also a sense of experiencing alongside everyone. There's also the formatting. Between three episodes we got an email, a reddit thread, and a therapist session. All of these seemingly fit into the same format, and most importantly, can be a variety of lengths depending on how they want to tell the story. Statements in TMA took up an entire episode and there were no more than one statement per. Now, while we most likely won't get more than one or two, there are options in not only how they're presented but also when and to what extent.

Season 4 of TMA was my favorite for a variety of reasons, but one of them is how they handled the statements. Statements usually paralleled what Jon was dealing with at the time be it loneliness, his own sense of humanity, or guilt. From what I see so far with TMagP, that sort of styling of statements is going to be the entire CORE of the show. The first episode seemed to have the main themes and while I'm unsure of what Daria's session has to 100% do with the cast, there seems to be crumbs of set up there that I'm excited to see later.

To also note, episode 1 is centered around meeting the cast and setting expectations, episode 2 mainly focuses on the statement with elements of the greater cast sprinkled around it. With the new format they can do that and bounce around as needed for whatever structure they're going for of the day. It's a bit more chaotic in that regard. You can't just put a statement on and then listen like for TMA, so you have to pay much closer attention, but I find this structure choice very interesting.

Overall? I'm very interested as to what The Magnus Protocol has in store for us. Just with this new structure, the doors are opened with very different story telling options and to have TMagP have its own identity outside of TMA.

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tma #tmagp analysis #the magnus protocol #the magnus protocol spoilers #long post #god I love analyzing the structure in tma/tmagp stuff #theres so much to chew on I missed this

87 notes · View notes

drdemonprince · 4 months

Note

hi, devon. i’m a very socially anxious white autistic person who has been quite active in protests and some related events and actions the last couple of months. i really agree with your opinions on how white supremacy can shift our focus away from community, but i find it nearly impossible to actively parttake in community. i show up with a mindset of actively contributing but feel paralyzed when faced with the chance. i don’t really know how to make social connections in general, but i so badly want to contribute to community. i think white guilt kinda plays into things as well and that makes me so ashamed and then i spiral. ik it’s a lot but do you have advice on navigating a deep urge and feeling of responsibility (as it pretty much is my responsibility as someone who wants to fight for liberation) but feeling paralyzed whenever a chance to connect actually presents itself? i always end up fumbling and unintentionally rejecting people who try to connect w me as well. i used to be very politically active as a teen but that was through organisations with a lot of structure which enabled me to feel more able. i do whatever actions i can, but being hindered by my inability to form connections makes me worried i won’t be able to end up in the communities that fight for liberation in the long haul. i’m ready to this this for the rest of my life, but not alone.

I understand this feeling so much. Please keep at it. One of the biggest problems with the white supremacy brain disease is that it expects us to do more & more quickly than is reasonable or helpful to expect of a person. So it is very likely you are beating yourself up for not speaking up, for not jumping in to offer help, and for not asserting yourself to the degree that you think that you "should," but in reality many of those efforts would be misplaced or self-defeating if you were to embark on them right now. This is a long journey, and white supremacy culture believes in urgency above all things too, and so it's important for you to give yourself some grace as well as to accept that progress for you will be a long haul, and that's okay.

Many people have told me that becoming even a neutral member of a community as a white person is an uphill battle. So many of our impulses and the social tools that we wield actively destroy community. to learn to become a good community member, we have to listen and learn a lot, and keep showing up, and risk looking foolish, inert, useless, or whatever else we worst fear. If you're not doing much right now but still showing up, you might be a neutral member! That's a good start actually. Keep going.

Also try to keep an open heart and an open mind when people of color or longstanding members of the space challenge you, correct you, playfully tease you, or try to include you, even if it feels embarassing or like an attack -- it isn't an attack, but white supremacy brain will have you thinking that it is. If you read my essay Moments of Protest, I describe a moment like this at the Powwow I recently visited. Indigenous men singled me out, brought me into the dances, included me, taught me the moves, and gave me an award even tho I was doing a miserably bad job -- I was MORTIFIED and the white fragile person inside me wanted to run away and apologize for being so inept and never come there again. Instead, I pushed past my stupid ego and kept dancing and felt incredible gratitude in my heart. This kinda thing happens in a lot of POC-led activist spaces too. People will ask you your opinion, tell you how to contribute, correct you, include you, and it will humble you, and it will be scary at first, but do your best to just stick with it and stay present doing the thing, even if you feel red-faced and guilty. Slowly you will get more used to it and you don't reflexively withdraw or push people away. It took me no joke YEARS to get to this point. I used to flee instinctively or even be mad at people for bursting my self protective bubble. You can work through it.

A lot of my usual distress tolerance building advice also applies here (see my substack for more). But I think that if you are already showing up to actions a lot and are self-aware about it, you are on the right track. You just need to keep going. Attend organizing meetings, not just protests themselves if you can. Contribute your opinion when it is warranted. Don't beat yourself up for being silent sometimes and don't beat yourself up for disagreeing with people or having questions and your opinions. Accept conflict as a healthy form of intimacy and dont run away when a moment gets awkward. Just keep learning and retraining yourself and noticing the love that people show -- by offering food, by making jokes, by acknowledging your presence to make you feel welcome, by allowing you to be there and helping you to be a better version of yourself. we all have a long way to go in this work, but you can do it. you're already doing it! you got this.

83 notes · View notes

hauntedhokage · 6 months

Text

Part 08: On the Mend

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SUMMARY: Bakugou struggles with the growing complexity of his kinda-friendship with you. You extend what is quite possibly an official olive branch.

[series masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi} | [spotify playlist]

“Does Kirishima know you have a crush on his girlfriend?”

Midoriya’s question rotates through his mind like a broken record. The rest of their conversation about planning early to stop Fight Night before it can start is gone, he can’t focus on anything other than the fact that the damn nerd figured him out in less than a minute of being in the same room. The answer was yes, so much so that Kirishima was actively pushing for him to make a move on the cute reporter so they could hopefully become a triangle or whatever.

He wouldn’t deny how nice it felt to be in his bed with her, both resting their heads on Kirishima’s shoulders since he was their connecting piece. It felt complete, even though everything already felt complete when it was just him and Kirishima - she just made it…more whole? How something whole became whole-ier he wasn’t sure but that’s what it was and it didn’t make sense.

He desperately wanted it to make sense.

Some kind of reasoning ability would help with the guilt he felt whenever he looked at her. The brand of hell he must’ve been putting her through with the uncertainty he made her feel about her relationship with Eijirou, plus thinking he hated her or only wanted to get to know her because of her boyfriend. He knew it was shitty, his own inability to act only hurting them all more than it was helping - and he never thought it would truly help but he didn’t know what to do. He barely had friends, and anything more than that felt impossible. It was a miracle Eijirou had decoded his grunts and groans and closer than normal proximity meant that he liked him, how the hell was he supposed to be able to verbalize that he liked her as more than just Eijirou’s girlfriend or just a friend of his own?

And now she was basically living there, despite them returning to regular hero duties and her return to work. There was always a meal waiting either hot on the stove or in the fridge ready to be microwaved. They hadn’t needed to go grocery shopping, since she was keeping their apartment stocked. The apartment was always clean, which was more of a joint effort between them since he always did what he could to help - mostly dusting where she couldn’t reach above the cabinets, the air vents, and the ceiling fan.

She did all of that for him, and a month ago she thought he hated her and didn’t want her around. He had to do something, and simply saying thank you wouldn’t be enough. It felt like an impossible task to turn things around, but maybe she was already taking the first step by just being present? Or was he reading too much into it? Did he need to just ask? How did he-

“What would you get her?” Katsuki asks aloud, abruptly halting his train of thought as he looks over at his red haired boyfriend as they walk. It’s a reminder that he wasn’t alone, but on his daytime patrol with Eijirou by his side. It wasn’t normal for them to patrol together, but after Fight Night it made sense to double up until the dust fully settled (and they both were fully healed). Time for them to be together at the very least.

“Get what for who and for why?”

“Your girlfriend has been keeping our home in good shape for us. How would you thank her?”

“I’d have some great sex all night but you can’t do that yet, so flowers would be okay. No, better, get her a potted plant.”

He’s choosing to ignore the “yet”, knowing that it wasn’t a conversation he really wanted to get into on a semi-crowded street. So instead he just rolls his eyes as he asks: “How is that better than flowers? Aren’t flowers pretty and girls like pretty things?”

“Yeah, but the plant is better for your pathetic situation.” Again, he’s choosing to ignore some of the words flying out of his boyfriend’s mouth for the sake of keeping his boyfriend alive for the duration of their patrol. “It’s something you’ll take care of for her, for starters, and two it’s something in our place that you got for her with the intent of keeping at our place. In a pot that’s her favorite color, and make it something big.”

“Why does it have to be big?”

“Symbolic of the fact that you don’t want her to go anywhere. A big ass plant? Not one of us is going to want to have to lug that thing out should you piss her off again.”

And he wouldn’t get something that he’d plan on looking at forever and reminding him of her should they break up. It was just smart enough that he was feeling confident about the fact that it would work. Did he want to buy a massive plant and haul it up to their apartment? Not at all, but he’d do it if it meant she’d warm up to him a bit more and know that she was appreciated for all that she’d done for them.

“Finally owning up to your big crush?”

“Fuck off. You’re helping me carry the fuckin’ thing.”

“But you have to pick it out on your own.”

“D’you think she’ll get food with me one day?”

“She sat next to you on the couch last night for an entire movie and didn’t say anything about it to me after. I think she’d get food with you, maybe more.”

“Stop with the ‘more’, damnit!”

“Not until you admit it, asshole!” That was her word, his boyfriend normally called him a dick or a bastard, but never an asshole. Did he know she’d rubbed off on him there?

“Does Kirishima know you have a crush on his girlfriend?”

Unfortunately so, and it was a wonder that the girlfriend didn’t know considering Kirishima couldn’t shut up about it.

“Are you okay with ordering in tonight? She says she doesn’t really feel like cooking.” The question brings him back to the moment, pushing Midoriya’s stupid voice out as he thought about it. They had the fish still, he could cook that and she could take a break for once and let them take care of her.

The response has Eijirou nodding, a stupid little knowing smirk on his face as he texts his girlfriend back. If they weren’t in public he’d kiss the stupid smirk off his face, but that would have to wait.

–

He was regretting the offer to cook when he realized you hovered in the kitchen. Initially it wasn’t so bad, you asked what he was cooking and got out the vegetables for him when he asked. He thought it would end there, and you’d go fuck around with Eijirou while he played a video game on the couch. Snuggle with your love bug or whatever they called it.

Instead you linger.

The offer to chop the vegetables is accepted, and he watches carefully as you work. Very careful with the knife but still fast, setting the bowl of chopped veggies near the stove before leaning against the counter with a glass of water in hand. Your gaze isn’t quite piercing, but it does make him feel translucent in the very least and he’s not sure why he hasn’t started squirming yet. Could it be that he liked the way you watched him? Was this truly comfort in your airspace, or was it something else?

“Can I help you?”

“His game is boring,” is all you said at first, meeting his gaze for only a moment before quickly looking away. “I can leave, though. If you’d rather-”

“You can stay.” He hates how quickly the offer is extended, but relaxes when you do and returns your nervous smile. All he needed to do was talk, just say something - anything - that could diffuse the nervous tension in the kitchen. Eijirou couldn’t bail them out of this, and Katsuki is sure he wouldn’t even if he was aware of what was happening in the kitchen. He got too much fun out of seeing them slightly uncomfortable together.

“So, how was patrol?”

“Patrol was good. Quiet. Everyone always seems to calm down more after Fight Night.”

“Yeah?”

“Things’ll pick up in a couple weeks, I’m sure. But low crime means easy days, and you get to report on other things, right? Like that new community center that’s opening?” You cared about stuff like that, and he’s proud of himself for remembering that when he sees your face light up a bit. Baby steps, or something like that.

“Yeah, I’ll be at the grand opening. Pulled some strings to get Red Riot there for the ribbon cutting. I hear the kids are stoked.”

“What’d that cost you?”

“Oh you know, push your tits in his face and he’s easy.”

“If we’re both using the same tactics, he’s going to catch on.” That got you to laugh, and he feels something warm in his chest at how good it feels that he’s the one making you laugh and not out of need to diffuse the tension. How relieving it is to know that he can make you laugh and that you did want to laugh with him and around him. He wasn’t a lost cause after all. “Can I get an invite to the grand opening?”

“‘Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight’ might not fit on the invite.”

“Would ‘Bakugou Katsuki’? I’m not trying to go for the clout of being there, I just want to be there for it, check it out, that kind of thing.” “You can be my plus one, since Red Riot got his own invite.” He nods at that, looking back down at the pan to try to hide the blush and blame the warmth in his cheeks on the heat radiating off the pan. “You can totally do your own thing, though. Doesn’t mean you have to hang out with me for the whole thing.”

He was going to be hanging out with you for as long as he reasonably could, and that was that. Opportunities like this didn’t happen all the time, he’d be an idiot to miss out on this.

#alp #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo imagine #kiribaku #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic

93 notes · View notes

awingedinsect · 1 month

Text

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 8

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: cursing, talks of injury, talks of homelessness, there’s a general 18+ content warning for this entire series and it does get a tiny bit interesting at the end here. Yearning Vessel gets his own warning.

“I got you a present.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

The little girl smiled, raking up a fistful of sand.

“It’s a surprise, silly.” She said. The breeze was blowing her hair, and Vessel smiled as she pulled it out of her sweet little eyes. “For your birthday.”

He remembers the smell of the ocean, the sound of the grey waves crashing on the shore. He remembers sitting there for hours with her, watching the tide come in as the sun made its journey behind the clouds.

He chuckled. “Aw heck, you didn’t have to do that.” There was a big smile creeping up on his face. “…Do I get a hint?”

“Well, mom paid for it, but I picked it out.” She said, yanking up a few pieces of grass poking through the grout. “and no.” She made a zipper across her mouth, beaming up at him with specks of sand scattered on her pink cheeks. “My lips are sealed!”

“Hey, Vessel.”

Vessel looks up from the pan he’s scrubbing, turning on the faucet to rid it of the suds. The water soaks into the cuffs of his hoodie.

“Hm?”

IV stands beside him casually, shrugging the leather jacket he performed in over his good shoulder.

“I’m heading into town. Anything I can get for you?”

Vessel sets the pan down on the drying rack, hands spidering a little desperately over the pile of dirty dishes in search of his next target. “Oh, no thanks,” he says, blinking at the guitarist’s reflection in the window then immediately looking down when his is in the pane too. He still looks tired, eyes bloodshot and hollow. Almost like he’d been nearly sacrificed and since possessed by an anonymous deity.

“You uh, driving?” He asks, glancing over at the man’s broken arm. An unprecedented wave of guilt comes over him, and he swipes his nose on his shoulder with a sniff. The sunlight is pouring in through the dusty window and it makes eye contact feel doubly impossible. But IV just shrugs, stuffing his hand in his jean pocket and shuffling a ring of keys.

“Aye, I’m the only one up here with a license. But I don’t mind, going to the grocery is pretty much a special interest at this point. You sure I can’t get you anything? Swing by your house for some clothes?”

It amuses Vessel that there’s an unspoken understanding that he’s staying. It would be sweet, if there wasn’t also the underlying idea that he doesn’t actually have a choice. But then again, he doesn’t have anywhere else that he should be, much less a house. He wonders if they can tell. If the inability to pay another night's rent at that damn motel is as plain as the bandage on his face. God, he wants his keyboard.

Out of anything in the world, he’d take those keys under his fingers.

“I’m fine, honestly. I can take a cab to the motel lat-“

“You’re staying in a motel?”

A horrendous blush creeps up his neck, and he dumps a plate on the rack hard enough to make him wince. “I’m… temporarily a bit displaced?”

There’s not a whole lot to read on IV’s face. He just absorbs information, then says some contemplated thing in return. But out of pity or surprise, there’s something closer to concern in his eyes.

“…You got a job, mate?”

There’s a silence longer than III’s fucking legs, and maybe twice as insufferable as the man himself. Even now Vessel can hear him in the next room, quietly muttering over his collection of herbs and spell-making equipment in an attempt to guard against whatever “bullshit the cat dragged in.” II is watching the tv, sipping a soda and giggling at whatever's on the discovery channel.

Vessel’s big eyes finally gather the strength to look up in the window, mouth twitching as he meets IV’s own.

“…I sing.”

And that’s what he does.

That’s how that day passes, and the next, and the next… at first, he’s nervous. Just settles on the edge of the couch to watch the three of them take positions, falling into the flow of practice as easy as a stream into the sea. II looks about as at home behind his drum set as a tree in the woods. Vessel has never seen so much cohesion between a person and their instrument, and it fills his gut with an almost jealousy, seeing something so flawless performed with such ease.

IV forgoes his guitar, obviously. But he still brings a lot to the performance by presence and a few vocals alone. II wasn’t kidding when he said the man could scream. The sound scratches Vessel's ears so gorgeously, he could legitimately start crying.

And then there’s III.

He stands front and center, that same flowery jacket on his shoulders. He looks concentrated. In tune. And yet there’s an ease that rolls off of him so fabulously it can’t help but feel like a subtle challenge.

Vessel watches his fingers move over the strings, rings glinting in the grey-ish light of the foggy forest.

And he feels… something.

He watches them play for an hour before II begs him to join. There’s something in those blue eyes that is undeniable, no matter how out of place he feels. And soon there is a mic stand in front of him, adjusted about three levels higher than he found it.

“Bring Me to Life.” III mutters. And without a piano, the first sounds are nothing but a few chords plucked by his nimble fingers.

The challenge is no longer subtle.

Vessel rocks on his heels, fingers splaying delicately down the side of the mic stand before gripping it low and still for his mouth to caress.

“How can you see into my eyes…”

A very quiet “oh hooo” of impending excitement comes from somewhere behind the drum set, and Vessel smiles.

“…like open doors?”

IV’s screams of “I can’t wake up” ring in all of their ears for several days, so intense it’d be funny if not so impressive. They played for hours that day, only pausing to brew a few cups of III’s jasmine rose tea. II was right; it tasted like ass. And yet in that room, sweaty from pouring his soul into a mic and surrounded by those three, passionate freaks of the industry, he realized he was almost happy. His smile, for the first time in years, wasn’t something he willed onto his face. And if he could hang on forever to the feeling of discovering a smile instead of creating it he would.

II tells him goodnight without any prompting. Just smiles at him, and says it as easy as breathing, before heading off into one of three doors lining the hallway.

IV likes him too. He gets a few changes of clothes and a brand new toothbrush from him, and even shares an intelligent conversation about guitars once Vessel mentions that he likes to play, too. Most of his feeling is in his eyes, he’s realized. They have a way of sparkling and harboring what might be big smiles in another case when he’s intrigued or at peace. The only person who gets him to really smile, is II; When the drummer is curled up in a tiny ball on the couch with his cup of “tea” or going absolutely manic on the drums, closing his eyes and getting carried off in the rhythm.

Even III smiles then.

But not once has he ever smiled at Vessel.

Vessel goes to sleep one night, thinking about it.

What would it feel like to have III’s approval? It’s clear at this point that he’ll never make the guy happy. He resents him too much for that. And yet, he did save his life. Shouldn’t that be good enough?

Vessel doesn’t like him very much, he’s decided. Especially when after belting his heart out at the man’s command he doesn’t even get a “well done”, or a “thank you” when Vessel made a mug of that nasty fucking tea and brought it to him after practice. He just nods his head and half-way looks at him; because at the end of the day, Vessel isn’t worth his attention.

And it makes his face red as a beet.

The moon is pouring in through the window. It’s been a week since it was full, and lighting up the forest outside with him in it. The cuts on his belly seem to be healing well, and he’s planning to take the bandage off his head tomorrow and see what the hell that’s all about.

Why won’t III approve of him?

He turns over on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

“You really are amazing.” II’s voice echoes in his head from earlier in the day, when he was cutting up some apples in the kitchen. “We’re all lucky bastards to have a singer like you messing around with us. Talk to III, we’ve got a gig coming up next week and I don’t know if we’d be half as good without ya!”

His eyes flutter as the darkness becomes staticy, rimmed on the left by faint moonlight and quiet as a grave with the whole house asleep. He thinks about II’s words. Is he in a band? If not, what’s he been doing up here all this time?

He’s not sure he can look at another crowd. Another waiting, patient collection of faces staring at his own until he does something impressive. Until the night goes on and terrible things have a chance to happen.

He shudders hard and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Can he sing for people?

For me.

A voice speaks somewhere between his mind and his eyelids.

Sing for me.

“I can scream loud enough, for you.” His mouth wraps around the words, muttering them softly with hardly a sound. His tongue darts out on his lip.

He really does love singing with bass.

His hand slips under his hoodie, spreading delicately over the bandages decorating him. His fingers are cold against his hot skin, searing between the pieces of himself and what III taped to him. It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.

His fingers travel down, grazing softly over the faintest of trails till they touch the band of III’s sweatpants.

God, he’s annoyed. He’s a good singer. Why isn’t he good enough for everyone? Why doesn’t that prick of a bassist say thank you when he makes him tea?

“I can scream loud enough...”

His fingertips push past the elastic, the slightest of tremors in his big hands for no reason he feels like guessing. He didn’t realize until right now how aroused he is by nothing in particular. It’s simply been too long, he thinks. Too long since he created release for all the sounds in his mind.

“…for you.”

For me.

“…Yes.”

After only a few minutes his eyes shoot wide open, full of pleading and hate as he cups a hand over his mouth and bites down hard enough to muffle a scream.

#vessel #vessel sleep token #sleep token art #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token iii

22 notes · View notes